Editing The Faceless (section)

== Part Three - A Mysterious End (pt. 3) ==
Kesh found himself being rudely and abruptly cut off by the spray of snow that was tossed up all around him. Before he could react, he felt rough hands clench around his face and throat, pushing him down the ground. He choked as the airflow to his lungs was cut off. He could hear the sound of shouting and scuffling nearby, as Sorne attempted to resist the sudden attack. Kesh began to flail, wildly waving his arms in the hope that he might hit his attacker. Miraculously, his swinging fist made contact with something. Kesh heard a crackling sound, as if glass was breaking, before the enemy released him, stumbling away.

Kesh scrambled to his feet to see a man in a white cloak and reflective faceplate, which now had a crack in it from Kesh’s punch. He saw Sorne tangling with a similarly-dressed enemy nearby, though he was clearly on the back foot. The attacker landed a blow on Sorne’s wounded side, causing the soldier to cry out in pain, dropping to the ground. Kesh saw Sorne’s pistol lying on the ground a few feet away. He dove for it, grabbing frantically for the small weapon. The first attacker, no longer reeling from Kesh’s blow, reached for his own weapon, a long rifle slung around his back. Kesh swung the pistol around towards the attacker and fired, sending a bolt of plasma screeching through the air. The attacker let out a grunt of pain as the shot impacted his leg, sending him sprawling.

The second enemy yelped, before shouting in concern, “Fritz!” He sprinted towards his friend, leaving Sorne on the ground. Kesh ran to Sorne, helping him to his feet, before starting to make his way over the hill.

“Quickly,” he said, barely keeping the panic out of his voice, “Lieutenant Haythe and the others are just over this hill.”

As he scrambled over the edge of the snowdrift, Kesh started to wave to Lieutenant Haythe, who was examining the ruined remains of the colony’s HAB.

“Lieutenant!” he began, shouting to get Haythe’s attention, “There’s raiders! Two of them!” As Kesh finished, Lieutenant Haythe turned to look at him. As he was about to respond, a wailing bolt of plasma hurtled through the air, striking the Lieutenant in the heart, as dozens more raiders began to emerge from the snow. Caught off guard, the soldiers rose from their places around the ruined HAB, frantically trying to organize themselves as shots began to fill the frigid air.

Kesh’s eyes went wide as he saw Lieutenant Haythe’s body hit the ground, unmoving. He sat, frozen, before he felt Sorne’s hand grab him by the collar and pull him over the snowdrift. The soldier dove into the thick snow, and began to drag himself through the icy ground, towards the lander that sat just past the ruined HAB. Kesh felt his heart pounding in his chest, but slowly followed Sorne, crawling on his belly. Plasma flew past overhead, and the raiders continued to advance.

Sorne clambered up the lander’s ramp and ran to the ship’s controls, before Kesh pulled himself into the lander’s interior. Sorne cursed under his breath. “By the Omen, why do these ships all have incomprehensible controls?” He grumbled. Kesh thought back to his time spent aboard the exploratory ship. He had learned how to pilot one of the ship’s sample-gathering ships up there. Surely a lander wasn’t too different.

Hesitantly, Kesh spoke up. “I can fly it, I think.” Sorne gave him a skeptical look but stepped aside to allow Kesh access to the control. Hesitantly, Kesh started the engines, kicking snow into the air, and the ship slowly lifted a few off the ground. The ship’s viewing hatch slid open, revealing that raiders and League soldiers alike were staring at the vehicle as it slowly ascended. The raiders, shrugging off their surprise, began to open fire on the lander, but the plasma had little effect on the ship’s armor plates. Kesh tightly gripped the ship’s control sticks, which sent beams of energy sputtering out of the lander’s cannons. In the single volley, at least a third of the raiders were slain. The rest fled for the snow-covered hills, as the League soldiers raised their rifles in salute to Kesh, cheering.

Kesh sank into the pilot’s chair, relieved. “Dear Omen,” he sighed, “I hope I never see this planet’s surface again.”

''End''
----Graham S. lives in Africa, in the Democratic Republic of Congo. He has been studying at Northstar for two years and is in tenth grade. He enjoys reading, writing, video games, Dungeons and Dragons, and Warhammer 40k. He hopes to one day be an author but currently is enjoying being a journalist for the ''Navigator''.
[[Category:Short Stories]]