CHAPTER SIX
The screech of the workshop door jolted Soran from his slumber. He cursed himself in a hushed insult, furious at himself for drifting off. The tranquil night lighting lulled the station residents to sleep, bathing everything in an azure hue. Soran found it creepy. The shadows that stalked through the oceanic glow had scared him as a child and still did a little to this day. It didn't take him long to recognize the muffled sound of people entering the workshop. He shimmied down into the foot well of the Bluebird and picked up on what sounded like conversation. They were looking for something. No, someone. Although unable to determine precisely what they were discussing, he discerned from their bickering that they were in a hurry. Soran winced at the crash of fallen tools. Benches toppled as their search intensified, leaving a trail of destruction behind them. The intruders were trashing the place, destroying Lanic's sanctuary and what was to be Soran's inheritance. He'd had enough. He grabbed Lanic's wrench and jumped out of the cockpit, his boots thudding onto the paneled floor. Three shadowy figures spun round to face him. The room was too dark to make out their faces, their features obscured by gloom. He could only detect their silhouettes, back-lit by the reposeful glow behind them.
A tall man stood in the center. The bright cigar embers illuminated a coarse beard covering his prominent chin. The shadow of his heavy brow buried his eyes in night. To his right stood a female. With a body sculpted of pleasing curves, her opalescent skin shimmered in the light like the surface of a moonlit pool. Eluding the veil of shadow were two large orbs peering out at him. A wink caught him off guard, and a heat pulse raced down his spine. Concealing her slender frame were billowing overalls not dissimilar to his own. Soran's eyes were snatched to the corner of the room, where he met with an altogether different form. A colossal creature that hulked over the couple's shoulders, a gurgled purr whistling from its throat. Plunged into its bulbous head were a pair of solid white eyes so bright they pierced through the darkness. The creature blinked, and a second set of eyes appeared to the side of the first. Soran had to tighten his grip to avoid dropping the wrench in fear.
"Soran Valek?" Asked the smoked-wreathed intruder in a gravelly tone. It felt uncomfortable hearing his name uttered from the mouth of a stranger.
"How do you know my name?" Soran asked, failing to extinguish the fear from his voice.
"He doesn't look like much, but it's him. Grab him, Tugg." said the smoking man as he departed from the workshop.
The giant creature staggered towards Soran, who was experiencing a new height in his capacity for terror. Without so much as a warning, a rugged tangle of netting was thrust over his head, immediately constricting him. The brutish monster hoisted the boy onto its back, and a struggle ensued, its grip tightening to counter his pitiful writhing. Soran tried to yell and scream for help, hoping someone would listen. It didn't take him long to remember that Lanic had chosen this place for a reason. Not to be bothered.
A peculiar smell began to emanate from the netting. Lean plumes of gas crept from the wires, wafting their way over his skin and into his gaping mouth. Soran gasped for air under the iron grasp of his captor but found himself falling in and out of consciousness. His indifferent abductor hauled him from the workshop, traipsing behind his accomplices to the blurred outline of a ship. It blazed with shades of autumn. Brilliant hues of red and yellow mingled into a perfect sunset of color. The boy's eyelids flickered, defiant against the gasses' call to slumber. Through fluttering eyelashes, he made out the vague shape of something painted onto the ship's hull. A sickled horseshoe crowned with eight points hovered over distinct lettering. Weathered by years of space travel and -- judging from the bullet holes that littered the metallic carapace -- more than her fair share of firefights. Through the frayed paint and less-than-professional artistry, Soran derived a solitary word: Horizon. His body fell limp, the fumes overpowering him into a blissful coma.
Boarding their ship, Soran’s captors made their preparations to depart the Hyacinth. After several minutes of bickering, the engines fired up with a satisfying purr, and sapphire flames poured from the exhaust vents. Plated wings descended from the vessel's apex, splitting into eight separate blades that surrounded the ship like a divine halo. She floated through the abandoned tunnels with aged grace until finally drifting free of the station's artificial atmosphere. With their mission complete and the unconscious apprentice in their possession, they accelerated to pulse into the endless void of deep space.
