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Smoke threw the police officers out of the airlock, and they crashed into the sands below.
“Stop!” one of them cried.
But Smoke shut the doors. All four of the officers ran below, chasing after the ship, but it was too high up for them to catch.
Easy job. He hadn't even needed the knife.
Smoke walked back into the bridge, checking for anyone else on the bridge.
No one.
He entered the bridge and settled into the pilot’s seat.
The starry sands stretched ahead, the sky full of crisscrossing spotlights.
It was time to get out of this hellhole.
He grabbed the steering joystick.
It had been a long time since he commanded a ship.
His head hurt as he tried to remember a memory.
Was it of the last time he'd touched a joystick?
His head hurt too much for him to remember.
Focusing o
