The crabs advanced with the darkness, and Vanbrook turned and started limping away. Hrake lumbered towards him.
“Yeah, yeah, you pick me up,” said Vanbrook, surrendering himself to the mild humiliation. They bounced along, moving with frustrating slowness as the low gravity hampered their ability to build momentum. The crabs skittered along efficiently, their legs grasping the ground and pulling them forward.
Hrake managed to stay ahead of the darkness, but not by much. Some time later, they approached the far end of the prairie, and saw a potential escape route in the form of another cave. However, as they approached, they could see the ghostly white silhouettes of another group of crabs gathered in the opening.
“Set me down,” said Vanbrook, his voice thick with determination. “We fight it out from here.” Then, over the comms, “Alright, guys, it's now or never!”
The prairie was lit up and crabs began exploding into pieces as Vanbrook and Hrake began their last-ditch effort to fight off the crabs.
***
Raivyn and the others abandoned the climbing gear at the mouth of the cave Vanbrook and Hrake had disappeared into, throwing caution to the wind and running full-tilt towards the shuttle. They were about half way when Reclan looked over her shoulder to see the ice raptor slinking back onto the shore.
“We might have a problem, guys,” said Reclan as she bounced along the moon’s icy surface.
D’Jarric turned to see what she was referring to, and saw the raptor shake the icy water from its oily feathers and take flight, hungry eyes locked on Talon Squad. He powered up a glowing golden fist and launched a bolt of energy at the bird. The bolt clipped one of the raptor’s wings, causing it to squawk out in anger, snapping its long, toothed beak towards D’Jarric.
“Go on ahead, I’ll deal with the bird,” called D’Jarric.
Trusting the Solaran’s instincts, the others obeyed. Before long they’d made it to the shuttle. Raivyn, the last one inside, slammed the emergency ramp closure button as Reclan all but dove into the pilot’s seat. Doc and Raivyn held on to the closest object that was bolted down as the shuttle lifted off.
“Alright, guys,” came Vanbrook’s voice over the comms, “it’s now or never!”
***
Down below, Vanbrook and Hrake found themselves plunged into darkness, their flashlights once again their only light source. Vanbrook slashed at the crabs with his saber, fending off the claws as best as he could. Hrake was swinging his hammer in wide arcs, clearing away crabs at a tremendous rate. Unfortunately, this was proving unsustainable as Hrake was swamped by the sheer numbers. A crab that had snuck up behind Vanbrook took his ankle in a mighty pincer and squeezed, causing Vanbrook to cry out in pain.
A blast from above was followed by a shower of mist and fine shards of ice, as well as a sudden illumination. Spooked by the noise and light, the crabs scattered, leaving Vanbrook and Hrake to stare up at the sun-like brilliance of the shuttle’s floodlights.
“There wasn’t a hole in the ice big enough,” said Reclan over the comms, “so we made one.”
Vanbrook grinned and hobbled towards the shuttle, his ankle now all the worse for the crab’s vicious pinch. Raivyn helped them up the ramp and slammed the emergency closure button again when everyone was clear.
“Now we have to go rescue D’Jarric,” said Raivyn.
“What’s wrong with D’Jarric?” asked Vanbrook, bemused despite himself.
“Your bird friend is back,” said Reclan. Vanbrook shook his head grimly.
As the shuttle burst back out of the ice, D'Jarric was in the heat of battle with the raptor. The Solaran had managed to fend off the beast by slinging bolts at it, but the raptor was undeterred. It was determined to make a meal out of the strange glowing creature that harassed it with glowing bolts, and it made a dive to grab him with its sharp talons. Watching the claws grow larger and larger in his vision, D'Jarric held back until the raptor was only feet away, then punched out a double-fisted burst of energy. The bolt burned through the bird's chest and dissipated into the atmosphere.
D'Jarric stepped aside as the raptor's carcass slammed into the ice and slid to a stop, the massive exit wound smoldering as it lay still on the ground.
Vanbrook whistled. "Guess he doesn't need help."
***
Crush strode with pride across the deck of the Liberty, walking up to Captains Tank and Hacksaw.
