Trace bit his lip as he fiddled with the door's electronic lock, a bead of sweat dribbling down his face. The young half-elf brushed his hair out of his face and connected the leads to the keypad next to the maintenance door. As alphanumeric sequences rapidly flashed across the screen of the small electronic lock pick, Trace took a moment to look around. He was kneeling on a narrow ledge over eighty floors above street level outside a maintenance hatch which led a to a skygarage below some noble's penthouse. Getting up here had been a chore in itself, the cops usually came down hard on jetboarders in the richer sectors of the city so getting this far had been a challenge. As long as the occupant of the penthouse stayed upstairs in his office, and judging by the sound of the conversation he was having he'd be busy for a while, this job should be a cake walk. With a beep, a sequence of numbers on the lock pick's display flashed green indicating that it had found the unlock code. Trace unclipped the leads and closed the keypad's cover before punching in the code. With a buzz, the alarm disengaged and the door opened with a click.

Stuffing the lock pick into a pocket, Trace stepped into the darkened garage closing the door behind him. There were two jumpcraft sitting in the parking bays, even in the low light one of them caught Trace's eye. Sleek and low slung, with its propulsion units lying flush against the body, it was a four seater luxury sports model. As he traced his hand across its smooth surface, Trace whistled. “Now this, this is a thing of beauty.” Able to see perfectly in the darkness thanks to the diluted elven blood flowing through his veins, he peered in at the dashboard. The odometer was only a few points above zero, the jumpcraft was practically new. “It'll be a shame to see you broken down for parts,” he sighed.

Slapping a button on the wall, the garage door slid open allowing sunlight to stream into the garage illuminating the interior. Using a small pocket knife, Trace popped open an access panel on the side of the jumpcraft and began to disable the alarm system and tracking device. He was in the middle of disconnecting it when a massive explosion from outside rocked the building. Trace ran over to the garage door and looked out. High in the sky, a fleet of ships was diving out of the clouds and raining plasma death down on the city below while smaller fighter craft buzzed around strafing anything that moved.

“What the frack?” Trace muttered.

--

Upstairs in his penthouse, the half-red dragon Torodo was in his office barking into the view screen at his accountant when the connection was suddenly lost as the window blew inwards spraying the room with shattered glass. Picking himself up on the floor, Torodo stared out of the window as unidentified ships began bombarding the city and a nearby skyscraper collapsed in flames. One of the smaller ships, a four pronged star fighter swooped down and raked Torodo's penthouse with weapons fire. Green globs of plasma energy gouged huge chunks out the plascrete sending debris tumbling down to the street level below. Torodo dived and rolled out of the office as part of the ceiling came crashing down, crushing several pieces of art whose list price was greater than the planet's annual GDP.

From the hallway, Torodo could hear the wail of air raid sirens adding their monotonal dirge to the sounds of chaos and destruction. As he watched the senseless attack, Torodo came to a decision. Grabbing his coat and belt, he started running towards the stairs the led to the garage. Jumping over a fallen support beam, Torodo reached the top of the stairs and almost bounded down them in to the garage below. He skidded to stop at the foot of the stairs when he saw a figure silhouetted against he open door of the garage. Snarling and in no mood for games, he drew a small hilt-like cylinder from his belt and advanced on the figure facing away from him. As he thumbed the activation switch, the hilt thrummed as powerful emitters within it created an enclosed and focused magnetic field. With a hiss, white hot plasma flooded into the space enclosed by the field creating a 6 foot long blade of pure energy.

At the sound of the plasma swords activation, Trace span round and jumped backwards as the point of the plasma blade was pointed threateningly in his direction. Torodo's scales flushed from a dark red to a vibrant blood red. “What in the nine hells are you doing in my house?” Torodo yelled.

“Technically,” Trace smirked, “I'm in your garage.”

Torodo stepped forward, bringing the point of the blade towards Trace's face. “What then, are you doing in my garage?” He asked growling.

Trace took a step backwards, the heel of his left foot hanging off the edge of the ledge. He glanced behind him at the eighty story drop and gulped. Holding his hands up in what he hope was a placating manner, he turned back towards the irate home owner. “Looks like it's painfully obvious,” Trace said, glancing nervously at the open access panel in this side of the jumpcraft, “I was trying to steal your jumper.” If you can't tell them a good lie, the guildmaster had once told him, then surprise them with the truth. It seemed to work as the half-dragon's mouth opened as if he was trying to come up with something to say, and the point of the blade lowered. He was interrupted as another explosion rocked the building and cracks appeared in the walls and ceiling.

