Eyes snapping open suddenly, Cynop found himself in a blank, white room. He looked around to see Brift and a few other crew members, and saw they were all chained to the wall by their ankles. He turned his head around to check, and, sure enough, there were chains on his ankles as well. The chains were short and attached low enough on the wall that the prisoners could either lie, face down, like Cynop had been when he awoke, or stand upright, back to the wall. He tried to squat down, but found that there wasn't enough room between himself and the wall to do so comfortably.
“Alright,” he said, breaking the silence. The others nearly jumped at the noise, faces turning towards him with mixed expressions of fear, despair, and frustration. He swallowed hard. “What do we know?”
Silence reigned for what may have been ten seconds or a lifetime.
“You know as much as we do, Captain,” said Brift. “Just woke up ourselves.”
“No one else remembers what happened either, then?” asked Cynop. “After we were swallowed by the… the ship?”
Brift shook his head. “The door closed, it got dark, we woke up here.”
Cynop nodded. “And the others?”
He looked around at the silent sailors who shared his cell. There were twelve of them. Less than half of the crew of the Dart.
“We- we hope in a similar cell,” said Brift. “We figure that's the best case scenario.”
Cynop nodded again, but this time remained silent.
***
Raivyn walked into Hunt's office, Lawbine following close behind. The Admiral looked up from his desk.
“Raivyn. Lawbine. Come in,” he said. “And close the door behind you.”
Lawbine closed the door as ordered and the two settled into the office.
“First off, I wanted you to know that the Drihn is currently involved in a skirmish with a small band of Ramshackle pirates. Their chances look good but I thought you should be aware.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” said Raivyn. “Van and the others can handle themselves, but all the same I'm sorry not to be there with them.”
“Of course,” said Hunt with a nod. “The other issue is less of an emergency but more sensitive. Do you remember Glinya, our wasp rider friend?”
“Yes, defected from the Astralbians,” said Raivyn. “She proved to be a big help in the final battle over Gateway.”
“That's the one,” said Hunt. “She sent us a coded message. Her cover is blown and she's trying to make it to Code-enforced territory with some refugees from an Astralbian-controlled world called Shumriven.”
“Teltons?” asked Lawbine. “I've known a couple. I'm not surprised they're bucking Astralbian control. They're an ornery bunch.”
“Then they'll fit in with the Republic just fine, if they decide to settle there. Our goal is to rendezvous with the refugee ship on a planet that recognizes the International Galactic Code.”
“Do we have a planet in mind?” asked Raivyn.
“Yes, and, thankfully, it's Gateway,” answered Hunt. “They've been going out of their way dodging Astralbian patrols, so that's the closest world.”
“And you think Talon Squad might have a role to play in the operation?” asked Raivyn.
“We’ll see how it shakes out, but I wanted to make sure you were in the loop on this one. We should be arriving on Gateway within the week, and we should know more by then.”
***
Crush sat by a small patch of dirt in a large clearing behind King Hua and Queen Shiu’s palace, her personal star tree rooted to the ground before her. The palace had literally blossomed under Yrinla’s care, the elderly Astralbian being the first tree priestess, or tree shaper, as the native Astralbians called it, to tend to it in countless years. The refugees who had fled from the collapsing Astralbian Empire included a number of tree priests, and she had put them to work rebuilding and reshaping it. Crush admired the reverence and craft with which the priests were working, and looked down with some frustration at her own project.
The tree had a number of strange growths jutting out in seemingly random directions, and it certainly wasn't taking the shape she envisioned for it. Yrinla assured her she was making excellent progress, especially considering she was the first non-Astralbian tree shaper in eons, if not the first ever.
Determined, she set her hand on one of the tree's misshapen protrusions and sent T-waves into it, opening a line of communication. The bulk of the work was best done from within the tree, interfacing with it via the control panel, but Yrinla had told her to fine-tune structures directly.
Grow, she thought, pressing the idea into the tree. There was resistance at first. The tree had a natural way of growing and was unwilling to change course without a fight. Pressing against the tree's mindless, instinct-driven will with her own, she felt it respond, beginning to redirect nutrients to the outgrowth. It would be hours before any measurable growth occurred, though the time would be shortened due to the nutrient-dense soil of Cradle. She shook her head.
“You wanted to see me, Admiral?” asked a voice from behind her. She turned to see Hacksaw.
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“Captain,” she said in greeting. “Yes. I wanted to talk with you.”
“Of course,” he replied. “About what?”
He hid it well, but Crush could sense his nervousness. Everyone had been this way around her since she'd reawoken in her new form. She was alien to her own kind and something akin to a demigod to the Astralbians. Hacksaw had a bit more reason than most to be nervous, though.
“Back at Gateway, when we defeated Grim,” began Crush. She noted that Hacksaw winced at the name. “You considered betraying me to him.” He looked to the ground in shame. “What stopped you?”
He raised his head and looked her in the eye. “All my life I've leaned on the idea of luck to make my decisions. Hedged my bets, looked for opportunities, hoped I backed the right horse so to speak. Choosing Grim over you was just about weighing the odds. He was a comfortable, familiar bet. But for some reason, I decided I needed to trust you even though I couldn't understand you. Put my money on the dark horse and let it ride. I think it's what the biological races call ‘faith,’ Admiral.”
Crush nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate it, Hacksaw, I do. But I don't know if you should put too much faith in me if you're still looking for results, not ideals. While I'm still discovering my place in the universe, I'm confident it's not as a god.”
Hacksaw shrugged. “I'm in this for the long haul, now, Admiral. You may not be among the gods, but I suspect there's at least one watching over you.”
