The trio drifted for hours while chaos reigned all around them. Gideon had reached out and destroyed every power plant within reach as they made their way to the planet, though if they reached the surface Persephone’s impact would be far worse. Between the two of them, they could render Ipqi lifeless in a matter of days. And if the Tu’udh’hizh’ak failed to clamp down in time and establish a quarantine, the plague could spread across the entire sector.

Samara hoped their last stand had been as memorable and epic as they’d imagined, but it was more likely they were gunned down before ever getting the chance.

As they neared the docks the need to choose a target ship grew more pressing. One of the three had lit off and disappeared soon after Gideon started working his magic, narrowing their options, but that still left two possibilities. She keyed her mic and queried, “You got anything, Xeno?”

“I’m not picking anything up on Bravo,” he informed her, “but I am reading some activity with Charlie.”

“We should head for Bravo then,” Kalypso decided. “Better chance of not being spotted.”

“You agree?” she asked, as Xeno took a moment to consider his answer.

“I’ll admit that Bravo appears to be the safer choice, but there could be several reasons the ship is not manned,” he pointed out, “many of which would be bad for us.”

“She might be down for maintenance,” Samara slowly nodded. “Or under construction.”

“Those are both possibilities,” Xeno agreed, “though in each of those cases I’d expect at least some workers to be present. It is also conceivable there is no reactor mass on board, or consumables. We would not get far if that were the case.”

“It sounds like you think Charlie is the better choice,” Kalypso speculated.

“Perhaps, but evicting the crew with just the three of us is a dangerous proposition.”

Samara eyeballed the two vessels and decided. “Bravo is closer, so we’ll head there first.”

“What does Guardian think?” Kalypso chimed in.

“Umm... good question.” She hadn’t heard a peep from her alien hitchhiker in hours. Well? she asked silently.

... You instructed me to be silent, he reminded her. But if you are asking my opinion, I agree Bravo should be examined first.

“He says Bravo,” she passed on to the others.

“Bravo it is then,” Xeno concurred, as they adjusted course.

The alien ship they’d designated as “Bravo” was much larger than Rächerin had been. She’d been a runabout, a rich man’s toy, but Bravo appeared to be some sort of survey vessel. They had designed her engines for endurance and durability, while her hull sported numerous sensors and oversized hatches. She wasn’t the fastest ship, but if they could escape the system and find somewhere to hide, they should be able to hold out indefinitely.

They landed among the lattice-like grid work that dominated the docks, checking their tethers before moving forward. So far no one seemed to have spotted them, but between their small size in relation to the massive berths and the pandemonium Gideon had created, there was little wonder. Climbing along the hull, they halted in front of an emergency airlock, as Samara turned to Xeno once more.

“Anything?” she asked him.

He silently regarded the vessel for several seconds before rocking from side to side. “I still sense nothing from within,” he informed her.

“All right. Kalypso, you’re up.”

The other woman swam forward, taking a moment to examine the hatch before pressing her gloved hand against the locking mechanism. As she watched, her hand disappeared into the metal frame while she manipulated the latch’s internal workings. Within seconds it reemerged from the hull, as the hatch began cycling open.

... A singular talent, Guardian observed.

“It is,” she agreed, before giving an exaggerated shrug to the others when they turned to look at her. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you can’t hear him,” she apologized.

“There was a time when individuals who claimed to hear voices were thought to be mad,” Xeno observed, while the three of them moved into the airlock.

“Ha, ha,” Samara replied, as Kalypso closed the hatch and started the cycle, pumping air into the chamber as it equalized the pressure. Less than a minute later, the inner door slid open.

Despite the presence of an atmosphere, the ship was dark and cold. Not as cold as space, but Samara could tell without removing her helmet the temperature must have been well below freezing. She could see ice crystals on the exposed surfaces, confirming her suspicions.

“This ship can’t be operational,” she told the others. “If it were, there’s no way they’d let it sit like this. All this condensation would be bad for the electronics.”

“It must be under repair,” Xeno agreed. “We can inspect the Engineering space to confirm that, but frankly I do not see the point.”

“Me either,” Kalypso chimed in. “Maybe they mothballed it?”

