"Do we have a visual confirmation on the interception of that rocket?"

Things were so hectic at the moment Flannery barely registered Heenan's question. Fortunately he seemed to understand this and didn't press for an immediate answer, rather he joined the ongoing effort to locate said rocket's origin.

"Confirmed by our deck officers and those onboard C384. No word from C248, concerning since they were the target of the strike..."

Unnerving might have been a better word for it, the fact that their rookie CO who’d been so diligent thus far going radio silent. To her understanding a considerable eastern force had fallen upon C248 during the start of the second approach, but with the entire crew available it shouldn't have been anything they couldn't handle. And no transmission had reached them requesting assistance, not like C217. Flannery was seriously considering running out onto the back deck just to see for herself. Risks be damned.

"C248 this is command, requesting an update on the situation onboard."

"..."

"C248 I am requesting an update from the onboard comms officer."

"...oh shit. Uh, this is C248. I'm afraid to report our CO is away from the bridge at the moment."

Flannery directed a sigh of relief away from the microphone.

"Officer please identify yourself."

"Yora Vedmann, engineering division, acting pilot."

"Officer Vedmann what are the current whereabouts of Ms. Villard, as this is a rather inopportune and dangerous time to be away from her station."

"To the best of my knowledge...she's still on top of the bridge."

Flannery must of heard wrong.

"I'm sorry, on TOP of the bridge?"

Officer Villard's previous transmission in response to news of a raider breaching the convoy came to mind.

"Yeah. Now that I think about it, I guess saying she was away from the bridge was technically inaccurate. My bad."

As if this was a semantics argument. What the hell was going on onboard C248?

"Just see to it that wherever she is, Ms. Villard returns to her station asap. Emergencies aren't an excuse for COs to leave their—"

"I'm here, I'm here! Sorry for the delay!"

Although Flannery hadn't been present to witness the chain of events, after tossing Lux her rifle, Esma had been helped down from the bridge by Cade who proceeded to slap his own headset atop her head. He then urged her to return to the bridge before things on deck escalated. Leading to the current transmission, taking place as Esma ran down the strong side stairs en-route to the bridge.

"Is everything alright? You sound winded?"

"All good here, just the adrenaline...and stairs, and nearly being blown up by a rocket...did I mention I'm on a lot of adrenaline right now?"

According to the recent report the rocket had been intercepted just above C248. Does this mean she really was on top of the bridge? For what possible reason?

"Yes well, that rocket was intercepted by C384’s sharpshooter. Is C248's sharpshooter incapacitated in any way?"

"Still up, she uh...misplaced her rifle just before the rocket was fired."

"Was her rifle at all damaged in the recent approach?"

They'd be in big trouble if one of their sharpshooters was suddenly handicapped by a standard issue. Granted to her limited knowledge on the subject, courtesy of her sister, Lux didn't make many modifications to her rifles aside from barrel length and small adjustments to the rear sight.

"Our stowaway got it away from her somehow, must of been just before he threw her. Shit, please don't tell Lux I used the word throw."

"Only if YOU assure me that you didn’t take turns confronting this stowaway on top of the bridge of a moving Crusader."

"Not me, turns out if you don't confront them they'll leave you alone. Or maybe Lux was the one who shot that slab up? I'm afraid I don't have all the details at this time."

Upon this bit of news Flannery cast a dark look in the direction of Commander Heenan who still employed the other headset. A stowaway of substantial size with enough finesse on a bike to breach the convoy and board a Crusader discreetly. And to top it all off, there had been mention of slabs in their vicinity. Only one man fit that description in these parts. Quiet Murn's very own party leader, Guell Quay.

*

Lux felt a renewed sense of enthusiasm once her rifle was back in her possession. They hadn't been apart long thanks to the success of the impromptu plan, a plan someone just had to go and throw a rocket into. But it all worked out thanks to the intervention of the other sharpshooter. Whom may need to continue performing the bulk of rocket interceptions if their mountain of a rifle thief decided to start acting up again.

With any luck he'd sit his ass back down atop the bridge and let them do their jobs. Speaking of, now that the rocketeer was effectively in firing range of the convoy, Lux wanted to position herself on the back deck where she had more freedom to move around. The reason she and the other sharpshooter had been placed on the front deck to begin with was to minimize confrontation with the boarding parties.

Since Quiet Murn's present objective revolved around the destruction of the cargo, there would be no point picking a fight with someone who wasn't in the direct path to reaching that objective. In theory anyways. She'd still gotten involved obviously. Not like either side was going to sit back and watch their companions get killed.

Initial assignment aside, Lux still needed to rotate to the back deck but wanted to minimize the time spent away from the upper level. As relinquishing the deck for any duration of time to climb stairs and ladders would provide potential opening for the rocketeer to exploit. Shortcut it is then.

Slinging her rifle behind her back, Lux backed up until she was up against the front railing and broke into a running start. Just before reaching the start of the strong side stairway she launched herself off her right foot and reached both arms out. Grabbing the back deck railing with both hands and using the leftover momentum to swing herself over onto the back deck.

As impressive as the shortcut might’ve looked from a visual standpoint, Lux didn't actually think it was all that impressive. After all she'd never failed the jump before, nor had she mistimed it and tumbled down the stairs. Not even during her first attempt at it, back around the time of her third or fourth convoy ever. It helped that the direction one jumped in was opposite the direction the Crusader was moving. At least she assumed it was an advantage. She'd heard others argue the opposing propulsions made timing the jump much harder and more fear inducing. As if the stairs were charging towards you faster than they should be.

