Ship: The Kurgan

Starways - Hyperspeed transit lanes between systems

ASH STIRRED AWAKE AGAINST A GRIMY METAL WALL. The throbbing in his pectoral woke him up more than anything, the wound had scabbed over quickly but not healed. For all their many strengths, whenever Astrals or Entrophs were actually hurt, their healing process wasn't much faster than anyone else's.

He groaned and lifted his head, looking over the large stasis cuffs now encasing his wrists and forearms. Strong alloy, air-tight seal, probably effective against creatures close to his strength level, but with effort, he heard them start to groan.

"Wouldn't bother if I was you," the bounty hunter, Qarnan, called from the distance. "Those cuffs'll pump ya with a couple thousand more volts if ya pull too hard."

Ash glanced through a horizontal rack of bars to his left. Through cell door, Ash saw he was in a cargo hold, no doubt of the Slicer freighter judging by the dulled roar of the engines. The dull thrum gave a hint as well: they were already in space. Leaning up, Ash peered through the bars to scan his environment: the cargo hold. 50x100 feet or so, 30 foot walls leading up to a raised grate walkway around the space, with access doors towards the prow of the ship. Racks of weapons and makeshift tools lined the walls, and in one corner, some kind of centuries old long-barrel artillery turret stood on huge metal legs. Between the racks, every bit of empty wall space was adorned with wrinkled, faded posters. Though frayed and browning with age, Ash could see what looked like Earth writing on them, the text splayed over ridiculous paintings of various humans in dramatic poses. He made out the titles of 'Highlander,' 'Heavy Metal,' "Stunt Rock,' 'Conan the Barbarian,' 'The Road Warrior' and…'Breakfast at Tiffany's.' And in the center of the cargo hold, surrounded by various crates and toolboxes, Sledger Qarnan laid on a rolling board beneath the Valkyrie rider, suspended on chains.

Ash shifted to the left, wedging himself in the corner of the cell with his back to the wall and his left arm leaning on the bars. "Why am I here?" he managed.

"HA! Good one."

"Look, I don't know who you think I am, but I can promise you I'm nobody important, I—"

"Ah cut the shit, Sheriff," he cut off from beneath the machine, "Ain't no 'nobodies' walkin' around with that thing."

One of his arms reached out from under the Valkyrie and pointed towards his harness, now similarly hanging from a chain. Ash's eyes widened and his breathing quickened, he fumbled forward until he faced the door fully. "Listen, pal," he fought to keep his calm, "You might not like my temperament without that thing."

"I ain't fond of a with it neither," Qarnan snarked, "But relax; the cuffs'll knock ya out if ya run too hot. Ya ain't blowin' a hole in my boat."

Ash looked at the cuffs and sighed indignantly. The voltage could knock him out if he willed himself not to resist, but if he were to actually let his anger out, the metal would melt right off him. That wasn't his real concern; there was a new tension now: if his chest wound raised his blood pressure enough, or if he failed to moderate his emotions, his harness was a good distance away. All he'd need to do was step on the floor too hard, and the Tectonic Mantle would blow the ship in half — sending him one way, and the harness the other, aimless in space. Then everyone's screwed, he thought. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and forced his breathing to slow down, as Qarnan craned his head up from the other side of the Valkyrie.

"Got som etemper, don't ya, Sheriff?" he jabbed. "Makes sense, I s'pose — bein' Maladact's crotch dumplin' and all."

Ash slumped his head on the bars as Qarnan chuckled. "Glad someone finds this funny."

"Y'know, I do! I really do," Qarnan laughed more fully as he wheeled out from under the Valkyrie. "I mean, look at it, Sheriff," he stood, swaggering over to the cell. "Ya ain't exactly feastin' on orphans and drinkin' puppy blood, know what I mean? I mean, the Dreadlord's own—"

"Maladact isn't the Dreadlord."

"Huh?"

"Maladact isn't the Dreadlord, the Dreadlord is a fallen Astral that Maladact corrupted, and—never mind, it's a whole…cosmology thing."

"Whatever!" Qarnan brushed off, "Anyway, my mockery: the God of Temptation, the most evil sonuvabitch in all the cosmos, that guy's firstborn little jizz-ling is off playin' cops and robbers for some mud eatin' miners in the backwater of space?? I'm sorry Sheriff, that just tickles me!"

Ash grunted and sat up. "I'm sure he's grievously disappointed. Now listen to me," he leaned on the bars, "Those people back there are in danger. Pirate King Takenda's been circling them for years now, and there's nobody for lightyears in any direction willing to protect them. You understand?"

