Shadows from Above

This world was dying. The signs were obvious to anyone who knew where to look. Of course the inhabitants of this doomed world did not, and that is what made it all the more tragic. He looked around the spaceport, watching as the sleek silver craft taxied around each other in a delicate slow ballet. It saddened him, as always, when a world fell.
A twinge of guilt rippled through him as he packed his meager belongings into the cargo hold of the rented spacecraft. He hated to run like this, leaving the rest of this world oblivious to the impending disaster. He swallowed. He had tried. This and every time before. His hand drifted unconsciously to the small green stone hanging on a chain around his neck. A moment of contact brought the Vision back for a brief instant. A swirling circular pattern of movement spun momentarily in front of his eyes. It was the same, of course as always. And it made him slightly sick, as always. He closed his eyes tightly and tucked the Stone beneath his shirt. The old man had told him this was a clue, although what it actually meant had baffled him continuously since the two had parted ways. The other clues he had collected mostly on his own, such as the hint that had led him to this planet. Most importantly, he knew that the Object was here, somewhere on this world. It was finally within reach, and for once, he dared to hope that They could be stopped. That of course, was why They were coming, and why he had to leave. He tossed the final bag into the hold, sealing the door with a touch of the keypad.
“There is nothing else I can do.” He muttered to himself.
“So you are definitely leaving.” A woman’s voice spoke behind him. He spun around, consciously restraining his hand from the weapon hidden inside his jacket. She raised an amused eyebrow. “Surprised to see me?” She asked, half jokingly. He paused, looking at her, the one reason he had stayed long after good sense had told him to pack his things and leave. Sure, he had originally come here for the Object, but It could just as easily be on a dozen or so other worlds, depending on how one interpreted the evidence. No, there was no use to pretend that he had stayed out of a sense of duty. It was her, plain and simple.
“You can still some with me.” He replied flatly. They both knew her answer, having had this same conversation in one form or another at least a dozen times over the last month. Still, one must observe form.
“I am not going to leave my home, my family, my job and my life, just because you have a fear of commitment.” She answered. The fear of commitment part was new. At least she kept it interesting.
“I explained…” He began.
“Yeah, sure.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand. She was right. His explanation had made no sense and to ask her to come along under such pretext was ludicrous at best. The truth though, she would find even harder to swallow.
“Yeah.” He agreed in a half whisper. The sky darkened suddenly, the sunlight rippling as a large vessel emerged from a fold just overhead. His heart sank. It was too late.
“That was close.” She said, looking skyward, and shielding her eyes with her hand. “What kind of moron does a star jump this close to a planet? Why not use a gate like everybody else? They could have killed…” She trailed off, looking up with a stunned expression as the answer became obvious. He turned his gaze upward to confirm his fear. The vessel that hung just above the spaceport was unmistakable. They had arrived.
“It’s too big for a gate.” He stated, although to anyone with eyes, this was apparent.
“Well, I hope they don’t plan to land here,” she said, turning away from the enormous craft. “There isn’t a big enough pad anywhere on this planet.”
“They won’t land.” He said to himself. He had to leave now. This instant. If the Object had been on this planet, it was out of reach now. If only he had some idea of what the Object actually was, maybe things could have ended differently. Too late now. He had to concentrate on keeping the Stone safe at this point. He looked back at her, savoring the way the setting sun shone through her hair, giving it the appearance of halo of fire. “Last chance.” He said. She shook her head. He dropped his gaze, looking away. So that’s it then, he thought. He climbed into the rental craft he was never going to have to pay for without saying anything more. She retreated to a safe distance, watching him punch in his exit path into the ship’s automatic pilot. His hand paused of its own accord, hanging motionless over the switch that would engage the hover systems and begin the automated taxi and launch sequence. He stole one last glance through the window.
She stood just past the yellow line painted on the tarmac indicating the minimum safe distance, pretending to rub a speck of dust out of her eye. The shadow of Their vessel crept closer, slowly engulfing the entire spaceport as it descended. He commanded his finger to press the button and propel him to safety. It stubbornly refused. He supposed he could have taken her with him by force, saving her life for at least a little while. She of course would never have understood; at best resenting him bitterly, and at worst having him arrested. The demise of this planet would not be complete for years yet, and if he forced her, she would still leave him to return home long before anyone knew what was happening. You can’t force salvation on people. He had learned that the hard way. He admitted to himself that he was being a touch dramatic. They would usually only kill heads of state, military and any others who resisted their rule, and resistance for the most part only lasted a short time. She would probably survive.
With a sigh he pressed the button. The vessel lifted off of the ground slowly, tottering on a bubble of magnetism. He was not sure exactly how the Bryson Magnetic Drive worked, but the marvel of man’s blatant defiance of gravity paled in comparison to the beauty he was leaving behind. The shadow from above closed in, falling over her shrinking figure as his vessel pivoted toward his exit vector. He looked down at her to try to preserve one last glimpse, something to remember her by, and his heart froze. The dust swirled around her feet in the exact pattern he had seen through the Stone so may times before. How many hundreds of times did he make himself sick, clutching the Stone, staring at the Vision, striving in vain to pierce its secrets? There could be no mistake. She stood in the exact center of the pattern, looking up at him, oblivious to the epiphany he was suffering at that moment. She was the Object. How could he have been so blind? He had felt a magnetic attraction to her from the moment they met. It made so much sense now, why did he not see before?
Cursing, he strove desperately to punch in the manual override codes before it was too late. The spaceport, the neighboring ocean, the world itself, all fell away in an instant, and he was weightless. For a moment the stars rotated gently as his vessel repositioned itself for the next leg. He lurched forward again, the fold gate looming out of the stars ahead as the planet receded away, turning into nothing more than a charming blue sphere. His fingers fluttered over the keys. He had to stop this, to go back. His stomach twisted with the unforgettable disorientation of space fold travel. His vessel spun slowly again, automatically maneuvering itself out of the way of incoming traffic. He pressed the final button of the sequence, superfluously ending the automated flight path.
His fingers raced again, this time to punch in a return path. They would begin monitoring the gate soon and he could not afford discovery. Anonymity was his only weapon. He hesitated. If he were captured, everything he and the others for so long had fought and bled for would be lost. He was the last one living, the last hope that They could ever be stopped, and if he delivered himself into Their hands all would be lost. He was equally certain that the Object was necessary for victory. This had been clear from day one. Which meant They could not have her. He pressed the ignition key with a vehement stab of his finger. This had to end, one way or another.