Lux's response to such complaints was always something along the lines of "Why are you watching the stairs when your goal is the railing behind them?" The other security officers tended to drop the topic at that point. Something about her being wired differently.

Now firmly on the back deck, Lux moved off to the side in case Cade intended to follow her lead and use the shortcut as well. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed he hadn't. No surprise there. This in spite of all her attempts to get him to practice the jump when the Crusader was stationary. He always brushed her suggestion off and defaulted to the stairs. Much like now as he followed after Esma who'd rushed off after being helped down.

But since SHE was already there, Lux moved to join Evan on the weak side railing. From which she could scan for the rocketeer while picking off residual members of the recent approaches. Although part of her stubbornly maintained an awareness of the bridge, a safeguard for if her nemesis decided to jump down. Having learned from the earlier exchange Lux knew better than to confront him from here. Recalling the way he’d successfully reacted to her shot from a much shorter distance. Assuming she’d be more successful from here was delusional at best.

Best to wait until Cade emerged on the back deck and have another pair of eyes on them. Part of a spotter's job was defending their sharpshooter from enemies who got too close anyway. Not that Lux expected Cade to take this person alone. Alongside Evan he might have a chance thanks to her extensive boxing pedigree. Assuming she found a way of getting inside their reach. You want to talk about a ‘tall task.’ Ugh. She was beginning to worry that HE was rubbing off on her. They, who weren't even on this convoy.

Crap, her mind was getting away from her again. More than anything Lux needed to put her head down and focus on the task in front of her. If only the presence behind her didn’t have other ideas.

*

"Command this C384, we've lost visual on target. Be advised the rocketeer is retreating into a huddle between shots."

"Copy that. Our deck officers have it marked and will pass it off to C248 after the turn."

"Command, C248 is currently in the process of escorting a party of one to their table, deck officers may be unable to receive or pass targets."

"I'm well aware Reefe, officers on the bridge have already been passed the responsibility of marking the target until further notice. This channel will remain open so as to assist them."

"Copy."

Lowering the mic headset, Reefe drummed his fingers against the console before seeking out the speaking tube that connected the bridge and strong side platform. Lifting the lid and making the requisite taps, he waited on an answer.

Strange as it sounded, he wasn't concerned about the rocketeer. Not with Leora on deck and Youn spotting her. He was, however, concerned with how Preece and Everage were holding up downstairs against the stragglers from the most recent approach.

It was well established among personnel from the Western region that Preece was still very green despite his service time approaching a year. Not that the problem was effort related, he really did try his best. It had more to do with his over-reliance of others in pressure situations, including a propensity for freezing up or overthinking when a call had to be made.

Everage on the other hand, who like Fahlenbolt over on C248 favored the engine room over the bridge, proved to be the more competent of the two when it came to stalling or engaging boarding parties. Not uncommon for an engineer in this area of the Expanse but balanced out by his refusal to operate rifles or firearms in any capacity. A common held practice among devote supporters of the Elixir of Life, a popular belief system among the youth that made recruiting for the LCF more difficult in recent years.

For both these reasons Reefe felt compelled to check in on them at regular intervals to make sure everything was under control. Not that he'd prepared a course of action in the event things were in fact not under control.

What would he do? Wave down Youn and send him back downstairs? Doubt that would fly with Leora who was very particular about her own job and the jobs of others, even more so in times of crisis. And with Laud down that left him as the only real option in terms of backup. While not entirely opposed to getting his hands dirty Reefe was far from a skilled combatant. Competent enough with a rifle or in a fist fight but not so much he could swing the momentum of a conflict or spark morale.

"We're fine Reefe."

Reefe could hear shots in the background (more clearly than from the bridge at least) indicating the fight was ongoing but upon hearing the level of composure in Everage’s voice found himself at ease somewhat.

"So knock it off or we’ll ignore the next summons, fine be damned. Shit kicks off you'll know."

Before he could respond the sound of the lid closing reverberated up the speaking tube. Deep down Reefe knew Everage was right, and that at this point he was becoming more of a distraction than anything.

Returning to his console, he slumped into the open chair and subconsciously ran a hand down the sleeve on his left arm. When had he become such a bundle of nerves? It was like he was growing more anxious with each passing convoy. Granted this one had unique factors that made it particularly stressful, all the more reason he shouldn't be jumping at shadows. Maybe it was time he finally relented on a personal decision that he'd been wrestling with as of late.

If the convoy reached Belveer he would take some time away from field service to get his head right. Any more of this and the personnel downstairs would be the ones calling up to the bridge to check on him. Unfortunately, whatever temporary relief he gained upon coming to this decision dissipated after a transmission over the open channel reached his ears.

"This is C248, target has emerged from the huddle. Rocket fire inbound."

*

"We got another one incoming!"

Leora, who'd just taken out a Hussard who’d been buzzing around the corner of her peripheral, turned towards her spotter for clarification.

"Heading and distance?"

"Not sure, reports coming in from C248."

Leora glared at the man.

"Use your head, if C248 has eyes on them then that means they must be moving south along the east boundary. They'll have to make a turn west at some point. Unless you think they’ll do us the favor of making a U-turn, give us some free shots on the house in the name of good sportsmanship."

A red-faced Youn didn't respond. Whether the redness was caused by embarrassment or anger Leora couldn’t say nor did she care, shifting her attention to the rear of the convoy instead. As she’d just outlined that was where the rocketeer or the huddle he was tucked away in would most likely appear next. And if the report from C248 was in real time that meant she had a real chance at getting a shot off on the rocketeer before they retreated behind their escort again. In the event she missed that window her next read would have to be the formation leader. Taking them out could trigger a brief collapse in formation. One that could expose the rocketeer, or perhaps force the group into a mistake.

