Chapter Five: Into the Weightless Storm
The stars above no longer looked like distant lights they now felt like silent eyes, watching the ship crawl across the dark void like a wounded beast. Smoke still bled from the damaged wing, and the metal hull groaned like it was mourning something deep.
Coain stood near the core console, his jumpsuit soaked with sweat, tools clipped tightly to his belt. Every second, an alert blared. Every step, a shudder in the ship's spine. They were still in the sky, orbiting just above Taiquim's planet but nowhere near safety.
Outside the window, giant floating rocks drifted like forgotten gods. Some glowed. Others spun silently, trailing shards of ice and dust. "Asteroids," someone muttered. But these weren't ordinary ones they were sharp, fast, and unpredictable.
"We've entered the Drag Zone," the pilot shouted. "Gravity here shifts every few kilometers. We'll lose speed fast!"
"Can we steer through it?" asked the captain.
"Barely. Engines are giving out."
That was all Coain needed to hear.
He ran again to the engine room, slipping past broken panels, sparks bursting overhead like war fireworks. He heard the injured groaning from the med deck. Another man had lost an arm. A young girl was screaming in pain. But Coain didn't stop.
"You've come this far with me…" he whispered to the engine, pressing his hand against its overheated shell. "…now hold on a little longer."
Behind him, engineers scrambled to obey his quiet commands. Welding torches screamed. Metal clanked. Gears turned. The heart of the ship was pounding.
The damage was deeper than anyone knew. Gravity fluctuations outside were tearing at the ship's structure. The stabilizer systems were shorting out. Worse one of the reactors was misaligned. One wrong shake, and they'd all be floating corpses in deep space.
Coain made a brutal choice.
"We need to reroute power from the main hallway lights," he said, shouting over the alarms. "We need every ounce of juice we can get to balance our thrust through this gravity zone."
"But the crew won't be able to see!" someone cried.
"They'll live," Coain snapped.
In minutes, half the ship went dark—then slowly, one of the side thrusters flared with life.
"Stabilizer is back!" someone yelled.
The ship lurched then glided, just slightly. No more shaking. For now.
But danger wasn't done.
From the clouds ahead, a long streak of rock shot toward them twisting like a blade. It wasn't just falling it was hunting.
"Brace!" the captain shouted.
It slammed against the starboard side. A hole cracked open in the side panel, air whistling through the breach.
"Seal it! Now!"
The hull-sealing team rushed in. Sparks flew. Metal hissed. And again, Coain was in the middle, patching from the inside with fireproof plates. His hands blistered. His voice cracked. But the hole was sealed.
Inside the cockpit, the pilot slowed the ship as they entered a foggy cloud of gravity mist glowing white like fog, but charged with magnetism and resistance. The lights flickered. No radar. No direction. Only feeling.
"We move slow now," the captain ordered.
A sharp beep pierced the tense silence of the command deck.
The captain's eyes snapped to the flickering monitor. A transmission from Earth. The screen lit up with static before stabilizing into the worried faces of the Global Council. Their suits were sharp, but their expressions were anything but confident. Behind them, the Earth President sat frozen, eyes dark with fear.
"Captain Dren," the lead council member began, "we need an update. The world is watching. Where are you now? Is the ship still operational?"
Dren didn't flinch. He stood tall, even as the floor beneath his boots trembled.
"We're approaching Taiquim's planet," he said calmly. "The Drag Zone's slowing us down. We've sustained serious damage lost a few good engineers. But we're still airborne. Barely."
"You need to reach him before he takes off," another council member urged. "Taiquim's threat is spreading like wildfire. Entire cities are panicking. We need assurance. Anything."
Captain Dren's jaw tightened. "We will do everything possible. Tell Earth not to panic. We're not letting that monster set foot here."
The council nodded, eyes heavy with desperation. "Destroy his ship if you must. Whatever it takes."
The transmission ended.
Captain Dren turned to his crew. His voice didn't rise but it cut through the silence like a blade.
"New orders. We move fast the moment gravity clears. We don't wait. We stop Taiquim before he makes the leap."
The crew responded without words just nods, movements, the clatter of boots and tools. Every soul aboard felt the weight now. This wasn't just a mission anymore it was survival for Earth.
With resources running low, a cruel order followed.
"From now on," the captain announced, "rations go to the soldiers only. They need strength when we land. Engineers water and coffee only. Conserve everything."
No one protested. They couldn't afford pride.
In the engine sector, Coain sat with his back against the wall near the ship's heart. Grease covered his hands. Sparks had singed the side of his face. He hadn't eaten in nearly a day but his eyes stayed sharp, fixed on the pulsating engine that beat like a giant heart.
He refused to stray far from it. Not now. Not when it might call to him again at any moment.
The floor rumbled as the pilot's voice echoed across the ship.
"Attention. Everyone, hold onto something we're hitting a dense field of rocks. Gravity's still dragging us, but we'll get through. Stay strapped. Stay sharp."
The ship groaned. Outside, the sky twisted like a slow motion battlefield.
Metallic boulders the size of houses drifted past. Some scraped the hull with deafening screeches. The entire vessel bucked like it was caught in a dying storm. Lights flickered. People screamed. Sparks flew.
Coain stayed on his feet through it all, gripping a pipe with one hand and keeping his eyes on the ship's core with the other. The engine thudded but it held. Just barely.
Engineers clung to their stations, working by instinct. One man sobbed quietly. Another held his injured leg, still hammering a stabilizer panel with his other hand. No one was giving up.
After what felt like hours of torture, the rocks began to thin.
The sky grew clearer.
The ship steadied.
And then the pilot's voice returned, softer but firm:
"We're almost through. We'll be out of the Drag Zone in three hours. Engineers get ready. The ship's going to speed up again."
Coain exhaled, wiped sweat from his brow, and gave the ship's core a slow nod.
"Here we go again," he muttered.