CHAPTER EIGHTY
Cloud sat dejectedly in one of the passenger seats in the Bodhran shuttle, running his fingers along the back of the chair. He had completely failed in his mission to save King Glok, and the treacherous Lord Fragg had proved himself a self-serving businessman once again. Cloud had decided his place was not in the Slig army.
Crak wandered into the passenger area, noticed Cloud, and seated himself in the chair beside him. “It’s not yer fault, kid,” the older country Slig said. “You tried.”
“And failed,” Cloud growled. He punched the chair angrily. “Sligs aren’t trained to fail!”
“Nobody fails on purpose,” Crak said. “Once we get back to Bodhran, we’ll be out o’ the government’s sight again. We’ve never had anythin’ to do with the government before.”
Cloud grinned. “I think I’m going to like being away from the hustle of Mantin City.”
“Bodhran’s a country jewel, kid. You’ll like it.”
Frizzl’s voice came from the cockpit of the shuttle: “Hey, Crak – get up here! There’s something you gotta hear!”
Crak and Cloud stood and hurried to the front of the shuttle. Frizzl was bent over the controls, his eyes glowing. A Slig voice, filled with static, was broadcasting from the comm. board.
“—requesting assistance. Repeat, this is Mantin City Defense Board; we are under attack and requesting assistance. Repeat…”
Cloud didn’t waste any time. He waved his hand in the direction they had just left. “Turn the ship around.”
Frizzl turned to Crak. “Boss?”
Crak scratched his face tentacles. “You sure, kid? I mean, last time I checked, you was tryin’ to get away from that crowd.”
Cloud clenched his fists. “I’m a soldier. I can’t shirk my duty when they actually need me. Turn the ship around!”
Crak nodded. “Fine. Do it, Frizzl.”
“Right away.”
Frizzl threw a lever around, and Cloud felt his stomach do a flip as the shuttle spun on its vertical axis and accelerated back toward Mantin City.
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