"What do you mean, 'We're stuck here'?"
"I mean that we're stuck on some little planet in the middle of nowhere!"
"But...that's just not possible. We're not lost. We're really not lost..."
Oh, but they were. They were stuck on this itty-bitty planet in a solar system not even recognized by their computer sensors. They'd run into some sort of spacial anamoly, and they'd ended up...here.
Where ever here was.
But where were they?
The pilots had landed in a large field on the little planet. They had crashed into a small pond, and several bovine-looking farm animals stood wide-eyed across the field, glancing at them while munching on the grass.
Suddenly, there was a pounding of horse hooves....
Three tall, dark figures rode up--quickly and stealthily. Hobbie remembered looking up at the horseman before something big came down and hit his head.
He awoke in a large-was this place a dungeon-room, the sound of water dripping from somewhere. There was light through a small opening, and the smell-
Well, the smell wasn't so nice. But that didn't really matter. He was alive and...somewhat well.
Hobbie opened one eye at the guard. He was in some sort of brown rags, holding up what appeared to be a very small spear. He couldn't have been much older than sixteen, and he was not well defended at all, yet he carried his head in a certain manner. As if he had some great and glorious power protecting him.
It sounded as if there was a light step coming closer to what he guessed was his cell. The young man suddenly flushed a bit, murmuring and bowing to whoever was coming,and unlocked the gate for her. The woman wore flowing purple robes, and a small wreath of wildflowers. A lacy veil covered her face, and she motioned for the guard to leave. He did, with a wavering step, and an unsteady smile.
Once he had turned away, she pulled back her veil. She was beautiful-there was no denying that. Her brown hair was long and flowing, and her hazel eyes twinkled at him. Her smile was small and shy, and her skin was a milky-pale.
He tried to stand, but his head started to ache again. The woman-girl, really- took a small cloth from a nearby bucket. She motioned for him to sit again, and she placed the cool cloth on his forehead. It felt somehow refreshing,and the pain eased away.
"Wh-who are you?" he finally stuttered out. The woman laughed, then smiled back at him. She took off the rest of her headdress, then shook her hair free. She turned back to him, still sitting against the wall, and curtsied.
"Greetings," she finally said in a smooth, soft voice. "I am Gabriella Treton, of the house of Jasson. I am the lady in waiting for the Duchessa De Welayon. And whom might you be?"
He clumsily offered his hand, mentally reminding himself to stop drooling. She had to be only about 16! "Hobbie Klivian," he said. "Pilot for Rogue Squadron."
She took his hand, and kissed it. Her brows knotted as she tried to interpret the information he'd given her.
A moment later, she finally spoke.
"What's a pilot?"
Continued in Part Two