Eryx's Prologue

“Ooo!” A young man intercepted Eryx with a spring in his step, “Do you get to fly that thing today Eryx??”

“No, not today. I’m here for pre-flight diagnostics. I’ll be flying it early next week, assuming nothing goes wrong.”

“Niice. Say, did you tune into the announcements on the project?”

“I did not.”

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t boring to listen to; those reports always are- but that speech at the end was worth it!”

...

The monitor in front of the hangar manager became alight with activity; the bland command window began to display an increasingly long string of commands, far too quick to catch up with all of their meanings.
“....What the hell are you doing, Rae?” but the message didn’t go through. An alert notified him that direct communication to Eryx’s ship was down.
“Rae? Rae-?!”
Then, a loud electrical pop; the hangar went dark, someone let out a startled scream, and amid the ensuing momentary silence the distinct scattering of sparks could be heard.
From the observation level, the manager could spot lights as people used whatever was on their person to be able to see; the early morning sun did little to illuminate the building through the skylights.
The staff began to utter confused murmurs and calls to others.
“What just happened??”
“Someone call the director, I’m getting a manager!”
Scanning the hangar revealed that Eryx’s ship was nowhere to be found...

...

‘If I’ve done anything good in this universe, please, show me! Let me know! Turn on! Turn on, please!!’ The command prompt unfroze. His action went through. A surge of energy swept through the spacecraft; countless warnings triggered and danced within his mind, drowning out the flashing lights and alarms and the steady stream of information.

Then, the momentum hit; a sickening crack and horrible pain in his chest yanked him out of the deafening cesspool of code and thought; he had slammed directly into the instrument panel, and with the unorthodox angle at which he ‘landed’, he now had to use it as leverage to maneuver his feet beneath him. The steady trickle of blood from the laceration on his forehead threatened to obscure his vision in one eye, and a single line of broken code repeated in his mind, over and over, in perfect sync with a throbbing headache. It was dizzying; nauseating, and with its meaning buried deep under the perceived crackle of loose threads of information, it was also worthless.

But Eryx had nary a moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes began to sting and his chest tightened; smoke. Fire. He had to get out of here. He used the back of one hand to wipe away the blood from above his eye but kept the other on the console, fearing that without its stability he might topple over. Carefully, he sidestepped towards the nearest wall, but already even small movements proved difficult. He gripped his side with his free hand. This was a feeling he recognized; a broken rib or two, if he were to guess, and his leg wasn’t broken, but something was definitely wrong.

He stumbled into the far wall, using it to steady himself as he uttered a cough that only made his chest ache worse. ‘Just have to get out of here… but the angle… how high up… can’t think like this… spotty connection…’

He placed his hand flat against the wall and, with a grimace, forced a command to go through despite the haze of artificial thought. That hurt. It hurt to think a thought.
A black rectangle appeared on the wall of the ship, next to his hand. Weakly, he moved his hand to it and tapped a center button, from which projected a small holographic menu prompt. It wasn’t easy to read through tears, smoke, and blood, but he simply couldn't do everything through mental commands...
‘Portals set… Confirmed.’

He chuckled weakly before erupting into another coughing fit, doubling over against the wall. He just barely kept himself steady by leaning against it with his forearm. ‘One more thought, just one more command, then you’re out…’ In front of him, an elliptical portal, lined in a fluttering copper hue, opened up. Now lacking the support of the wall, he fell through. 

A few feet away from the hull of the ship, well above the ground, he stumbled through and landed on a floating silver disk that had materialized beneath him just in time.
As he moved to better support himself the platform fizzled out of existence and dumped him onto the cold ground below. Still coughing, he reached up and slipped off his headset; the horrid noise of broken information finally ceased. Blood dripped from his face and onto the ground, staining the turned soil, and a pleasant breeze kept the rising smoke at bay.

Again, he chuckled weakly, and, putting great care into his every movement, propped himself onto his hands and knees, and then steadily onto his feet. One hand remained tight around his side, and he dared not apply too much pressure to his left leg.

Looking out towards the forest that surrounded the peasant meadow provided him no comfort.
“Sir please put your hands up.” It was gibberish. Calm, stern…. These people… some bearing insectoid wings of... Light? On an unknown world… In the future…? A wave of dread permeated his mind, every fear and possibility running through his scattered thoughts, skipping details and logic and culminating in a silent panic.

Most were dressed in uniform. Some armored. Some armed; none with their rather imposing guns aimed at him. They kept repeating lines of gibberish, each attempt different than the last, but all incomprehensible. One took a step forward as his wings, [like a butterfly’s], colored blood red, appeared behind him and carried him off the ground. A second person followed him.

Primal terror silenced all else within the pilot’s mind as a new surge of adrenaline pumped through him and an instinct as old as life itself took over. It was either time to fight or to flee. Without even realizing his own actions, he gave a mental command resulting in a harsh tinge of pain to add to his current headache and materialized a small silver pistol into his free hand. Gripping it in time with its appearance, he raised it in defense at the winged stranger before he even comprehended that he had already pulled the trigger.

A bolt of green energy fired from the gun, hitting the second enforcer right in the chest. She had no time to process the extraneous effects of the weapon as she collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.
Within seconds another pixie slammed into Eryx, tackling him to the ground and hitting him in the leg with something. Electricity shot through him, the voltage more than high enough to kill most of the weapon’s usual targets. He yelled out in pain, but despite the odds, was still just barely conscious, pinned under the pixie enforcer and unable to muster the strength to push her off, or even force himself to try.

“That’s enough.” Mora, likely the smallest one present, announced with a stern tone. Hesitation spread through a few of the enforcers, but none would question a seer’s authority in such a scenario. With perhaps a false sense of confidence, the girl approached the downed pilot. The enforcer that had him pinned stood, rail gun trained on him.

Eryx moved to try and prop himself up, just a little, but instead slipped back into the dirt. Above him loomed Mora, who asked the nearby enforcer in an eerily sweet tone, “Stand him up for me?” The enforcer, after a moment of consideration, stepped behind Eryx and lifted him off of his feet. The pilot winced, settling his feet beneath him, but it did little to help the pain in his side.
Mora stood directly in front of Eryx, “You can’t understand me, but…”
Wings of light materialized behind her, glowing with increasing intensity as they swelled in size, “You cost me a fortune!!” She smacked her hand across his face with enough force that the enforcer had to hastily adjust her footing as to not be knocked around herself. The pilot went limp; a reddened hand print emitting a faint purple glow remained on his cheek.