Or so Leora would have like to believe, but despite being no more than an active dissenter of the current religious leadership, the individual responsible for spearheading this effort had demonstrated a noteworthy degree of skill thus far if deck officers were continuing to have a rough time pinpointing their location and predicting the groups pathing.

Sure Quiet Murn was running interference, but not the intentional kind. In fact, the interception of the first rocket had forced a fair number of the raiders away from the convoy. Because why risk boarding when the job they were being paid to realize was being carried out for them by a more effective means. Which is why Leora couldn’t wrap her head around the reason for C248’s passivity to this point. Unless the raiding party had a good reason for continuing the assault on the rocketeer’s initial target?

Maybe the party was led to believe eliminating two of the four cargo bays amounted to a success in the client's eyes. Or had been told as much when accepting the job. A reasonable possibility as according to the manifest the sturdiest strains of Cinnabark used for construction required longer amounts of time to grow. And if New Kantler didn't receive enough to began construction on the institutions right away it would buy the opposing factions plenty of time to counter or abolish the new law.

Did this mean all the rocket strikes would be targeting C248, or were they testing the waters to see which Crusader would be least capable of repelling recurrent attacks? Leora promptly ditched that line of thought. Far too risky to start assuming the rocket’s target.

Suddenly the sound and sight of an explosion rocked the convoy from the skies above C248's rear. From what she could gather the interception of the rocket allowed for much more breathing room this time. Implying the other sharpshooter managed to circumvent whatever was restraining her beforehand. All Leora needed to do now was wait for the escort to appear and apply some pressure.

Looking down sights she found the group retreating to the critical distance boundary, to reload in all likelihood. Just as she began the process of aligning her sights Youn's voice rang out unexpectedly.

"Which one is it!?"

Confused by his remark Leora followed his own line of sight and saw that there was indeed not one but three separate groups of huddled individuals. Two outside of the one she'd honed in on, that one had simply been the first to make the turn.

"You take the closest and I'll handle the furthest! Only if you’re certain you have the right one do you call it!"

“Right!”

Interesting that they'd wait until after the second rocket to whip this method out. The first having relied on diversion tactics and the element of surprise. She surmised that independent strategies had been prepared for each attempt at firing on the convoy. This most recent method, while being initially troublesome, had a short shelf life as it depended on numbers to execute effectively. Numbers that would only diminish with each pass around the convoy, starting now.

"We'll wipe out every last one of you if that's what it takes."

Across the convoy, an involuntary smile spread itself across the face of the convoy's other sharpshooter. Almost as if she'd heard and approved of Leora's own words.

*

It wasn't his fault.

The stranger had appeared unannounced, leaving him unable to escape to the recesses of the shelf in time. So in lieu of retreating, his legs had taken him forward. Towards the greasy confused man, and towards a future neither he nor his mother ever envisioned possible.

"..."

It was over in an instant. Happened so quickly that Guell’s mind briefly questioned how the corpse of a man with a broken neck could have ended up on the floor of their tiny apartment. It was only after his brain caught up with his body's actions that he began to panic.

The body would need to be removed, or else his mother could be blamed as the only official resident of the apartment. But what could he possibly accomplish without revealing himself in some way?

For the meantime he settled for moving the body off to the side, away from the view of the doorway and covered it with the old sheet he used when he slept. It was too short for him anyway, whether he curled up or not. But it did provide him a sense of security during times of solitude. During times like these...

Suddenly paranoid, Guell positioned himself on the opposite side of the apartment and sat up against the wall. Pulling his knees to his chest, he desperately searched for ways to be rid of the body so they could resume their humble yet peaceful lives. Unfortunately he failed to reach any viable solutions on his own. Leaving him no choice but to wait for his mother's return in the evening. Because together they'd be able to get through this. Just like they'd done whenever difficulties presented themselves in the past.

She wouldn't be upset with him would she? He hadn't meant to do anything wrong, and he'd even followed the most important rule; Guell had done it quietly. Things would be fine. His mother would never leave him—

"Behind!"

A call went out from just about every crew member onboard C248. From Yora and Esma in the bridge, to Cade and Evan on the back deck. The latter two rushing over in a bid to prevent the towering raider from interfering with Lux, who'd just narrowly escaped being launched from the Crusader a second time. This time by way of a side kick.

Taking a deep breath to settle herself down, Lux rested her cheek up against the side of her rifle and positioned the incoming rocket in her sights. Releasing her breath in a puckered whistle, she applied pressure to the trigger. And the resulting shot connected, triggering a premature detonation of the rocket that echoed across the convoy.

Rather than celebrate her first interception of the day, Lux switched her sights to the escort that the rocketeer had retreated into. But before she could follow through, the sounds of a struggling Cade reached her ears from nearby.

Weighing the possibility that Cade was purposefully making his fatigue more apparent than usual, Lux vacated her current position laterally. Proving successful in evading an attempt at grabbing her neck from behind. Turning around she could see that Cade was now attempting to strangle the raider from behind to no avail as he lacked any form of leverage. Not a surprise considering his legs weren't even touching the deck. Such was this raider’s stature.

"Stop, drop and roll!"

Evan’s instructions from across deck were directed at Cade, as both she and Lux had set themselves up in a crossfire position. A position they’d naturally rotated into thanks to extensive scheming and practical experience in the field.

Cade was happy to oblige and released his hold, dropping to the deck awkwardly before rolling off to the side as fast he could. Lux and Evan promptly opened fire in unison, one aiming high and the other low. No verbal or visual cue necessary. A byproduct of working together off and on over the past year. Spend enough time shooting alongside someone and you were bound to pick up on their various idiosyncrasies when it came to marksmanship.

