The Getaway

The heat in the garden was suffocating. The toxins were settling in their lungs.

Frankie grabbed Red’s hand. His palm was slick.

-Target acquired, he rasped. Twelve o'clock. The Corporation Cruiser.

He pointed at the house. The sliding glass door reflected the moonlight like a shield generator. Inside, a faint glow from the ship's bridge.

Red wiped a strand of damp hair from her forehead. She looked at the door, then back at him.

-That’s a heavy-class destroyer, Frankie, she said. Encryption on the airlock will be military grade.

-Then we better start hacking.

They sprinted across the patio. The concrete was the landing pad. Frankie threw himself against the glass door, checking the seal. Locked.

-Damn, he cursed. Security protocols are active.

Red slid up beside him. She pressed her face to the glass.

-Let me try, she said.

She traced the frame of the door and then fiddled with the latch as if tickling it before just clicking it open.

-Override complete, she smirked.

-Woosh, Frankie said as he shook his head and slid the door open.

The rush of conditioned air hit them instantly.

-Atmosphere stable, Frankie announced. -Life support operational.

He pulled her inside. They stumbled over the threshold, the door sliding shut behind them.

Frankie leaned back against the glass, locking it.

-We’re in, he exhaled.

Red stood in the center of the room. She spun around slowly, taking in the space.

-Nice ride, she purred. These aliens certainly know how to travel in style.

She kicked off her boots, leaving them by the airlock.

-Set a course, she ordered, walking toward the couch. Get us out of orbit before they realize their ship is missing.

Frankie moved to the wall switch. He dimmed the lights further.

-Course laid in, he said. Next stop: Deep Space.