“If that were the case, they would have pumped out the oxygen,” Xeno informed her. “No, I believe they have given this ship for whatever reason a low priority for repairs, while they work on other craft.”

“That means we head for Charlie then,” Samara sighed. She’d been hoping they could slip in and out unnoticed, but that had never really been in the cards. “Did you get an idea how many individuals were aboard her?” she asked Xeno.

“If I had to guess, I would estimate between five and fifteen,” he replied. “I regret I cannot give you a more precise answer.”

“It’s alright,” she shrugged, “we’ll figure something out.” Of course, there was only one way they’d be taking over that ship. Despite their skills, neither of her companions were warriors, and while she might be able to handle whoever was on board on her own, she had a much better option at her disposal.

Talk to me, Guardian, she said silently.

... I will have Cherdor Hosk standing by, he assured her. He is the Cognate who dealt with Rook and its minions when you lost consciousness.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“... let’s hope that’s enough,” she said softly, before keying her mic. “Back out the way we came,” she told the others, as they reversed course and reentered the airlock.

... He is a skilled warrior and Theurgist, Guardian attested. Given the situation, it is my estimate that of all the Cognates at my disposal, he is the most qualified.

“Sorry, a what?” she asked in confusion, while Kalypso cycled the airlock once again. “What’s a Theurgist?”

... It is a Cognate skilled at assuming control of the host, he clarified, one who can operate your skeletal muscle tissue and somatic nervous system as efficiently as you yourself, as well as manipulating the nanotechnology that binds us together. Not every Cognate has this ability, for it is not always necessary.

Kalypso and Xeno were giving each other looks again, but she ignored them. “So that’s how I can hear you? Nanotech?” she asked. She was no stranger to the concept, as many races, including humanity, also used the miniaturized robots for various tasks, though she suspected Guardians were much more sophisticated.

... That is one function, he agreed. It is also how we could repair the damage to your system when you were injured.

Considering they’d brought her back from the brink of death three times now... four, if you counted the wounds she gave herself... she wasn’t about to argue with the results. “Have Hosk standing by,” she ordered Guardian. “When this all goes down, it’ll happen fast.”

... He will be ready, the alien assured her.

“Hosk?” Xeno inquired politely, though there was an edge to the question that was hard to ignore.

“My personal ninja warrior,” she told him.

“Considering that is how many would describe you…” he said carefully, before trailing off into silence.

That edge was getting louder and harder to ignore by the moment, but now was not the time. Later... if there was a later.

The trio took a minute to reorient once they were clear of the ship before launching themselves towards Charlie. It took a while before she could make out its lines, but once she did, a thin smile appeared on her face. It looked like an armed assault shuttle, which in any other navy would be considered a corvette at the very least. The Tu’udh’hizh’ak built their ships on a massive scale and having once been their guest she wondered if it was to house the aquatic environment the amphibians and their client race the Chell seemed to prefer.

Or maybe they’re just overcompensating for something, she snickered to herself.

... Forgive me, but I am not entirely certain that I grasp that concept, Guardian said dubiously.

Samara rolled her eyes. “It’s not important,” she snapped. Get your head in the game, girl, she admonished herself. Now was not the time to lose focus, even if she was handing the ball off to someone else.

Other ships departed the system, but strangely she noted no arrivals. Were Gideon and Persephone still rattling their cage? She hoped so, for the more distracted the enemy was, the better chance they had of escaping. If her motives were selfish, then so be it.

It took them another hour to drift across the breadth of the spacedock, and Samara was keeping a worried eye on their oxygen tanks. They still had a cushion, but the margin of error was getting a lot thinner than she cared for. The three of them landed in the shuttle’s shadow, huddling together on a girder.

“All right, we don’t know what’s inside,” she told the others, “which means playing it by ear. Kalypso, once you get me in, I want you and Xeno to stay hidden until I give you the all clear.”

“What are we supposed to do if something happens?” the other woman asked.

“Considering your best hope for survival will have just gone out the airlock and they’ll be on high alert, I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Samara said with more than a trace of sarcasm. “Odds are you’ll be dead in less than an hour.”

“Samara,” Xeno admonished her, but she was having none of it.

