*Escape Plan

Intro: I wanted to try writing a little space opera. I love lots of space opera shows, books, comics, but for some reason I just don't write much involving space ships and whatnot. I kind of like how this one turned out although it is more character driven then setting driven.

Brighton let the tip gun drop, facing the metal floor as he stared across the room at the large screen. The firefight continued outside the ship. Small fighters darted through the attacks of the larger cruisers. His ship, Midnight Hour, was on a collision course with the Behemoth. He threw himself at the controls, letting the gun spin off the top as he pushed and prodded at the buttons and switched. An explosion rocketed off of the ship and his feet slipped for a moment. He thanked the raiders for attacking when they did to give him the opportunity of a lifetime.

"This time's for real."

The Behemoth turned and Brighton stared down the length of the warship, the weapons casting faint orange light as the prepared for fire. The raiders were gone, dead or jumped out of there he wasn't sure. They were a variable he hadn't expected and it didn't matter if they were there or not.

"Midnight Hour, you will stand down and prepare for boarding or we will fire."

Brighton grabbed the microphone, "Death first!"

He turned his attention back to the controls his hands dancing across the keyboard.

"Almost there." The right engine responded and altered his course.

The door behind him hissed open and he dived to the side and scrambled for his gun. A shot fizzed and burned out against the floor as he turned. His first shot took a man in the chest, knocking him backwards with a scorched jacket. The second man backpedaled for the safety of the door, but Brighton's next two shots floored him. The hum from the gun faded away and he sighed.

He got to his feet, and checked the hallway. Nothing moved. The ship rocked and his head slammed into the wall, blacking his vision for a few seconds. He turned back to the screen. The behemoth filled the whole screen, the orange light of the exterior cannons cast shadows in the control room.

"This is your last warning, stand down and prepare for boarding or we will blow you out of the sky."

Brighton closed his eyes picturing the yellow grassy fields that surrounded his house. Two children played on the field watched over by their parents. The wife looked like her murdered mother. He slammed his hand down on the console. He knew it was wrong, somehow, that his mind was foggy.

His worn hands looked even older than usual bathed in the orange light. The ship jolted as the boarding clamps attached just as the left engine roared to life. The larger ship held him firmly in place. He stared at the Behemoth, the gun in his hands. The weapon felt heavy as he weighed life and death. The door hissed open. He raised the gun taking in the crisp uniform of the man who entered.

"Brighton put down the gun."

Five men stood at the door, their weapons trained on him.

He glanced at the gun in his hand, chuckling. "To think, we meet again after all this time, Jeremiah"

"Don't do anything stupid."

Brighton's fingers brushed the switch on the barrel, turning the gun from tranquilizer to particle.

"You haven't killed anyone," Jeremiah inched closer, his hands raised.

"You've got that right!" Brighton raised the gun, his hands steady. "I didn't kill anyone!"

Panic flashed across the other man's face as Brighton moved around the console.

"Brighton, don't do anything stupid."

"I did not kill her and you know it." He glanced at the men standing in the doorway. "I did not kill my wife. I tell you. Someone else killed her. I just want to go home. To see my daughter, Tatianna."

"Brighton," Jeremiah said, "you have no daughter. She died in childbirth."

The reality crashed down around his ears. Tatianna had spent five minutes in this life before moving on. He had no one waiting for him anywhere. Brighton brought his gun back up, "I'd rather die than go back. How about we go together?"

"If you wish, you could resist arrest and I could make sure you never return." Jeremiah gave a sad smile.

Brighton raised the gun, "You're coming with me. You don't think I've lost my mind that much have you? How it must have driven you crazy that a mere farmer could advance higher than a boy soldier when recruited for the war. That, and my wife and child. I could be the one captaining the Behemoth today if not for you."

He pulled the trigger of the gun and Jeremiah reared back.

"Boom," Brighton said and dropped the empty gun. "How does it feel, to know that I killed you?" He raised his hands and put them on his head as the soldiers flowed around him. "I'll go back, for now. But don't worry, I'll kill you again. See you later."

He chuckled to himself as the men bound his hands and followed them over to the Behemoth cells.

Jeremiah picked up the empty gun his pulse still racing. "I'm getting to old for this."

"Sir, are you alright? What is up with that man?" Another man said, coming on the bridge.

"He was the most brilliant tactician in the war," Jeremiah said. "Only when his wife and daughter died he lost all grip on reality."

"Did you know him—before?"

Jeremiah rubbed his neck, feeling every one of his years. "He was my best friend."

"Why do we keep him around?"

"Because even insane, we can still learn from him. Every five years we transfer him to see if he can escape our newest prison transport. He broke the security system you designed. Five more seconds and we would have lost him."

The security officer stared at the control panel his eyes widening at the truth.

"Don't worry, he breaks everyone's system. At least he didn't get away this time."