"Gentlemen, how goes the privateering?" she asked, feeling unusually chipper.
"Fantastically, Admiral," answered Hacksaw. "Since we collected the bounty on your Krauqian friend and cleared up the Wabuluban's piracy issue, we've had more requests for aid than we can answer. Our fleet of captured ships is growing faster than our crew, which is a problem, but a good one, as problems go.
"However, I've gotten word from an old contact of mine about a disaffected group of mining robots who may be interested in joining the Fleet."
"Oh?" asked Crush, interested.
"Yes. They work for a state-run asteroid mining company in the People's Interstellar Co-op. The PIC is a small nation that's nominally part of the IGC community, though they're a bit of a pariah state. The Robots have the right to quit and leave by IGC standards but the Co-op is trying to bully them into staying."
"And what?" asked Crush curiously. "We're expected to help them shoot their way out?"
"No, no," said Hacksaw, shaking his head. "But the Robots have accrued quite a bit of debt under the PIC, and that’s what’s being leveraged against them. With our resources, we could help provide a more diplomatic solution."
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"But is shooting our way out totally off the table?" asked Tank. Hacksaw turned to his fellow captain and cocked his head to the side.
"We'll do everything we can to avoid it," said Crush definitively. "Asteroid miners make good spacers, and we could use a few. Captain Hacksaw, let's make our way to PIC territory, I'd certainly like to see what we can work out."
***
Jasken sat in his office, waiting for Skritka to make his weekly check-in. Faster than light, nearly instantaneous communication was possible thanks to ripmed technology, but it was also extremely energy intensive. Communications on deep space missions like this one were kept short, prompt and regular.
The Admiral was happy to hear that everything had worked out on the moon’s surface, but had considered pulling the team back while they waited for the fleet’s shields to regenerate. Talon Squad had protested, and Raivyn argued that exploration along the way was the only way to justify the expedition if the Cornucopia Cluster turned out to be a myth. Jasken relented.
Dr. Britkrup was fascinated by the Squad’s description of the ice-domed prairie, and the biological team was busy pouring over the new species that had been documented. Jasken had sent Drixen down in the second shuttle to retrieve the specimens. It was something akin to a waste to send such a talented pilot on such a routine errand, but it was either that or have him sit around the Wingspan waiting on a more dire mission that would hopefully never come anyway.
Jasken’s musings were interrupted as the expected call came through.
“Admiral,” said Skritka. “Good to see you. How are things going?”
“Prime Minister Skritka, good to see you as well. Things are going well. Hru14NN0.93 was inhospitable, as anticipated, but its moon, Hru14NN0.93m1, is an icy but livable world. There is significant and dangerous non-sapient life.”
“Do we have names for these worlds yet?” asked the Prime Minister, his face souring at the mere thought of having to repeatedly refer to “Hru14NN0.93m1” in his reports and statements.
“The planet has been designated Grisseon and the moon Platnon,” said Jasken. “We doubt at this point they will serve as more than a rest stop for journeys further out. Likely, a space station orbiting Grisseon will be the most development seen out here.”
“Sounds reasonable,” said Skritka, nodding his head. “How is Hrake working out?”
“So far, so good,” said Jasken with a sigh. “He’s picking up the language very quickly. I believe he’s just as smart as he is tough, and he single handedly killed a ten-foot acid-spewing monster.”
Skritka nodded. “Any potential planets identified as a next stop yet?”
“No, not yet,” answered Jasken. “A few planets have been spotted, but of course they’re mostly gas giants. We’re hoping to find something more hospitable. How are things progressing with Hruduk?”
“Fairly well,” replied Skritka. “The old king still presents the greatest problem, but given that he holds no sovereign territory, he’s not considered a stakeholder by IGC so he can’t really stop us from moving forward on a satellite network. The other leaders all seem open to the idea.”
“And what about the other matter I requested you look into for me?” asked Jasken cautiously.
Skritka sighed. “I’m sorry, Jasken, but there’s been no news about the murder. Darvik has disappeared. There’s a warrant and a bounty out on him, but no leads. That’s as much as I know.”
Jasken smoothed his mustache. “Thank you for the update, all the same. I know it’s not a priority.”