“The time for hand holding is over,” she flared. “This is about as big as it gets, so deal with it.” She glared at them both, but neither wished to challenge her. Her position secured; she softened a bit. “Xeno, can you keep a signal from getting out?”

“I do not know,” he conceded, “though I will try.”

“All I can ask for,” she agreed, checking her display. “It’s game time. Move out.”

Just as before, Kalypso used her ability to gain entrance to the shuttle. As the hatch slid open Samara was already shooing them both away, gesturing towards a secluded spot out of anyone’s line-of-sight. She waited until they were safely tucked away, before hauling herself aboard and sending a quick message to her new best friend.

Guardian? Now.

She sensed the alien warrior slip into the driver’s seat, gently easing her aside as he took the reins. For the second time she was fully aware as Cherdor Hosk slipped into the corridor as the inner hatch opened, checking fore and aft. She could hear them now, the Chell’s chittering squeaks as they went about their business. That was fine. It made them easier to hunt down. She already had her own sidearm up and ready as she headed for Engineering, while the Cognate controlling her body broke out into a jog. Run and gun, she noted. It was a technique used by the impatient and the incredibly skilled, and she knew which one her companion was.

Rounding the corner, Samara spotted two Chell working at a console... doing what she had no idea... but before she could form the thought she was already moving past, their bodies falling to the deck as Hosk double-tapped both of them. It had taken less than a second, and she knew even on her best day she’d be hard-pressed to match his skill.

Unfortunately, the weapons she had at her disposal weren’t silenced, and moments after they eliminated the first two enemies, a warbling alarm began blaring within the ship itself. Damn it, she silently cursed, before turning her attention to her passenger. Faster... need to go faster, she urged him, though he didn’t bother responding. In the time it had taken her to react and form those thoughts they had already raced through two more compartments and added a third body to the list as they swept through Engineering.

Piece of cake, she giggled as the pair doubled back and started forward. With any luck, we’ll clear this ship and escape with no one the wiser.

...in retrospect, she really should have known better.

Hosk dropped two more as they cleared amidships, but as they coursed past the cargo holds a hammer blow slammed her into the bulkhead, shattering her faceplate. Her vision glitched out for several seconds while she struggled to keep up, but the alien in control didn’t miss a beat. She felt her body turn as he fired yet again and sensed more than heard yet another Chell go down.

There was what felt like a stutter-step as her body fought to stay upright, and yet other than the initial blow she felt nothing. A sudden flash of color announced her optic nerves were functioning again, though as they started moving forward again it took her a moment to realize that something was off, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. There was no time to ask those kinds of questions as Hosk dragged her body faster and faster through the alien vessel, killing the Tu’udh’hizh’ak clients in ones, twos, and threes.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

They had reached the Bridge, and she realized as Hosk moved from one console to the next, he was searching for the alarm switch that was still blaring away. The last time this happened she’d ended up as Rook’s prisoner, though hopefully they’d have better luck this time around. Moments later, her hand reached out to press a flashing button, silencing the klaxon at last. That done, they turned on their collective heel and headed back to the airlock where they’d entered. Xeno and Kalypso were already standing by as the hatch slid open... Hosk must have signaled them at some point, though she had no conscious memory of that... waiting patiently as the airlock finished its cycle before stepping out to meet them.

Kalypso screamed, collapsing to the deck.

Hosk was still in control, so she rudely elbowed him aside. I got this, she snarled, taking back control, as she bent down at the other woman’s side. A wave of pain and nausea washed over her as she grasped her hand. “Kalypso... it’s me,” she assured her.

She could only gibber in horror. “... your face... oh God, your face…” she whimpered, as Xeno knelt beside her, while Samara stumbled back away.

Don’t want to see don’t want to see don’t want to see, her mind howled in a madness-filled feedback loop, but even as she tried to avoid the truth a hideous compulsion seemed to overwhelm her, dragging her to a nearby mirrored surface just as surely as Hosk had dragged her all across the ship. The reason her vision had seemed off was now clear, with her sole remaining eye staring back in panic.

Half her head was missing, and even as she watched she could see her skull and exposed brain slowly knitting itself back together.

... Fade to Black.