Vindril stared at the box that was in front of him, the silence that had been reigning supreme in that devastated room broken only by the occasional gunfire that was coming from the outside. None had the strength to utter even a single word. Not even him, who was usually pretty easy-going and unbothered by…pretty much anything, was able to speak.

It wasn’t the box in itself that had any kind of superpower to steal away their voice. They just couldn’t believe what was right in front of their eyes.

Right inside the box, beyond the thick layer of ice-covered crystalline panel that had lit up the moment Vindril had touched the cold surface of it, there was a woman with skin as clear as the moons of Tsumenor, a planet in the Istreom Kingdom. Her face, a perfect combination of delicate facial features and sheer determination, was staring right ahead with her eyes closed. A series of numbers and information about her general condition was displayed right at the button of said screen. However, it was in a language he didn’t know. And by the silence that was coming from Ar, they too had no idea of what was said in those strange symbols.

“…That…was not what I was expecting to find.” said Vindril, who was still shocked at the whole thing. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Is she dead?”

“No.” answered Ar. Their head was firmly planted towards the face of that woman. Staring. Pondering. “They’re not.”

“Then let’s break her out of-”

Vindril didn’t even manage to finish that sentence before Ar pointed an armed gun at his head. Out of habit, he did same. “You won’t do anything like that.”

“…Why? Do you know her?”

“No. That’s not the case.”

“Then what the fuck is going on?” he demanded annoyed. Probably not the smartest approach, but he didn’t care. He had enough of all those mysteries and unanswered questions that had been assaulting him since months a. Now he was going to get some answers. One way, or another. “Talk to me. You know you can trust me. I’ve always stood by your side, even when I knew for certain that you’ve kept for yourself some piece of information. Even now, when you’re pointing a gun right at my head, I’m still reluctant to act. Not that I won’t, mind you. If I’ve to kill you in order to come out of this alive, I will, no matter how much I don’t want to.”

Ar sighed. Then they removed the gun from his head, aiming it towards the ground. “You seem to have misunderstood. I did not point a gun at you because I’m betraying you, or because I’m having second thoughts. I pointed it because you cannot open it.”

Vindril arched his brows. “I know that there aren’t any visible opening mechanism, but there must be a way to-

“You mustn’t. This is a capsule of cryo-stasis. If you were to open it without following the proper methods, you’ll end up killing her.”

“Killing her?” he asked surprised. That certainly wasn’t his intention. Not at all.

“Anyway, it’s pointless to discuss any of this here. Now that we’ve secured it, we must find a way to transport this back to your ship. Any ideas?”

“We should think of a way to deal with those outside. They will eventually find us, one way or another.”

“…I know.”

“Shit. This thing is becoming more complex by the minute. Damn it all.”

“It’s too late now to regret getting involved in this mess. We can only move forward now.”

“And how the hell are we supposed to move at all?” he asked, a bit annoyed at the absurdity of the situation. He just couldn’t find the so-called silver lining in what he could already tell was going to be a giant mess to get out of. “If we go back where came from, we’re fucked. If try to move forward, we’re fucked. And, if we manage to survive against all this shit by some enormous stroke of luck, we’re fucked anyways. How in the hell are we supposed to carry out this sleeping princess without having to fight against some dangerous fuckers that are ready to kill us?”

“We’ll think of something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t fucking know! But we’ll manage somehow.”

Vindril looked shocked. Not because the palpable tension that was in the air was slowly getting to him. No. He looked like that because that was the first, or maybe the second time he had ever heard Ar speak like that. It seemed that, unlike he had initially thought, Ar too was being affected by all of it.

Why was the universe always trying its very best to screw him over? What in the hell had he ever done to deserve such bullshit treatment? The first he had thought hard about his life, he got so depressed about that it took many days and much willpower to find the exit from the dark hole he had gotten himself into. Now, much older than his child self, he just accepted the harsh reality that some people are just born unlucky. That, or he was cursed. And he didn’t believe in any of those supernatural things, so that only left one explanation.