In response to his precarious circumstances, the raider launched themselves upward with minimal movement from the waist down. Instead relying on the upward swing of the arms and torso to create momentum. And in place of where his legs had been, an array of canisters that had been kept concealed on their person.

Evan, who'd aimed low, watched as a couple of her shots punctured the sides of several canisters causing a chain reaction of smoke and flash detonations. The surrounding convoy watched from their respective Crusaders as a tall cloud of smoke materialized over the back deck of C248 and began flowing outwards over the railings. Made more surreal by the intermittent flash of stun grenades going off from inside the haze.

All three officers, trapped within the maw of the billowing smoke beast and its intermittent cries, hunkered down in favor of escaping the smoke. While they each had their own reasons, the main concern stemmed from the overwhelming assault on each of their senses just now. With the near loss of both their vision and hearing, the ability to recall or determine one's current orientation became difficult. And rushing out of the cloud in such a state posed the threat of running straight off the Crusader. So they waited for the smoke to disperse, donning goggles to limit the irritation caused to their eyes.

But the fourth presence on the back deck, sporting goggles prior to the diversion, had already landed soundlessly and was making their way towards the last known location of the blonde sharpshooter. Spotting their crouched figure in the direction of the rear, the party leader stalked towards their target when suddenly the sound of a familiar voice reached them from the other side of the smoke.

"Need some help in there chief!"

Recognizing this voice as that of Quiet Murn’s vice leader, Guell debated whether any form of response was wise or necessary. They did have ways of communicating nonverbally, but any type of reply could alert the girl and her companions to his position. Then again Guell did want Relck to locate and secure the pieces of the broken slab. Almost certain they were still on the Crusader somewhere.

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"Sorry pal, deck's closed for fumigation at the moment!"

Evan emerged from the cloud with her goggles on and rifle drawn.

"We’re in the middle of smoking one big nasty spider out. Come back later."

She opened fire on the brawny man, moving laterally at the same time.

The man named Relck raised his buckler and deflected a few well-placed shots, before pulling a pistol from his side holster. Resting the barrel of the pistol on top of the buckler, he returned fire. Evan sprinted for the cover offered by the entryway to the bridge, making it through unscathed thanks to a smooth leg fist slide.

As this confrontation raged on Cade found himself questioning the significance of another party member reaching the back deck so easily. Had he snuck past Engler and Gandlin, or gone through them? The fact he so loudly announced his presence upon reaching the deck didn't bode well for the second possibility. Unless the two were held up defending the cargo bay. If that were true he couldn't have arrived from the ladder which sat in front of it. Even if that was somehow the case his next move would have been entering the bridge directly rather than running out onto the back deck.

Cade then recalled the raider from earlier who'd taken advantage of the spikes that had been planted and pounced on Gandlin from his blindspot when they'd been on the platform. That would serve as a viable method for climbing up. Plant one or two more spikes above it and you'd be in business. Which presented them an entirely new problem to deal with. Assuming this medium was in place, having more party members showing up out of nowhere when they already had their hands full with one monster was a nasty prospect. Someone would need to remove these spikes as soon as possible.

Seeing as he was the only one not directly engaged in combat, it would be on him to at least check. But in order to remove any potential spikes he'd need to retrieve a crowbar from the cargo bay, the shortest route to which being the ladder way. Off limits unless he wanted to get between Evan's gun fight. That left him with no other options aside from dropping down to the platform from the back deck. Basically a far safer iteration of Lux's shortcut in reverse.

Now that he had a set course of action to take, Cade sprang up and felt around for the railing. Because even with most of the gas dispersed, he didn’t want to add surviving a fall over the edge of the Crusader to his plan. Following the railing towards what should be the front deck, he felt a pang of guilt about temporarily leaving Lux without a spotter. After all he was essentially forcing her to fend off the more immediate threat of the raider on her own.

“...”

Except she wasn’t on her own, and he wasn’t truly forcing anything on her. These types of unfavorable circumstances were commonplace in this line of work. For everyone, they weren’t special. And having some grandiose notion that his decision making would somehow decide the fate of his comrade was the height of egotism.

Lux would be just fine with or without him here. Even more so with Evan around. Poor sap facing off with her didn’t know what he was in for. And it's not like he, Vedmann or even Esma would be far. That’s what made overcoming each unfavorable set of circumstances so tenable. The teamwork that Crusaders encouraged by design and by principal.

A smile crossed Cade’s face as he began lowering himself onto the strong side platform, after removing the spikes maybe he’d try and get one good swing in with the crowbar. Maybe pulverize the slabs the raider had purportedly brought onboard. That ought to get their attention.

*

Lux's eyes watered as she rushed to locate her goggles, all the while an unfamiliar voice made itself known from somewhere outside the smoke. Another voice belonging to Evan responded and coincided with an exchange of gunfire. Needless to say these weren’t the conditions one strived for when sharpshooting rockets out of the sky.

But the back and forth did tell her that none of the canisters had been Pipe Down. A small victory if you could even it call it that, but she'd take whatever they could get at this point. Conditions aside her main concern remained the rocketeer, although living long enough for the smoke to dissipate was also right up there. A troublesome task knowing that raider had to be lurking somewhere nearby.

For whatever reason they seemed to be targeting her, then again she did try to blow his head off back on top of the bridge. In her defense, sudden movements from an unidentified individual amidst an ongoing raid with a rocketeer kicker called for violence. Lux would also like to believe they lived in a world where not being blown up by rockets took precedent over matters of petty revenge.

