Chapter 17: Extraction

The hum of Krell vehicles echoed through the rusty metal building. Avila knelt down on the cracked concrete floor, eyes on the broken doorframe ahead. Her rifle felt warm against her palms. Two rounds left in the mag. She hadn’t reloaded because she hadn’t had time. That was how things were going. They had to make it past the last hangar on the other side of the airport to where the Eclipse was hidden behind.

“How many?” Anya asked. She crouched beside Avila, one boot braced on the frame of the shattered window. Her tone was too casual for the situation, which meant she was probably doing the math and not liking it.

Avila peeked out, ducked back. “At least seven Krell and three vehicles.”

Behind them, Pavlina was still trying to calm Veronika, who had stopped hyperventilating and started sobbing quietly into her hands. Marketa sat against the far wall, face pale, lip split, a pistol in her lap she probably didn’t know how to use. This situation was far from her usual realm; she thrived in academics and sports, not in battling interstellar warriors.

“We can’t hold this place,” Avila said.

“Nope. But I have a plan that ends in either victory or a blaze of glory” Anya said a little too enthusiastically.

Avila turned her head slowly. “Those are the only options?”

“Well, we could sit here and cry. But that one’s already taken.”

They shared a brief, humorless smile. Anya stood, checked her sword, then her knife. Her weapons were extensions of her fingers; she touched them like she might forget where they were. She opened the trunk of the sedan and pulled out a few new weapons.

“You take the SUV and get them to the Eclipse,” Anya said. The words came with her usual casualness as if she was reading off a grocery list. “I’ll take the sedan and make noise. Pull them west.” Her eyes shifted to Veronika and the others huddled against the SUV. “I can buy you five, maybe ten minutes.”

“No.” The urgency in Avila’s voice was sharp, but Anya didn’t flinch.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Avila felt something cold settle in her stomach. It wasn’t fear. Not yet. It was darker, something like inevitability.

“You won’t make it.”

Anya shrugged, still nonchalant. “You said seven warriors and three vehicles. I’ve faced worse.”

“You won’t have backup.” Avila’s eyes narrowed. She was always the one giving orders, the one in control. Anya’s defiance shook that control, exposed something she was not used to feeling.

“I don’t need it,” Anya said, tone unyielding. “Now go before I change my mind and do something suicidal.”

Avila stared at her, weighing the odds, calculating the cost. Then she moved.

Their footsteps echoed through the metal building as they made their way to their vehicles. The old Bangkok airfield that had died quietly, was about to gather a few more bones.

Aeden remained seated in the Eclipse at the far end of the airfield, wrestling with his urge to intervene. He knew Avila’s instructions were clear: he was not to touch anything, lest he reveal their presence or, even worse, become the primary target of the Krell attack. Losing the Eclipse would mean certain doom. Yet, the thought of sitting idle gnawed at him. Avila also insisted he stay off the communicator for the same reason. Aeden felt torn between the pressing need to act and the strict orders to remain invisible, each option weighing heavily on his conscience.

Avila helped Pavlina into the passenger seat of the SUV. Her movements were quick, urgent, but lacked their usual precision. The situation was too dire for anything other than speed. Marketa and Veronika stumbled into the back, both pale, both shaky. Avila hung back a second longer, eyes locked on the dilapidated building. She hated leaving Anya like this—alone, reckless. Sacrificial. Was it courage or foolishness that drove Anya to take such a risk? It didn’t matter. Avila knew she had no choice now. She bit her lip, slammed the door, and shifted into gear.

Anya was already sliding into the driver’s seat of the sedan. The engine growled to life, a menacing sound that made Avila’s stomach churn. The low throb of doom. Anya caught Avila’s eye and nodded, a single, unmistakable gesture. Then the sedan rocketed away, tires screaming on the broken pavement, leaving a cloud of dust and uncertainty in its wake.

The Krell responded in seconds. Avila should have known they would. Sensors and instincts were razor-sharp, too sharp. She saw two SUVs break formation, engines roaring as they went after Anya at top speed. But one vehicle stayed fixed on them, unwavering. Ruthless pursuit.

That one worried her the most.