Qarnan raised a brow and took Ash in for a long moment, then exploded with wheezing laughter. "AHAHAHAHAhaaaa…" he wheezed again, "Oh cripes Sheriff, yer old man might just CRY if he ever meets you!"

Ash grimaced and hauled himself up. "Listen scumbag, those people are going to die if no one looks out for them!"

"What's new?!" Qarnan shouted back with glee, "It's a frockin' meat grinder out here, Sheriff! Since when to the Assies care about anyone outside'a their shiny little hug-box?"

"I do!" he finally admitted, his yell rattling the metal around him.

"THAT'S WHAT MAKES IT FUNNY, SHERIFF!"

Qarnan belly laughed again, Ash squeezing the metal bar on the cell door, feeling it bend like plastic in his grip. He tightened his jaw and shut his eyes, fighting as he felt his temperature spike. When Qarnan's laugh died down, Ash nearly spoke again, but stopped himself. His eyes darted from Qarnan to the Valkyrie. He took a moment and exhaled earnestly. "…Sorry about your ride." Qarnan's grin turned to a scowl. He snorted and turned his back on the cell. "Need help fixing it? Figure it's only fair."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"I wudn't born yesterday, Sheriff."

"You said it yourself, the cuffs will put me down if I try anything. I've seen Valkyries before, I know the engine enough."

"Nobody touches her but Papa Sledge."

"Come on, it's…it's the only thing I like to do."

Qarnan paused for a moment as he reached the Valkyrie, head bobbing back in confusion. "Huh. Looked like ya had a godod time blowin' fire out yer eyes, pitchin' me across yer town and whatnot."

Ash closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the bars. "It's…the only thing I like that I like to do," he trailed off, relaxing his tensed shoulders. "Fixing things, instead of breaking them."

Qarnan chewed his cheek for a second, then shrugged. "Frock it," he thumbed a command on his gauntlet, "Why not?"

The cell door rose before Ash. The Ascendant of War cautiously approached, nodding at Qarnan. The bounty hunter tossed a wrench at him, and Ash caught it despite his restraints. Qarnan pointed at a metal crate beside the tool boxes, Ash sat on it while he laid back on the rolling board and slid under the Valkyrie.

Time passed as the two worked on the Valkyrie. They bent metal pack into place, traded out bent panels and frayed wires, Ash gave and took tools, while Qarnan tightened bolts and threaded new tubing through the frame into the engine. After a while, Ash cleared his throat. "My father doesn't work with bounty guilds."

"Nope."

"So who put out the bounty?"

"Yer sister," Qarnan said, cavalier. Ash froze in place. "Pretty slick broad, too. Lot more personable than you."

"…What?" Ash finally managed.

"Well, I guess the whole thing's subjective; gal's got a real punk thing goin on, and sure, that ain't for everybody, but—"

"No, no, not that," Ash cut off, shaking his head, "You said my sister??"

"Yeah, so?"

Ash hesitated, words catching in his throat. "I…I never heard about my sister. I knew she existed, but I…I thought she just lived on Cindreth, I thought…"

"Quit thinkin' and take this," Qarnan said flippantly as he tossed a pair of pliers at Ash. The tool pinged him right in the forehead, crumpling the metal while Ash didn't even flinch. "Damn it, I ain't got a lotta those, look alive here, Sheriff!"

"I take it you didn't ask why she wanted me."

"Never do. Figure it's on account'a that fire in yer gut," he said, snapping his fingers and pointing at a welding torch.

Ash sighed, "Not sure what she thinks she'll get out of it," he slapped the welder in Qarnan's hand, "It's embedded in me. Like a parasite."

Qarnan struck the torch and set to work. "Gimme a break, Sheriff. One'a the strongest things in the whole 'verse picks you outta all the other geeks on Arleth, shacks up in yer guts and gives ya planet-breakin' power, and you talk about it like ya gat Taurian Herpes."

Qarnan welded a thruster back in place as Ash rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly agreeable to my temperament," he sad, then jerked an elbow towards his harness on the chain. "I built that thing to suppress it. Only way to keep the Astrals from treating me like a time bomb."

Qarnan grunted, "Assies are a bunch'a tight-sphinctered little pukes, I'll give ya that. But the way I hear it, you ain't been with them fer a while. Why not rip off the collar, run with the wolves?"

Ash looked down, kneading his fingers. "…I hurt people without it. And I like it."