As these thoughts raced through her aching head, Lux finally found her goggles and went about wrestling them onto her head. But in the process of yanking them from her pocket something else had fluttered out, falling a short distance to the deck.

Picking that something up she wiped at her eyes in an effort to identify it. Lux proceeded to mentally admonish herself. Put the goggles on first dumbass. Slapping them on she was then able to make out the object as the stranger's ID card. The one that had turned up on her person this morning.

She was honestly surprised she even still had it with her. After Cade refused it in her half-hearted attempt at making peace, she'd intended on dropping it off at the station's lost and found. Absentmindedly she must've returned the card to her uniform pocket after changing, perhaps mistaking it for her own.

Recognizing the risks of remaining stationary any longer, Lux shoved the ID back in her pocket and grabbed her rifle from the deck. Truth be told, something about the contents of the ID that she’d glossed over before finally clicked for some reason. Part of her wished she had a pad of paper to write down her small epiphany, but her plate was full as is. So for now she settled for scrutinizing the ID at a later date and began working her way in the direction of what should be the bridge. Hard to tell with her senses still recovering.

Luckily those senses had recovered enough to warn her of the boot two seconds away from coming down on her collarbone. Turning on her heel Lux fired a shot where the raider's body should be in relation to their leg, accounting for the raider's abnormal size. The realization she'd somehow missed came when a second leg emerged from the smoke in a sweeping motion towards her side. Lux raised a forearm to block, but still got hit with enough force to send her tumbling onto the back deck. Using the momentum of her fall she rolled into a crouched position and brought her rifle to her hip. No time to aim down sights at this range.

As she waited for another disturbance in the flow of smoke, her mind got to analyzing the uncharacteristic string of misses. Starting with moments before when she and Evan had the man dead to rights in a crossfire. Lux had been the one to aim high. It was a propensity of hers to miss up and had been ever since her days back in the sharpshooting course. Evan knew that and defaulted to aiming low. But in this case it had also been a conscious decision based on her initial clash up on the bridge.

She'd seen firsthand how explosive the raider's movements were, and purposefully targeted higher than one would deem necessary. And her decision proved to be correct as they'd launched upwards in the blink of an eye, right into the path of her bullets. Or so she thought, but without any changes in movement conducive to an injury or signs of blood on the person or deck she couldn’t be sure. Had she really missed?

Based on her accuracy during the previous visits and her more recent interception of the second rocket, Lux was more or less just as sharp as usual. And yet something about shooting this raider was proving especially difficult. And in order to discern why she’d need time to consider whether all the failed attempts thus far shared a commonality.

Usually these sorts of things would be left to the spotter to figure out. As she was far too busy sniping rockets out of the air to make any in-depth observations. Where had Cade run off to anyway? Didn't he know this behemoth was still running wild trying to kill her?!

As if her thoughts had summoned them, the raider was suddenly looming over her. Lux didn't hesitate to fire two more shots from the hip, stopping just short of firing a third when her internal reload counter warned against it. She needed to keep at least one shot ready if another rocket took to the air. She watched in frustration as both shots sailed by the raider who'd gone side face to evade. Both misses sailed across deck and from what Lux could see through the nearly dissipated smoke, struck just to the side of what appeared to be Cade dropping down onto the platform. Some spotter.

Now at close range Lux took her rifle in both hands and executed a buttstroke, targeting the raider's abdomen since his head was out of her reach. Unable to move away in time the raider took the blow and wheezed out a masculine grunt. So it does feel pain, and rifles do work. Just not in the conventional way thus far.

In response to the body blow the raider's head dropped forward exposing his chin, far enough to warrant an upward swing of the rifle that also landed. A blow that caused the raider to reel back. Smelling weakness, Lux exploited the opening and planted the end of her barrel right in the solar plexus of her opponent's chest. In her peripheral she could make out two massive hands encroaching on the barrel in a last ditch attempt at self-preservation, but knew they would never make it in the time.

In the milliseconds before her finger contacted the trigger, Lux both heard and felt an ominous clap sounding somewhere in the distance. Succeeded by the disembodied voice of a man.

"Those who would trample on this world’s sacred silence, bestow your truth now or forever hold your peace. "

*

"Flannery, see to it that C384 is notified of C248's current status. They need to be made aware that they'll be the main line of defense against the rocketeer for the time being."

"Understood."

Heenan turned his attention to the piloting engineer.

"Keep this convoy traveling at its current speed. I don't care how close we are to Belveer, we’re either coming in hot or not coming in at all."

"Yes sir!"

Heenan plucked the rifle from the console and headed for the ladder way. Taking notice, Flannery paused her status update and reached for the sleeve of her superior's sleek uniform jacket.

"Commander, I don't think that's wise. We're better off with you here for the remainder of—"

"LCF bylaw 3 subsection 4, should the acting Convoy Commander be incapacitated, killed or deemed unfit for the role of command, succession of the command falls to the acting head communications officer."

"Your none of those things!"

"Not yet anyway."

A rare smile crept over the features of the normally stern man.

"But I doubt I'll be returning to this bridge, and with this being your last convoy, I thought it appropriate that you experience the role of a commander at least once. Even if only for a short while."

Flannery was beside herself. Of all the possible reasons that had to be among the stupidest she’d ever heard. Unfortunately, before she had a chance to properly express that anger, the man was already halfway down the ladder.

"I'd better see you in Belveer jackass!"