She slammed the gas, the SUV leaping forward. They barreled down the ruined runway, tires screeching over loose gravel. The hangar was clear across the airstrip, a daunting four hundred meters. Too far and with nowhere to hide. Deceptively easy. Avila gripped the wheel tight, feeling the tension in her bones.

She could see the sedan dancing across the field, a wild, defiant blur. Anya swerved left, then right, reckless maneuvers that set the Krell drivers on edge. She was baiting them, and it was working. The Krell were ruthless but not irrational. They wouldn’t ignore a threat like that. Avila watched as the vehicles gained, guns opening fire. The shocking flash of an explosion lit up the scene.

Avila didn’t flinch. That would slow Anya but not stop her. Not yet. She took a breath, counted off two tense seconds, and jerked the wheel left while slamming on the brakes. The sudden motion pulled the SUV onto the remains of an old taxiway, allowing her to return to her high speed. It was a risky move, but calculated. Avila’s mind raced, caught between the need to escape and the ever-present threat of capture. She had seen something ahead. A tangle of debris. A trap? She was sure of it and had no intention of springing it.

Behind them, the Krell that stayed seemed confused at first, hesitating on its course. Avila felt a flicker of hope, a glimmer that maybe they would break and follow the others. But the Krell were not stupid. Not this one. The SUV swerved to stay on them, correcting its path. She kept her foot down, pushing their vehicle to its limit. Close. They were so close.

The hangar was there, looming larger with each passing moment—a massive skeletal structure, its rusted beams towering against the horizon. Avila could almost hear the Eclipse humming; could almost feel its power, its promise of safety. They just had to get there in time. Her jaw clenched as she calculated their odds again. The Krell stayed right behind them; she could see it gaining, relentless and unforgiving. She felt cold again, the same sense of certainty that had settled in her gut when she left Anya back in the building.

“Aeden, you copy?” she barked into the mic. Pavlina’s head turned suddenly, “You had a radio all this time?”

Avila kept her eyes on the dark tarmac ahead, “We couldn’t risk discovery. Now they’ll know it’s here so we better make sure we get there first.”

The static was bad. Then a shaky voice: “I hear you, everyone OK? What can I do?”

“Just keep the ramp down and turn the lights on once you see us.”

The Krell SUV was closing fast, edging up beside them like a shark on its prey. This close, Avila could see the armored plating gleam under the moonlight, could hear the engine’s guttural growl over everything else. She didn’t brake. Didn’t hesitate. With a swift, violent motion, she yanked the wheel to the right, crunching metal against metal as she sideswiped the Krell vehicle. The impact sent a shudder through their SUV, and Avila fought to maintain control. It worked. The Krell swerved, lost speed. She hoped to disable it, maybe damage a wheel. It was a slim chance, but enough to count. Their own SUV fishtailed, its back end swinging dangerously wide. Avila’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. Gritting her teeth, she skillfully coaxed it back onto a straight line.

Two hundred meters left. One fifty.

A second Krell SUV roared into view. It cut across the grass, on a collision course. Avila’s heart raced. She slammed the accelerator to the floor, speed was all they had left.

“Hold on!” she shouted.

The vehicle lurched forward, engine screaming in protest. Veronika’s fingers dug into the seat, knuckles white. Marketa whispered something that might have been a prayer. The hangar loomed ahead, tantalizingly close but not close enough.

One hundred meters away.

The Krell SUV slammed into the back quarter panel causing the rear of Avila’s SUV to lose traction and veer off to the left. They were only one hundred meters from the hangar, painfully close to their goal. Avila managed to correct, but only barely—she knew if they tried to keep their speed up, the vehicle would roll. She cursed under her breath, knowing it was their best shot. The Krell wouldn’t give up until they were caught or dead. “Brace yourselves,” Avila yelled. She hit the brakes, steering the SUV as gently as she could to a stop.

It was still violent. Their vehicle spun out, losing traction and kicking up a storm of dirt and gravel. The sudden halt threw Veronika and Marketa forward against their seatbelts. Pavlina clutched the door to steady herself, her breath catching in her throat. Avila fought to keep control, knuckles white, as the SUV skidded the last few meters, barely avoiding a complete rollover. The screech of rubber on pavement echoed around them until they finally jerked to a halt, stalled out in the open.