Skritka shook his head. “No, but I know Specialist Vanbrook would appreciate knowing Darvik has been brought to justice. If he is, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Thank you, Prime Minister,” said Jasken.
“Providence shine on your expedition, Admiral,” said Skrita.
Jasken nodded. “And you as well, Prime Minister.”
***
Back on Kirakna, Darvik was lying in Hoon-Kra’s bed, resting. At first he had resisted the temptation to use the cult leader’s room while he was away, but it was the only bed in the whole rotting house that didn’t make him itch. A knock came at the door.
He stumbled to the door, pistol in hand. “Who is it?”
“The beasts are our masters,” came the reply.
Darvik snorted. The code was right, so he tucked the pistol in his belt and opened the door. The figure who greeted him wore a deep hood, and held out a basket full of groceries.
“Our High Priest sends his regards,” hissed the hooded figure. “He will return shortly. Be ready.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll pack up all my stuff,” said Darvik, looking around at the distinct lack of stuff in the crumbling mansion. “And let’s get one thing straight, I work for the guy, I don’t worship him. He’s not my High Priest.”
The hooded figure didn’t respond, simply turning away and slinking back into the night.
Darvik looked in the basket and was happy to see that along with the minimal supply of food there was a bottle of Griffonian rum.
“Finally,” he said, heading for Hoon-Kra’s study. “Something worth drinking.”
***
Vanbrook stretched in the morning sun. Well, the post-eclipse sun. Though a detailed study of the moon’s orbit would need to be made, it appeared that the northern hemisphere got sun for most of the day all year long, but it passed behind the planet regularly, creating an odd facsimile of a day-night cycle.
He winced as he stepped over to the command tent, irritating his sore ankle. He poured himself some rakka and nodded to Raivyn, who was already awake and writing up preliminary reports on their findings so far.
Further exploration had revealed that ice caverns like the one Vanbrook and Hrake had stumbled into were fairly common across the surface of the moon, but there were no obvious resources on either Grisseon or Platnon that would affect galactic trade, aside from the possibility of installing a desalination plant on Platnon complemented by a watering station in orbit.
"Anything new from up top?" asked Vanbrook.
"Yeah, actually," said Raivyn, not even looking up from her work. "Drixen's on his way down with Dr. Britkrup. Her curiosity finally overpowered her fear. She's not bringing any assistants this time, though. She's taking the loss on Hruduk pretty hard."
"Glad she's sticking to it," said Vanbrook, with an emphatic nod. "I sorta developed a soft spot for her back on Hruduk."
Raivyn chuckled. "Yeah, Dr. Trembi's coming along as well."
"Oh, that doesn't work for me," said Vanbrook, cringing.
"Really?" asked Raivyn, raising her eyebrow. "She seems nice enough."
Reclan walked into the tent, sleepily rubbing at her eyes and pouring herself a cup of rakka.
"That's what she wants you to think," said Vanbrook coolly.
"Oh, you courted her, didn't you?" said Raivyn, remembering.
"Briefly!” cried Vanbrook defensively. “A long time ago. It- uh- didn’t go well.”
“You called her old in front of a crowd at your cousin’s wedding, you mean,” said Reclan as she pulled up a stool.
Raivyn looked at Vanbrook accusingly.
He threw up his hands dramatically. “We were playing some dumb ‘how well do you know your date’ game at the reception. One of the questions was about age, and I said, and I quote ‘Oh, I didn’t realize how old you were.’ That’s not the same as calling someone old!”
“Yes it is,” said Raivyn and Reclan in unison.
“Well, I didn’t mean it that way!” said Vanbrook.
Raivyn rolled her eyes and smiled, taking another sip.
“Talon Squad, this is Textbook, come in,” said a voice over the comms.
“Well I guess we both get to see an old flame, anyway,” said Vanbrook smugly.
Raivyn glared daggers at Vanbrook as she answered the comm.
“This is Talon Squad, what’s up?” she said.
“I’m not sure,” said Drixen. “Something showed up on the horizon and it seems to be making course to intersect. Scanners seem to indicate it’s organic, or at least not metal. How big are those raptor things, exactly?”