Heenan could sympathize. This being her final convoy, his death would make for a poor send off. Leave a bad taste in her mouth. So as he touched down at the base of the ladder, he resolved to see her off properly at their station of arrival. From the ladder he headed over the currently sealed engine room door, where he knocked four times in a prearranged rhythm. The number and rhythm of knocks changing with each convoy. A moment passed before the sound of a lock disengaging could be heard and the door slid open partway, revealing a wary Tesra.

"I'm headed over to C248, I require assistance with the gangway."

The engineer stared at him for a moment, as if unsure whether he was serious. The sounds of gunfire, although less prevalent than before, raging in the backdrop.

"Fine."

The sturdy woman stepped out from the room and slid the door closed, turning around so she could lock it behind them. She then turned toward Heenan with an expression most commanders would interpret as insubordination.

"I hope you realize Flannery is going to give me hell later. And would it kill you to call down next time? Some of us don't like surprises."

"Yes well, time was of the essence."

The two rushed over to the weak side platform where Tesra began the process of unlatching the gangway, while Heenan gave instructions to the on-site security officer on cover fire.

Crusader gangways were notoriously dangerous; with their location, simplicity and lack of safety measures all being contributing factors. They weren't even their own entity to begin with, as ninety percent of the time they served the role of either platform's railing.

Essentially the railing unlatched beyond a certain point and that segment could then be swung outwards like a gate. Once that segment of the railing was perpendicular to the Crusader, a mechanism in place allowed it to be swung on its side to form a rudimentary crossing. More or less a kicked over ladder that extended a little under two meters. Not terribly far, but long enough that lowering it was a herculean task for a single person. And it couldn't be placed on its side haphazardly, unless one wanted to risk the entire railing collapsing during the crossing. Hence Heenan’s need to call upon Tesra for assistance.

And together they unlatched and swung the railing open, making sure it was steady before the hard part. Each grabbing the closest rung, they labored to lower the segment onto its side in a controlled manner. Once it was secured in place, Heenan heard the security officer he'd given instructions to beginning to lay down cover fire. Apparently, some party members had seen the gangway being deployed and had moved in to investigate the maneuver. As it would have been seen as odd this late in the route.

"Now what?! Crossing under this kind of duress is suicidal!"

Tesra's bangs whipped across her face as she tried to convey her skepticism. No doubt she'd also noticed that no one onboard C248 was there to receive him, in other words deploy their own gangway or offer additional cover fire.

"You let me worry about crossing over, I just need you to restore the railing once I'm gone."

"I figured as much, but..."

Heenan brought a hand up to the mic of the headset he still wore, shielding it from the wind. He directed an inquiry at the person on the other side.

"Is your pilot ready?"

"All set on our side."

Esma's voice sounded over the headset, sounding no less sure of herself than before. A positive sign that things onboard C248 weren't as dire as they could be.

"I'm counting on you to get the timing right."

"That’s an awful lot of faith to place in a rookie, commander."

"We don't have the privilege of making such distinctions. Not in this region of the Expanse."

"If you say so. By the way, I'm obligated to inform you that my perception is a bit defunct at present. One of the rockets from earlier got a bit too close for comfort."

"So I’ve been told. Although this confirms that the faction and raiding party are acting separately. Rest assured I won’t be placing undue blame on—"

"Now!"

Heenan double checked that his rifle was securely strapped to his back and broke into a sprint down the gangway. Or at least as close to a sprint as the rungs allowed. At what could be considered the halfway point of the gangway he watched C248 accelerate forward, bringing his landing spot with it. In that moment Heenan was reminded of the countless afternoons spent on the Federation Academy's obstacle course. One section in particular coming to mind. The portion dedicated to simulating his current action, the act of crossing a gangway.

According to the course's instructor, each individual's stride determined the number of rungs they should take at a to optimize crossing over efficiently. Granted it wasn't an exact science that had a formula you could just plug your stride length into. What with the various environmental factors one needed to account for during the real thing. Which made muscle memory through countless trial and error the best option for recruits. Painful trials at that, especially for the male students.

Fortunately that muscle memory remained intact despite the passage of time and Heenan successfully navigated the crossing and launched himself from the final rung of the gangway. Landing with a forward roll on the strong side platform that materialized beneath him. As he took a moment to collect himself, he could feel the Crusader decelerating to its previous position in the formation. Grabbing the rifle from his back, Heenan flashed a thumbs up at Tesra who'd shaken her astonishment and began retracting the gangway. The convoy commander wasted little time racing through the bowels of C248, updating the bridge on the way.

"I'm onboard! Headed up now!"

"I told you he'd make it."

Turning sharply at the junction, Heenan briefly spotted a pair of security officers engrossed at the opposite end of the corridor, narrowly avoiding a collision with a young man wielding a crowbar.

"Fuck, I almost bludgeoned the Commander!"

Heenan allowed his own sigh.

"Rest assured, I would have taken you with me."

He lowered his rifle and looked over the crewman's shoulder at the ladder.

"I'll help deal with Quay, you go ahead and continue your current task."

"Quay?"

He watched recognition turn to panic on the young man’s face.

"The girls are upstairs facing off with Quiet Murn's tragic leader?!"

“That’s what has me concerned.”

*

She felt it then, in tandem with the far-off clap. A sensation she could best attribute to having something on the tip of your tongue, only to discover the mouth required to articulate it was no longer there. But to have it strike amidst combat, that was a new development. So caught up by this was Lux, that she failed to register the inquiry of the euphonic voice.

What even was the source of the voice? The raider? They hadn't spoken a single word since appearing. And with their attire concealing so much of their face and person, it was difficult to discern with any certainty if they were truly the source of the voice she was hearing.