Then again, if he didn’t believe in curses and all those things that were common in all cultures all around the galaxy, it was almost hypocritical to believe in luck. He knew how thin the line that separated the two was. After all, luck was one of those things that were both sought out and despised at the same time. Some foolish people even tried to escape their unluck by appeasing the endless pantheon of gods and goddess that existed in the vast scope of the galaxy by offering them some kind of offering; usually something precious. It was all nonsense to him, of course. Luck, or the lack therefore, wasn’t something that could be changed in any way. The sheer notion that a simple offering to some kind of divine entity was going to change that had always felt like venom to him.

Damned them and their nonsensical believes. He had grown up all alone, without asking for anybody’s help, hopping around from space ship to space ship just to survive. He could still clearly remember the times, that had been few in numbers thankfully, where he hadn’t managed to earn enough to eat. And they had the audacity to believe that divine intervention was going to change their fate? Screw them.

Even now, with the real possibility of dying that was seemingly hovering around the corner, he wasn’t going to ask for divine intervention to save him. No. He was going to board his ship and live his dream, dammit! And if he had to damn so fuckers to an early grave in order to do so, than damn it that was what he was going to do.

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Without giving in to those looming sensations, Vindril popped in a new magazine into his beloved gun, checking that everything was working as it should. There was a renowned piece of it, small enough that could be a pain in the ass to fix, that was prone to…break beyond repair. It was the stabilizer. The gun would have maintained its functionality, meaning it would have still maintained its ability to fire off. But in doing so, the only thing that could have been hit was an enormous target. Even Vindril, who knew how to maintenance, and in some small cases modify his weapon, knew how useless was a gun that had its stabilizer broken. Only a fool, or someone desperate enough, would have even attempted to fire off such a thing. After all, it was almost impossible to fire off precise shots in those kinds of conditions. So better hope that nothing would break, or he didn’t know what he was going to do.

When everything was ready, he briefly looked around the room, trying his best to set up a sort of barricade. Steps, heavy and secure, had begun to resonate near the room they were staying in. Ar also seemed to be hearing the same thing, as they quickly took out another grenade from their belt, only to take cover behind a piece of rubble big enough to provide it. It seemed that they just had to force their way out, after all.

//////

A bullet came flying by without any kind of warning, hitting some rabble behind Vindril. He didn’t even need to turn around in order to know how dead he would have been if that thing had it hit him dead on. Whoever had just shot that thing was certainly using a thermal gun, much like his own. It was evident by the damaged, and practically molten, devastation it had left in its wake. However, it was also evidently of a bigger calibre by the redounding sound it enveloped the whole room in. That was surely going to pose a problem. How big, he couldn’t tell.

After a couple of seconds, when the shot’s sound had finally died down, a man’s voice called out to them. It wasn’t a voice Vindril immediately recognized, as he had not conversed very much, if any at all, with the man it belonged to; but after a quick mental shake down to get the wheel spinning, he put all the pieces of the puzzle together. That was surely the man with raven hairs. The one that had kind of always remined quiet. “You’re surrounded. It’s useless to resist. I promise we’ll make it quick.”

“Hah! How kind of you.” said Vindril, as his eyes scanned all around him to try and locate the exact location that shot had been fired from. “Truly, you’re so kind I cannot even believe my ears. Pity that you’re trying to kill me, or you would have been eligible to be considered for sainthood.”

“No small talk.” said the man menacingly. “Listen, you’ve got two choices: you either come out this instant and I’ll make it quick for you, the both of you. Or we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way. The choice is yours.”

“I fail to realize what’s the difference in that. Honestly, you’re not giving me much of a choice.”

“Choose, Vindril. Or I’ll do it for you.”

“I guess I should have seen it coming from you. The quiet ones are always the ones that will screw others over.”

Vindril was now trying his best to buy him and Ar some time to come up with…he didn’t even know how many rounds he had left in his gun, let alone the combat knowledge to devise a plan to escape. What the hell were the supposed to do in that kind of fucked up situation?

A shot, this time much closer to his head, came flying by, hitting the nearby console and creating a hole with molten ridges. Shit! That was too close. That was waaay to close!