"Sounds like yer gifted fer it."

Ash scoffed, "Some voice in your head screams at you every hour, tells you to destroy everything in sight — you call that a gift?"

Qarnan flicked the torch off. "Didn't need a voice in my head fer that, Sheriff…" Ash looked down at him now, trying to parcel out his tone. Wistful? Nostalgic? "Hand me that fuel line." Ash followed Qarnan's finger to a laid out length of tubing. He fed it into Qarnan's hand, Qarnan threaded it into a port on the engine. He tightened it in place, then patted the Valkyrie's side. "There ya go, baby," he soothed the machine, "Back in the sky in no time."

Qarnan slid out and sat up, wiping his face with a rag while Ash looked him over. "…Zorian, right?" Qarnan nodded. "That cataclysm that fractured the whole planet…you saing that was you?"

Qarnan shrugged, "Place was gettin' a little chummy for my liking."

Ash nodded dubiously, then glanced about the hangar. "So what's all this? Remnants?"

"Psh, frock no; nothin on Zorak worth takin'. This here's all mine, even made a few of 'em myself."

Ash glanced toward the massive antiquated cannon. "That thing?"

Qarnan followed his eye line and grinned excitedly, "What, the Man Cannon? Hell yeah."

"I have to guess what it does?"

"Well, ya don't seem 'specially dim, so…"

Ash nodded and looked him over again. "So this is you? This is all you are? Stuff? Earth junk, guns made of tape and chewing gum and a cannon you'll never need?"

"Never need?! Ya lack imagination, Sheriff!" Qarnan shot up and beamed at the weapon. "Only way worth goin' at sum'n is head on — the Man Cannon's a testament ta that."

"Maybe if you're not smart enough for anything else."

Qarnan turned on a heel and cocked his head at Ash. "The hell you say, demon baby?"

Ash chuckled and risked a step closer. "You don't seem especially dim either. You know the world around you isn't made for folk as strong as us. To you and me it might as well be made of paper; it doesn't take much to break, so why live like a wrecking ball? It's overkill, I think — maybe even overcompensation."

Qarnan stomped closer as well, "You wanna see a wreckin' ball? I'll show ya what a—" BROOOONK, the ship jolted to one side, tools and weapons sailed off the racks and the crates flooded across the floor. Ash fell and slid with them, while Qarnan grabbed the Valkyrie for stability. "What the frock?!"

Docking cables. Ash knew that much. Whatever hit them, it held them in place with docking cables.

He followed Qarnan as the bounty hunter bounded into the bridge. Various sensors and viewscreens broadcast red alerts, showing docking cables ensnaring the Kurgan and forcing it towards a larger spacecraft. They saw it through the viewport, and Ash stared in confusion.

The Dreadnaught was an angular, scythe shape with rows of jagged, downward-facing plates. The outer armor most caught his eye — it was Entroph, but the foundation didn’t match any of their warships. Ash wracked his brain, sifting through the thousands of hours he spent studying Cindreth’s naval forces, but this design was never among them. Setting aside his Arleth education, he scrubbed through his memories living on the frontier, and it dawned on him: it was an Orovian Vulture, a resource extraction ship designed from the ground-up to salvage wreckage and convert it into war material, but it was constructed out of Cindreth metals. He even saw the bulky mass of an Inferni Drive atop the aft, and rows of Brimstone cannons down its long body.

Ash chewed on his cheek. Entrophs or Orovians, he could handle. What was this hybrid nonsense? The two factions never worked together; Orovian mercenaries didn’t work for ‘gods’ and the Entrophs were never able to conquer them, yet here before him floated a product of both worlds.

“Huh,” was all he managed. If this was his sister's ride, she at least didn't seem affiliated with Cindreth, even if she brought its aesthetics with her.

Qarnan didn't seem taken aback by the look of the ship, instead he hopped into the command console — a beat up leather chair surrounded by vintage control panels. He grabbed an old CB radio receiver and clicked it on. "Pretty sure Papa Sledge said he'd come ta you, yer highness."

No response.

Ash sighed with exasperation. "You didn't seriously take her at her word, did you? The Entroph Priestess??" Qarnan ignored him and flipped various switches on the command panels. Ash scoffed, "How's that 'head on' thing working out for you?" Qarnan again said nothing as the Dreadnaught's jagged hangar doors peeled open. "Alright, look, I think you're smart enough to see what's—"

Qarnan thumbed a button on his gauntlet, Ash's cuffs surged with electricity. Taking him by surprise, he convulsed and fell over.