Lux did however note that the last of the smoke had finally cleared. But not just the smoke, for an instant it appeared as if everything had been wiped clean from the environment. Save for the towering figure stood a short distance in front of her, whose appearance had undergone a shift of its own. Namely the absence of the many layers concealing them to this point.

And so she was met by a pair of angry red eyes tucked beneath impossibly sharp eyebrows. That of which traveled beyond the man’s temples, disappearing into short messy black hair that complimented bronze skin. What really caught Lux’s attention though was the litany of crisscrossing scars that littered the man's lower jaw. All of which shared a similar contour and size. Almost like an artist had taken a knife and stencil to the canvas that was the man’s lower face. And yet everything above the upper lip remained untouched by whatever tragedy had befallen him. Next thing she knew that upper lip was moving.

"You and your companions have created this noise, and by following the world's pleas for silence I have come to end it."

Just as quickly as it had gone the environment was back where it should be, including the attire that covered the man currently bringing a basilard down on Lux’s person. She barely managed to raise her rifle in time to deflect the blow, her best option with how much force had been behind it. Which was enough to force her to one knee if not knick her rifle's barrel. Lux was denied the chance to recover as a successive strike off the deflection targeted her jugular.

She retreated further down rather than back, wanting to avoid being pinned against the railing. And with the intention of creating space between them, kicked off the composite wood flooring towards the center of the back deck. A decent start but her overall odds weren't favorable, not with a reach that formidable. To the extent it struck Lux as odd that the raider didn't employ a longer melee weapon. Accounting for a wingspan of their size, no place on deck would've been safe. Best not to ask, wouldn’t want to give any ideas.

Knowing it wouldn't be long before she was within that raider's reach again, Lux ditched her critique of the man's weapon and focused on a strategy to quell her opponent. Starting with the acceptance of the fact she wouldn't be able to shoot her way out of this one. At least not entirely. As for whatever reason she seemed incapable of felling this giant with any of her shots, something she was still struggling to fathom.

The thought of getting in close again to potentially break that streak was daunting, what with his choice of short sword and the amount of force he could put behind it. That left her with the option of stalling long enough for crew mates to become available. Maybe one of them would have better luck.

Her best bet would no doubt be Evan, who remained in a confrontation with another raider closer to the bridge. Technically there was also Cade but Lux knew he wouldn't have run off without good reason. Meaning he was taking care of something he judged to be pertinent to their reaching Belveer intact.

It really didn't matter who it was assuming Lux succeeded in steering the raider into their line of fire. Because even if she couldn't shoot him, someone else probably could. Depending on where she led him Lux could even limit his options for evasion, give her and the other deck officers a more definitive shot.

At the very least she couldn't imagine him surviving another crossfire situation, not unless he somehow laid more canisters. But in the event he did have another trick up his sleeve, Lux felt she had a surefire method for throwing him off his game. An appropriate choice of words considering his earlier attempt at being rid of her.

Plan in place, she managed to avoid a thrust from the basilard that blew by the right side of her face by mere centimeters. Truthfully she hadn't given any thought to movements that could extend the raider's reach even further. And since a thrust was typically preceded by a lunge or push off, Lux could have very well been skewered just now. Her instincts had saved her, and those same instincts were screaming at her to move away again. But instead she opted to take advantage of the man's momentary extension.

Before the raider could retract his arm even halfway Lux stepped forward and with her right hand grabbed the wrist of the extended arm, her left hand simultaneously performing a palm strike through the elbow joint. The roar of the kiai during the movement eclipsing the sound of her rifle bouncing off the deck. A familiar sound in martial arts meant to startle the opponent and force exhaling. But it wasn't enough to keep the sound of the raider's arm fracturing from Lux’s ears.

Retreating out of the reach of his other arm, she scooped her rifle from the deck and took aim. Half expecting some measure of panic or retreat Lux was annoyed to find that the man remained unperturbed by the threat of her rifle. Making no effort to evade the incoming shot. More focused on reeling in his ailing arm and constructing a makeshift sling from the ensemble on his person.

To demonstrate such blatant disregard for her sharpshooting prowess, surely it was meant as a psychological play to shake her confidence and invoke another miss. Or was some outside force rendering her incapable of landing a shot on him? Only one way to find out.

The sound of not one but multiple rifles firing filled the air as it was the raider’s turn to be brought to a knee. His functioning arm tentatively reaching behind his person and feeling around for the site of the fresh wound. They retracted the hand, now covered in blood and stood once more. But rather than direct his gaze at Lux the raider turned his head in the direction of the bridge, the source of the other shot that had accompanied hers. There to meet that gaze head on was none other than Heenan Larkspur, the convoy’s commander. Who wasted little time taking aim again at the now wounded party leader.

"Ayfer, you're back on rocket cleanup!"

*

Evan was out of ammunition. She anticipated cutting it close what with the excessive number of visits, but hadn't planned on being the first one onboard shouting ‘Mazarine!’ Such honors typically went to rash security officers like Nocks. Fortunately for her the bridge was at her back, which meant supplementary ammo from the gun safe. Or possibly from someone below if her call carried down the ladder way to the guys downstairs.

The more pressing issue was whether her adversary would hear the call out and take advantage to move on her position. As it was no secret among raiding parties what callouts the LCF used on a day-to-day basis. It wasn’t unless a convoy had a particularly paranoid CC that the vernacular changed. To some extent this went both ways as raiding parties also had a preferred lexicon, but taking into account the absurd scale on which the LCF operated it was more difficult for them to update or change the most widely understood callouts. Whereas raiding parties which were small in size and somewhat nomadic rarely saw the need to make changes. And even if they did, could do so with relative ease. One such method involved rotating the terminology according to what was unfamiliar in a LCF’s given region of operation.

