Walter was not entirely sure how long he had expected the ship to be travelling for but six hours was far longer than he had thought it would take. His perception had been corrupted by the media it seemed, all too used to seeing films and games portray ships that could cross the stars from one side of the galaxy to the other in the space of a few seconds. Clearly in all of Zakarr’s magnificence he could not afford a ship that could do anything remotely like that. The trip was exhausting, the kind that could wear out even the most patient of men, and Walter felt even worse as he struggled to stomach any of the food rations that he was offered while he waited. There was nothing particularly alien about what he was given much to his disappointment, some small amounts of meat and what looked and felt like bread, but it all tasted like sawdust to him and made his stomach churn barely a moment after swallowing it.

Alison responded in exactly the same way, although she only had the opportunity to swallow a few mouthfuls of her meal before Zakarr hurried her off for a few practice sessions, dragging her by the wrist into an unmarked room some distance down the corridor. Walter asked if he could come with them to watch and offer encouragement but was declined the opportunity, apparently because he served as too much of a distraction for Allison and it was have a negative impact on her lessons. He took that as a compliment as it had taken a long time for him to gain Allison’s trust and he liked it that other people noticed they were friends. He waved the woman off as she was dragged off into the distance and set about finding a way to entertain himself. After finding out Zakarr’s ship did in fact not have wifi, something which should have been immediately obvious, he set about starting a conversation with a few of the Vulcan crewmembers as he tried to force down the remains of his rations.

Half of the conversation Walter didn’t understand. The crew, a small group of engineers who managed the ship’s engines when they were not on their break babbled on about fusion reactors and flight stabilisers, and the mechanics behind that which made them function. Walter doubted even Earth’s greatest rocket scientist, which was probably Richie if he were to hazard a guess, would be able to understand the entire thing. He did manage to gleam a little useful information off of them, however, mostly about the Vulcan homeworld, information that they were all too willing to share.

It was dying, as Walter already knew. Entire crops were wilting, rivers were drying up, and verdant forests were turning to dust overnight. The atmosphere was breathable, even if the air itself was now incredibly thin, but toxic fumes had started to spill from cracks in the earth that could kill a man in a few short minutes. The gravity was slightly lighter than Earth’s as it always had been, and great canyons marked most of the planet. Walter found their stories hard to take, but he preferred to keep a closer eye on the good thing. Vulca had more exposed rock and less restrictive gravity than Earth did, meaning that his ability to manipulate silicon should be even easier to use than it was back in Metro Bay. His skills would be amplified and he could fight better, meaning he would be of more use to the people who needed him.

Having exhausted himself with conversation, Walter found a calm, quiet portion of the ship somewhere in the storage bay. Here he practiced some rudimentary skills, making the stones he carried dance gracefully in his hands and even manipulating a few larger bricks which had been left among the cargo. It seemed to impress the crew.

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“You don’t need to replace the barrel with a tungsten alloy, though. These plasma casters should easily be able to resist the heat generated by the plasma bolts if you flash-freeze the inside of the barrel.”

It was Richie who spoke. He rested on his back, the top half of his body lying underneath an obscenely large cannon that was covered in strangely coloured metals and glistening purple neon lights. It hummed gently, showing that it was on but was not drawing a significant amount of power from the ship’s core which it was connected to, and the railings that it rested on could automatically move the weapon so that the barrel was pointing outside of the ship while the controller was safely inside, allowing for ship-to-ship combat without risking the gunman. Richie’s voice was muffled, both by the thick layers of metal between him and the person he was speaking to and the sound of power tools which screamed in the background far louder than he could speak. Ritchie continued to talk regardless, lecturing the ship’s engineers on how to run their own ship.

The head of engineering and weaponry, an old Vulcan man with more gruesome scars than on his body than years he had lived, did not seem all too impressed that this primitive was interfering with his equipment. He felt even worse when the information he was being given started to sink in, proving that Richie did in fact know more about these weapons than he did.

But a small smile crept upon his face. Flash-freezing the barrel of the weapon required large amounts of energy which they couldn’t afford, and he knew for a fact that even some of the most advanced ships didn’t have the capacity to keep the firing barrel of a plasma caster cool.

He responded, his tongue sharp. “Do you know how much additional power that would require to keep it coo for more than a few seconds? And the kind of technology we’d have to get our hands on to keep the weapon from shattering the moment we fired? We just can’t afford it on such limited resou-”

Richie interrupted him by pushing himself out from underneath the weapon. “One moment, Xerxar,” he said, moving over to his glider which was packed neatly up on the desk. Xerxar frowned at the human’s dismissal of his comment, but folded his arms and remained silent for a few moments longer.

 A younger ship engineer was giving Richie’s glider a quick glance over, apparently struggling to understand how it even worked. Richie gently pushed him aside and opened up a panel on the bottom, pulling out a small cylinder that was cold to the touch.

