Battered and bloody the young man limped into the clearing where the spaceship awaited, he collapsed and as the men rushed over to him he said "take me home" He was not the first, not by thousands, to be kidnapped by King Haste for the failure of their planet. But he was the first to reach the end of his punishment. now, years later, Nathan and Sara are being punished for earth and must follow in the boy's path to reach the shuttle that awaits them. But before they have even started, an entire army is chasing them down, with the scent of their blood.

Hey, thanks for clicking on my story! I hope you enjoy it, if you did leave a review as all you're probably all writers you know how nice it is to know someone appreciates your work! Thanks, oh and if you find something really confusing worry not as the next chapter will be up really soon and I'll explain it all in there.


Chapter 1

Haste briskly walked along the long corridor .His black shoes clipped against the dark grey stone that lined it, his black cloak swished behind him and broke up the clouds of dancing dust mites, that were highlighted by the golden sun that crept in through the narrow slits in the grey walls. Many under his terrifying rule would say he was the devil, with his cruel un-forgiving eyes that held no happiness and the way it took him a single minute to scar the strongest, proudest men of the whole planet into mute wrecks. Whispered in front of fires when the weather was too cold to go outside, were stories of how he had faced one thousand guns and his voice hadn't even shook as he made his demands. His features were naturally twisted into a scowl and his hands resembled claws. It was said that he once was stronger than ten dozen men, until he was offered immortality by the witches of The Planet Gzarr in exchange for peace. Slowly as the years past his strength reduced until he no longer took part in the battles hosted for his entertainment and even the smallest guard dwarfed him. In his rage Haste had destroyed the Planet Gzarr and hadn't left a single survivor. Only now his skin possessed a waxy look and he had days where he was too weak to even get out of his gigantic bed.

Lining the narrow corridor were slaves, pale from lack of sunlight and little rest. Their clothes were rags, passed to them by the servants, and their bodies were covered in a layer of grime that no amount of scrubbing could wash away. Despite their weakened state they held bundles of wood or coal above their heads with bony arms. They pressed their backs against the wall, desperate to make way for King Haste. Even though many of them had never once been outside the castle, or even ascended the stone steps that took them out of this underground hell, stories of what had happened to people unfortunate enough to stumble in front of him, made even the strongest quiver in their boots that had long ago stopped protecting their feet. The silence was deafening, even the smallest child was paralysed with fear.

Haste had made his way down half the corridor when he heard a cry, much like one of a wounded animal. He froze. Never in his long life had any slave made a noise in his presence. Slowly he turned his head towards the criminal, it was a girl aged around ten. She still held a bundle of wood above her head but her face wasn't filled with fear but with pain. Haste flicked his eyes towards her bony fingers, which still clenched the wood. A splinter had driven itself deep into her finger, a bead of blood boiled up out of her skin. It trickled down her hand and ran down her arm. It reached her bent elbow and fell onto the floor, where it splattered. For a few moments, no-one moved. Haste stared at the girl's face and she stared back, her eyes pleading with him to let her go. Then her arms started trembling with the weight and after a brief few seconds, the wood went tumbling to the floor. The girl stood there shocked and then lunged at the wood scrabbling to pick it up. Haste didn't even need to think before he nodded his head at the two guards standing in front of him. They each took one of her arms and picked her up. The tears poured out of her eyes as they dragged her down the corridor, past the slaves to scared to do anything. They reached a large wooden door and opened it. They shoved the snivelling girl in first and followed her. It was so silent in the corridor that Haste could hear every step they took as they descended into the dungeons. A few minutes passed once the noises grew too faint, in which the woman who had been standing next to the girl, started crying. She must be the girl's mother, Haste thought to himself, they looked so similar- but then all the slaves were stick thin, with bones that stuck out at all angles, with hollow eyes and hunched bodies. The sound of footsteps grew louder until the two guards- minus the girl- appeared. They resumed their positions in front of Haste and they continued to make their way down the corridor, every slave staring at them with pure hatred that had replaced the fear.

Eventually Haste reached the end of the corridor. A large door, much like the one that led to the dungeons, barred his way. At his signal, the guard to his right stepped forward and with an ancient key un-locked the door. He grunted as he pushed open the heavy door, the sound of wood grating against stone cried out. With a last shove, the door opened and the procession made its way into the room beyond. Another ran his hand along the wall until he found the light switch, he clicked it and the lights flickered on revealing a red carpeted room with machinery completely covering one wall. A great screen took pride of place in the wall and a silver projector hung down with a red velvet chair position carefully between the two. The four guards lined up along the wall with arms behind their back and heads held up high. Haste paced around the spacious room pausing in front of every picture that hung there. On every photo were two faces ;some with blood running down the side of the faces. Some were clasping their comrade's hands and others stood far apart as if the other carried a deadly disease. Each of them had the same injured look like the one the slave girl had as she was dragged off to be executed. It took three full minutes for Haste to circulate his trophies; he examined each one remembering the day he sent every pair off to their deaths. Near the end of the long line he paused in front of one where an old woman and boy stood leaning against a black door trying to force it open. They were un-mistakably related, both had the same shade of purple eyes- a rare occurrence on the planet Asti where you could be any shade of any colour and only those closely related looked vaguely similar. One of their long limbs were entwined with the others, the other three were pushing the door open. Haste shook with the anger that this photo always triggered. His breathing grew heavy as his eyes bored into the boy's head. That boy was the only one to ever have made it home and Haste despised him for overcoming everything he had thrown at this boy.

"Examining your photos, I see." A timid voice wearing a mask of confidence came from behind him.

"My trophies." Haste murmured as he continued to walk around. The man behind him hovered un-comfortably at the door, his father had died last year and left him with the job of helping the King with travelling round the universe and he had no-idea on what to do. He eventually made a decision and walked over to the machines and began to start them up. a quite hum was broadcast around the room and the young man wrung his hands watching the King. Haste stopped again, in front of the last photo. One hundred and fifty years ago this had been taken of two fridinnians, people very similar to the tales of mermaids; both were a sickly shade of green. Haste looked at them, would they still be the last in his collection or would he- in a matter of weeks- have a photo of two humans to add to his collection?

Haste made his way over to the chair and sat down, crossing his legs and holding out his hand expectantly. The nervous man fumbled through the sheets of paper he was clutching and drew out a list of figures. The list was titled "Stock count." Haste glanced and it and held it out sighing dramatically,

"I know what we're asking for Milas, I need my speech." He let the paper drop and Milas snatched it, nearly dropping the other papers in the process. A few humiliating seconds later he handed the King a sheet titled "Speech for earth."

"What a helpful title." Haste said mockingly, eyes reading the carefully written speech. Milas went the colour of the chair and looked at Haste like a school boy looking at teacher holding his carefully prepared essay. Haste nodded and a wave of relief washed over Milas. A few moments passed where Milas stood there un-sure of what he was supposed to do next, his father never telling him what to do.

"Right," He said but it came out in a squeaky voice, a guard standing by the door smothered a laugh and Haste , who didn't have to fear his head every time he spoke, said " Oh this is just great I've got a boy managing Earth's delivery." Milas blushed a deep red again, cleared his throat and repeated himself.

"Right, we have arrived at the launching position and the ships have been sent out each one with a pilot, four squadrons of loaders and," He paused un-sure on whether he had made the right move "A capture team." He glanced at Haste, who had stiffened, slowly a grin spread across his face,

"Will we need them?" He asked slowly, enjoying the anticipation. Milas paused, before he sighed,

"Yes, we will probably need them.