But since Evan didn't have that luxury, she was left with a short list of options for communicating to her companions that she needed ammo. Soon at that. Take much longer and the raider would connect the dots. And he was definitely keeping count, those who favored pistols as their primary firearm often did. Because keeping track in one-on-one gunfight was crucial to overcoming a weapon with a distinct range advantage. An advantage that could be chipped away at by making full use of the enemy’s reload time to close distance.

Screw it. Security officers were trained to reload in the time it took to blink anyway. Let the bastard come, it would make for an easier shot.

"Mazarine!"

Now that she'd announced her predicament, Evan attuned what remained of her hearing to the areas behind and in front of her. The front took precedent as there was a real chance the raider would charge her position immediately. Meanwhile she'd interpret any presence coming from behind or below as an ammo delivery. Although the most routine method for being given ammo involved having a magazine zipped at your head.

Interestingly enough the sounds of boots advancing on her position never came, rather Evan heard an oddly chipper male voice calling out to her.

"Figures you'd be out of ammo, long day and all! You have my sympathies!"

Evan's face scrunched. What the hell was this guy up to? Trying to hold conversation now of all times, but she'd play along if it bought her time.

"That’s actually the name of one of our officers! Just giving her a heads up! Good ole Mazarine!"

Not the worst lie she'd ever told, but not one she was proud of either. In her defense the call out did refer to the name of a person, specifically someone from an old LCF anecdote. A dark one at that. But officers who signed up for field service tended to enjoy dark humor, to the effect it could be mistaken as an unspoken prerequisite for joining. This was despite the Council of Health’s repeated attempts at stymieing such rumors.

"I'm sure! Until they arrive, how about hearing me out!"

Before Evan could reply, she heard and watched as a pistol came clattering across the deck. Coming to a rest in front of her a little ways.

"What say you to a friendly scrap to settle this?"

Was this guy serious, or was it some sort of trap? Perhaps he had another fully loaded pistol on his person, one that he planned on emptying when she emerged. Voice that concern moron, anything to keep this conversation going.

Evan’s eyes briefly flitted over to rest of the back deck. And from the look of things, Lux was managing to hold her own. Not to the extent she could worry about someone else though.

"You call it a friendly scrap, but I have every intention of punching your head off!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way sister!"

Sister?! Alright, caution be damned. Emerging from the entryway, Evan made a show of blindly tossing her rifle away before shedding her oversized jacket and discarding that as well. Needed to be replaced anyway, its assortment of fresh holes along one sleeve defeating the purpose of keeping her warm. With her jacket literally aside, she proceeded to reach into a back pocket and retrieved a pair of similarly tattered tactical gloves. Sliding them on she flexed her fingers a few times, preserving a shrewd expression throughout the process.

The raider reciprocated that arrogance, making a show of cracking his knuckles and rolling out his neck. He proceeded into a bounce step, keeping his hands and wrists loose in a lazy half-guard as he gradually closed the distance between them.

"Find comfort knowing that Relck of Quiet Murn will be the one to escorting you to the final resting place!"

"Who let a noisy prick like you into a party preaching silence?"

Evan assumed her own fighting stance, her version of a double-guard, and dropped anchor. Her boxing style was inherently defensive but she also didn't want to stray from her closest source of cover. Just because this jerk proposed they settle things without firearms didn't mean his companions would feel the same way. She also remained convinced he would whip out another pistol at some point. The best way to make sure neither happened, end this quickly.

"You’ll find that silence is a privilege few can afford."

The raider known as Relck pushed off his lead foot and attempted to use his height advantage to go above her guard with a right jab. A smirk sprouted on the face of the dark-haired security officer. Lucky for you I hand it out free.

*

Esma nearly jumped out of her skin when a feronetic rifle came flying into the bridge unprompted, sliding to a stop against the base of the center console. Taking a long hard look in the direction of the doorway, to ensure nothing else was following behind it, she moved to inspect the firearm.

The action of plucking it from the floor prompted Esma to revisit whether sealing the bridge would be in their best interest. Procedure dictated that the bridge be sealed whenever security forces engaged boarding parties in active combat. And yet Esma couldn’t bring herself to abide by it. Perhaps if Vedmann or another senior officer insisted she'd relent, but the fact that no one had commented one way or another made leaving it open feel justified.

Part of the reason she felt comfortable leaving the bridge accessible had to do with the fact that the raiders were targeting the cargo bay specifically. Granted roof man seemed to have his own agenda. One that seemed to involve Lux in some capacity. That aside if anyone seriously wanted to force entry into the bridge they would have done so already. Plus it was better to give the crew the ability to move about the Crusader freely since so much was transpiring. This included her of course, and she'd already exercised that freedom by frolicking about the space above her.

Who knew if someone else would need to enter or leave the bridge suddenly, or when. Apparently, this rifle wanted in. And upon closer inspection Esma noticed it didn't have a magazine in it. Strange, even without ammunition, why discard the rifle itself when it could further serve as a melee weapon? The one thing she was certain of though was that the rife belonged to Evan.

Her being the only other deck officer on this level, that and Lux wasn't about to go discarding her rifle when she was supposed to be intercepting rockets. Unless she'd lost it again and this was the result. Regardless of who it belonged to, it needed to be reloaded. Something she was capable of rectifying thanks to her time at the Federation Academy.

Fortunately the maintenance, assembly and reloading of a rifle had never been what plagued Esma during her weapons course. Her struggles concerned the part that came after. As for now, she'd settle for the unforeseen task of collecting and returning rifles that escaped from their owners. Now, how to go about returning this one?