Xerxar spoke again. “If you mess with it any more you’re going to break something. Stupid primi-”

Richie had ignored the man once more, sliding himself back underneath the futuristic weapon and connecting the cylinder he had collected to the weapon with a small tube. He flicked a switch and the plasma caster whirred to life, energy flickering from the tip of the barrel like smoke from a chimney. The barrel tipped over, pointing towards the small group of Vulcan engineers, and they immediately panicked. Screaming as they leapt out of the way, flailing their arms about as they did so, they all ducked for what cover they could as the weapon rotated and eventually pointed towards a small circular panel on the side of the ship’s hull. It opened, revealing a small barrier of energy that kept the atmosphere stable, and slid forwards so that the weapon was pointed outside of the ship. After a short period of charging it fired, expelling a huge amount of purple plasma which struck the side of a small asteroid which shot alongside the ship, causing it to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. The weapon was silenced just as quickly as Richie pulled out a plug, the plasma caster quickly sliding back into its originally position, and the six armed man pushed himself out from underneath the cannon and stood up.

He dusted himself off and offered a hand to help up one of the engineers who hesitantly took it. Richie pulled him up and patted his back reassuringly. “Relax,” Richie said. “No harm done. Promise.”

“Are you insane?” yelled the Xerxar, storming up to Richie and pressing a thick finger against his chest in a threatening manner. He bared his teeth and his breathing was heavy, although whether it was from anger or fear Richie couldn’t tell.

“No, I apologise. You might be thinking of Skull-Man,” he replied. “I rewired part of the firing mechanism and connected it up to a cooling unit from my glider. The weapon still works fine with no additional energy usage, as you just saw, but the cool-off period should have been reduced by thirty or forty percent, give or take.”

The head engineer looked stunned. “That’s impossible. There’s no way a primitive like you could have made a powerful enough cooling system compatible with our technology with no cons”

“I literally just did it.”

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Allison trained with Zakarr for the best part of four hours before she collapsed to her knees, her body aching and her fingers trembling. She was surprised how long she had managed to stand up to the alien’s assault, taking kicks, punches and telekinetic blasts from all angles. Zakarr was pushing her limited capabilities and even holding back he was destroying her piece by piece. The fire she produced was clumsy and weak, barely enough to ignite a few blocks of wood that had been set up for her to practice. Her armour held up strong, thankfully, and it meant that Zakarr’s punches and kicks grazed off of her skin and prevented any serious damage. It was the only thing that seemed to impress the alien prince, as it made her almost invulnerable to traditional weaponry and combat tactics.

Actually developing her skills, however, was proving fruitless. Her fire manipulation was poor, as it always had been, and despite Ra’s nagging voice whispering in her ear Allison was unable to produce anything that was even remotely like telekinesis. Zakarr’s training was harsh and he refused to let Allison relax, pushing her and pushing her. She knew why he was doing it; stress forced her to try her best, if only to prove to Zakarr that she could do it, but Allison would be lying if she said the new training regimen didn’t exhaust her. She could barely move.

“Stand up,” Zakarr. “Or are all primitives this lazy?”

It was just another attempt to provoke a reaction. Allison clenched her fists and pressed them both against the floor, using her arms to support herself as she stood back up. Her muscles screamed at her to stop but she carried on, sweat dripping from her forehead and her hair matted with it, sticking to her face and neck. Silvery metal covered her body once more and she felt fire seep from her veins, coating both of her arms in it.

Allison threw a punch at Zakarr which he blocked, both of his arms raised to protect his face, and every lunge, kick, and curved punch that Allison threw, the alien prince blocked it. Sparks flew with every punch and fire burst from her body, only glancing off of Zakarr’s body due to the telekinetic barrier he produced. One more try.

“Is that all you can muster? You look like you can barely stand,” Zakarr continued, tossing his staff aside and raising both of his arms and a defensive stance.

The human woman, forcing what energy she had left through her tired limbs, threw herself forwards. She punched and kicked, her arms spitting flames with every movement, and tried her best to find some gap in Zakarr’s defences. Her throws were slow and sluggish, a sharp throb running up her limbs each time, but she fought through it. She threw a kick against the side of Zakarr’s leg, the metal of her leg colliding with his leathery flesh. Allison pulled her leg back, catching her foot on Zakarr’s limb, and tripped the prince. He stood strong but lost his balance, leaving a small enough opening for Allison to take advantage of.

The punch went straight through the alien prince’s block. Allison’s hand erupted with flames at the moment, a spiral of fire which engulfed Zakarr and threw him backwards, scorching the wall behind him. Allison looked just as surprised as he did, worrying if she had hurt the man, but his telekinetic powers were strong and the fires bounced harmlessly off him. She was amazed to find that the fire died as she relaxed her hand, only to flare up again with a clench. Zakarr moved to the side, out of the way of her magical powers, and spent a moment watching the human woman experiment with the fire she could now command easily.

He smiled, watching as she played with her powers. Allison drew tiny shapes in the air with a trail of fire, and then threw a fist sized fireball which collided with the wall. A huge grin spread out across her face, betraying her usually sombre nature. The fires fizzled out quickly as Allison still had issues maintaining them, but she was delighted that she now had some semblance of control.

“Want to try another round?” Allison asked, looking to Zakarr.

The alien prince took his battle stance once more and Allison met it, finding herself invigorated once more. “Do not get cocky, human. You have much to learn.”