He crouched down, trying to find better coverage behind the pile of rabble that was sort of acting as his shield. It was all useless, of course. Even if his mind was currently occupied with coming up with a viable solution to all his problems, he wasn’t that occupied to have forgotten the destructive power thermal guns had. If a molten piece of metal had struck anywhere near the place he was hiding, nothing would have survived such condensed forces. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit more secure than being out in the open. At least that way there was an almost inexistent chance that he could survive.

…What a consolation…

Vindril shook his head, clearing it from such distraction and utterly useless thought. If he wanted to live, he had to remain focused on the task at hand: finding a way to deal with those fuckers, one way or another.

He looked around studying the room around him, his ears always perked up to perceive the next shot he was sure would come. At a first glance, there were many things or objects that had broke down during the last confrontation that had took place just minutes prior. But nothing seemed to be useful in creating a distraction. Only useless things were scattered all around him.

“Care to tell me how much had the Empire promised you?” suddenly asked Ar, who was rummaging through their possession at a frantic speed. Bullets, magazines both full and empty, a single grenade were hitting the damaged floor underneath them. “I bet it’s a pretty hefty sum, isn’t it? But I wonder if you’re going to share any of that with those around you. I wouldn’t, were I you.”

Vindril blinked. “…What the hell are you doing?” he asked whispering. But he was utterly ignored.

“…Silence, you walking piece of metal. I’m not going to let myself be dragged into any what you’re doing. Honestly, I’m pretty pissed with you. What the hell have you done to piss off the Empire like that? Not that I care in the least. I just would have liked to avoid fighting you. That piece of junk you’re wearing is going to be a problem.”

“Glad to be a problem for you.”

The man suddenly laughed maniacally. “Ahhh. You’re such an asshole. I’m glad to have received this task. I’m going to enjoy watching you die.”

“Though luck.” Ar said. Their hands were now grasping the grenade, clearly tampering with it. For what reason, Vindril had no clue at all. It wasn’t like one could simply modify the inner mechanisms of said piece of explosive weapon without the proper knowledge, settings, or even tools, right?...Right? “This armor can even deflect laser guns. You’re never going to get past that.”

“…I wouldn’t be so sure…”

Vindril was now intrigued. What the hell could a man like that possess to cause even a small scratch in what had all the makings of an impenetrable defence? The answer was in his hand.

“You see, when I have all this power at my disposal, even an armor like that isn’t going to be a problem. You know what this is, right? Go on. tell them, Vindril. Tell your metallic friend what I’m currently holding in my hand.”

The moment Vindril really realized what the man was wielding, he winced. There was no doubt. That small metallic sphere, so shiny it seemed to be made of glass, held enough power to level a building to the ground. “…That’s an Ion bomb.”

Leaving aside the sheer complexity of manufacturing something so destructive in such a pocket format, it was almost impossible to travel with something like that. One of the laws that was currently being empowered through the galaxy, no government excluded, stated that Ion bombs were under strict regulations. One couldn’t simply go to the local arm dealer to buy one. Complex and time-consuming procedures were put in place to prevent even a single bomb from leaving the Creator's laboratories and ending up in unauthorized hands. Also, how had he managed to get through the customs? The planetary station that orbited around Keelo Prime wasn’t certainly the most secure in the galaxy. But there was no way that something like an Ion bomb had cleared it. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Exactly!” he yelled happily. It was clear he was excited about it. A sentiment that wasn’t clearly shared by his companions, who were glancing around nervously, as if they didn’t even want to be there.

It was during this little inspection that Vindril also realized something else. Right beside that man, with his brown eyes that were staring right at inside Vindril’s hazel ones, there was Sorin. He was standing there motionless, looking like one of those ancient civilization statues that were exhibited at the historical museums. He winced a little, feeling like he had been betrayed by a close friend. How? How could Sorin do something as vile as that? And here he had invited him to team up. Just remembering that was enough to make him almost gag. If there was one thing he would never stomach, that were traitors. And while he couldn’t really classify him as such, he could almost certainly feel betrayed, if not literally, than figuratively. That…damned bastard…