“I haven't got time for this elf.” Torodo said dismissively.

Trace's face flushed red with muted anger. “HALF-elf!” he retorted back in a raised voice.

“Whatever kid.” Torodo deactivated the sword and turned his back on Trace. Ripping the leads from the jumpcraft's computer ports, he slammed the access panel closed and grasped the driver side door handle. Sensors in the door handle, automatically scanned his bioelectric field and, recognising that he was authorised, allowed him to open the door. The seat automatically adjusted itself to accommodate his tail as he sat down at the controls.

As Torodo got in the jumpcraft, Trace quickly unclipped the jetboard from his belt and extended the front and back footpads. Standing at the door of the skygarage, he stared at the carnage taking place outside. Weapons fire from the ground based defences at the nearby starport targeted the hovering warships but the defence turrets were quickly silenced as several of the enemy vessels targeted the starport, immolating it in concentrated plasma fire. There was no way he was going out in that he thought to himself, it would be suicide. Swallowing his pride he ran over to Torodo to beg for a ride but stopped when he saw the half-dragon looking at the controls in confusion.

“Please, don't tell me that you don't know how to fly your own jumper!” Trace said in disbelief.

“I usually have someone drive me,” Torodo tried to explain, “it looks so simple when he does it.”

“Move over scale face,” Trace said as he opened the drivers door, “I'll drive.” Although he bristled at the racial slur, Torodo nonetheless relinquished the driver's seat to Trace and climbed over onto the back seat. Trace quickly started the jumpcraft, and seeing the display lights shining a solid green, wasted no time in accelerating out of the garage as the penthouse finally collapsed behind them.

Streaking out into the cityscape, it took all of Trace's concentration to weave in and out of fleeing traffic. A collision at these speeds and at this altitude would be fatal. He was dodging under a large commercial jumpcraft when two bolts of plasma skimmed the sides of the jumpcraft and plunged into the trailer detonating its cargo in a massive fireball. Torodo and Trace whipped their heads around to look at the flaming wreckage just in time to see two of the alien fighters burst through the smoke in pursuit.

“We've got company!” Screamed Torodo as the fighters gained ground and began to spray the air around the jumpcraft with plasma.

“I know, I know!” Trace yelled back as he jinked the jumpcraft around a third fighter that appeared from the canyon like gap between two megalithic skyscrapers. Within seconds, they had all three fighters hot on their tail in an aerial chase over 800 feet above the ground and at speeds over 200 miles per hour, weaving between skyscrapers and other traffic in a deadly dance. A glob of plasma from one of the chasing fighters sheared off the port thruster pod, a few inches to the right and it might have taken off one of their heads. As the engine spiralled away to crash into a building, the jumpcraft lurched as Trace tried to correct for the new imbalance in the thrust. “Crap they got one of the engines,” muttered Trace.

Torodo's scales flushed red and he turned to face the chasing fighters. “Stop blowing holes in my jumper!” He roared. “And you,” he said turning to Trace, “fly faster, you're supposed to be a jumper thief aren't you? Well fly like one.”

“Will you just shut up and let me drive!” Trace snapped as Torodo pulled back one of the rear seats a pulled a long hunting rifle from a storage compartment. Slapping a power cell into the socket, he checked the charge level and took aim at the pursuing craft. As one the fighters jockeyed for a firing position, Torodo fired. A beam of yellow laser light lanced out connecting the rifle and its target with a continuous half second beam. The laser beam stuck the side of the fighter, just behind the cockpit. It was a glancing strike however, the beam dissipating as it struck the armour plating.

Trace flipped the jumpcraft on its side as he banked it violently around a tight corner. Behind them, plasma fire stitched across the side of an office block. Torodo slammed to the side, almost dropping the rifle overboard. Cursing, he braced himself and took aim again only to have his shot ruined as the jumpcraft dove into the skeletal structure of a half-completed tower, weaving between girders and cross bracing struts. “Keep her steady, I can't get a clear shot!” Torodo yelled over his shoulder.

“If I give you a clear shot, I'm giving them one as well and they have considerably better guns than that peashooter of yours.” Trace yelled back.

“Er ... keep up the good flying kid. Don't let them get a bead on us.”