“That just may be, Captain,” said Crush. She turned to him warmly. “But for the moment, I'm happy to have you at my side. You're free to go back to your duties. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue losing an argument with a tree.”
Hacksaw was relieved. That was the end of it, then. “Thank you, Admiral.” He turned and left Crush to her work.
***
The Ramshackle Collective captain adjusted his grip on his rusty cutlass. The attack had gone well enough so far, and he hoped his luck would hold out. All three ships had managed to close in on the target ship without being destroyed, and the boarding skiffs were maneuvering into place with little trouble. Grounding wires made sure any EM countermeasures like an electrified hull would be ineffective, and combat engineering crews were getting ready to torch through the two major airlock doors.
That’s when the captain’s luck changed. The airlock doors flew open, and massive, armored warriors stepped out, swinging hammers with brutal strength. The cargo hatch opened as well, and four smaller figures blasted out.
Flying out of the Drihn’s cargo hatch, Vanbrook led Talon Squad’s assault on what appeared to be the pirate’s flagship. Flying in zig-zagging patterns, they easily avoided the ship’s clumsy defenses and landed on the open metal decks, mag-boots activating and holding them in place.
Saber already drawn, Vanbrook energized the blade with a buzzing orange glow, deflected a wildly-swung ax and brought his revolver up to fire a counter attack into the Robot pirate who’d attacked him. Reclan swung her plasma cutter in a vicious arc and decapitated another pirate, leaving them blinded and firing a minigun wildly, tearing up the deck and forcing friend and foe alike to dive out of the way. D’Jarric punched out a bolt of energy from glowing, golden fists and blasted the out-of-control gunner out into the aether. Doc played counter-sniper, using his scoped rifle to take out sharpshooters stationed in the crow’s nests above them.
The entire force of the pirates converged on Talon Squad, and Vanbrook found himself deflecting blows with his saber and energy buckler more often than he was on the attack. They were cornered at the prow of the ship, and the fight was beginning to swing against them now that the surprise element was wearing off.
“Wish you were here, buddy,” said Vanbrook to Hrake over the comms.
“As do I, friend,” answered the captain. “But my place is on the bridge now, for better or worse. My crew has defeated the boarding parties and are beginning to take their skiffs back to the Ramshackle ships, so you will have aid momentarily.”
“That’d be good!” exclaimed Vanbrook, slashing down another opponent.
The desperate pirates had nothing to lose, and were prepared to go down fighting. A group rushed Reclan, bogging down her attacks and forcing her to back up until she ran into Doc. Just as Vanbrook was certain they were going to start taking casualties, a huge form leapt over the prow, clearing Talon Squad and bringing a swift yet brutal hammer down on the pirates. Four additional Hrudukite sailors followed and the tide shifted once again. Vanbrook launched himself back into the fray, taking the fight to the twice-ambushed soldiers.
A robot with a wide brimmed hat and gold-trimmed red overcoat strode over the deck towards Vanbrook, brandishing a cutlass and glaring at him with crimson eyes. It was obvious that this must be the captain. In addition to his slightly nicer attire, there was an arrogance to his bearing that was unmistakable. Vanbrook grinned and stepped forward, saber raised to meet his opponent.
In one smooth motion he unlocked his mag-boots, boosted himself onto the railing on the edge of the ship and locked his boots onto it, meeting his enemy from higher ground. The captain matched his stunt and the two crossed swords as they walked along the narrow beam of the railing.
The enraged captain, knowing his plan had failed and his fate was sealed, held nothing back, slashing viciously at every opportunity and using his armored metal arms to deflect Vanbrook’s energized saber when necessary. This cost him some deep gashes along his forearms but earned him an opening, and he slashed Vanbrook across the chest. The swashbuckler leapt back, dodging the worst of the blow, but the blue jumpsuit he wore was torn open and his blood began to bubble out from the deep gash he’d received across his chest. The self-healing suit oozed a puddle of gel out from the gash in the material, which quickly set up, staunching the bleeding and sealing the suit once more.
Aggravated by the minimal damage his attack had managed to inflict, the captain charged in recklessly once again. Vanbrook was ready for the tactic this time, and tweaked his own. When the captain raised an arm to block a strike, he redirected his blade, aiming for the weaker joints rather than the armored forearm. He struck the captain’s elbow with the precision of a well-trained duelist, severing the limb in two. The captain roared into the aether and slashed viciously at Vanbrook’s chest, hoping to worsen the wound he’d already inflicted. Instead, Vanbrook leapt up and back, his boosters keeping him out of the blade’s arc, and he slashed downwards, severing the captain’s sword hand at the wrist before boosting back towards the rail and the captain, running his opponent through with his saber.
He kicked the lifeless Robot off the railing and out into the aether, then stepped down onto the deck to take stock of the situation. A couple of robots had barricaded themselves in the stairway that led to the the lower decks and were directing heavy fire at Reclan, D’Jarric, Doc, and the Hrudukite sailors, but as Vanbrook watched Reclan directed a couple of her drones into the stairwell, harassing them with electrical attacks, distracting them enough that one of the Hrudukites was able to rush the stairwell and quickly dispatch them.
“That takes care of this ship, I believe,” said Vanbrook over his comms. “We’ll have to do a sweep to make sure no one else is aboard, but the fighting’s done. How goes it on the other ships?”
“Equally well,” answered Hrake happily. “Yours was the most heavily defended. Do your sweep and then return to the Drihn. We will land on Gateway shortly and celebrate the ship’s first victory.”