They arrived at the break of dawn two days later. Just as Guell finally found the resolve to leave the apartment in search of his mother, who had yet to return and witness his act of self-preservation. There were eight of them, each covered in boiled leather and armed with a javelin. They were cautious in their inspection of the space, although the size and layout of the space practically made it a moot point. As three of the guards searched the cupboards another two saw to removing the body of the deceased. He considering requesting the return of his blanket so that he might wash it, but upon witnessing the reactions of the men when he made to speak, he instead resumed his silent observations.

Unlike he'd been taught, Guell hadn't attempted to hide himself upon the forced entry of the group. There hadn't been enough time to move the shelf anyway, and part of him hoped his cooperation would afford him a chance to ask the men of his mother's whereabouts. Which concerned him over his own well-being at this point.

Once the body had been removed the men ordered him outside the apartment, where they placed restraints around both his arms and legs. This would have been an opportune time to ask about his mother, but Guell found himself so taken by the unfamiliar surroundings that he was unable.

As it turned out their apartment was very high up, among the top level of a massive housing complex. Far below he could make the colored tops of various tents and canopies. The market his mother frequented and made regular mention of perhaps. But before he could get a better look someone shoved him hard from behind. A signal to begin moving.

It was as their procession began descending the long flight of stairs that Guell found his voice and asked the men around him if they knew of his mother's current whereabouts. Not one of them answered, making him question whether they'd heard him at all. Or perhaps his speech had been incoherent. A combined result of his nerves and complete lack of social interaction. Then again the men seemed hard pressed dealing with the collection of individuals crowded on various sections of the stairway they were trying to pass through.

Some appeared to be playing some sort of game involving cards and tiles, while others consumed meals of jerky and crackers. Everyone else appeared to still be asleep. Contorted in various ways, some nursing a bottle in their arms as they snored soundly. But the soldiers marched straight through all of them, ignoring the occasional cries of disapproval or meeting them with threats of violent retaliation. Strange enough one man begged the guards to arrest him. Is that what was happening to him, was he being arrested for what he did to that man?

Guell built up the courage to try asking again and this time got a response from one of the older looking guards.

"You did no disservice by killing that man. Your apprehension rests on your usefulness towards the Great Project."

Guell didn't know what the guard was talking about, but seeing as this man had responses to give, he once again tried asking about his mother.

"If you're referring to the woman whose name was tied to that apartment, she has since relocated to a new residence. No more questions."

Confusion wracked him. His mother had moved somewhere else? Suddenly the restraints on his limbs felt much heavier and the unfamiliar surroundings he passed by no longer piqued his interest.

"But...what about me...?"

*

Crowbar in hand, Cade debated whether he should brave returning to the back deck to remove the spikes from above or do so from the weak side platform. Ideally he'd do it from above where he could better utilize his weight to remove the spikes, with the added bonus of not having to turn his back to any raiders who happened to pass by or sought to board as well. But with so much conflict taking place on the back deck, he couldn’t help but think he’d get in the way.

Cade ultimately settled on climbing back up using the spikes themselves, then removing them from top to bottom. That way his appearance would be less distracting and or conspicuous to those up top. He could also deter more raiders from climbing up by acting as an obstacle. Better yet if he removed his uniform jacket before climbing up other party members might mistake him for one of their own. To better sell the illusion he could even collect attire from one of the bodies onboard.

This was slippery slope though, sell it too well and Cade ran the risk of being shot by Lux or Evan on reflex. And while part of him believed Lux would be the end of him at some point down the road, he didn't intend for it to be so soon or misguided.

Exiting onto the platform he saw that combat with the boarding parties had calmed down considerably, with both Engler and Gandlin focused mainly on staving off further approaches or picking off stragglers. Cade did note however that they were taking turns shooting, a reminder of just how dire the ammo situation must have become on a convoy wide scale. Next he stopped Gandlin before he could roll the last of the Volt’s bodies overboard.

"Wait! Let me grab his buckler!"

Rushing forward he plucked the gear from the raider's arm and went about fastening it to his back. Sensing the questioning gaze from the older man he explained.

"I'm going to see about removing the spikes starting from below, to discourage more company. If you could help keep them off me."

Tristler glanced upwards in the direction of the back deck, exhaling a cloud of smoke above the platform.

"Shit, so someone did get up..."

The older man looked exhausted from up close. Quite literally an embodiment of the expression ‘running on fumes.’

"Thought I saw the commander in the corridor just now, is it that bad upstairs? Should I head up?"

"You did, surprised me too. But they should have it handled. Don’t head up unless directed to do so from the bridge."

"If you say so."

Cade glanced briefly in Engler's direction and saw that his bullet wound must be affecting him. His skin appeared clammy and his breathing labored just from staying upright. He would need proper medical attention upon arrival. Sliding the crowbar beneath the buckler on his back, Cade moved to the edge of the platform and tested putting his weight on the first spike. To help distract himself from the risk involved he spouted some words of encouragement to the pair of security officers.

"New Kantler will be visible any minute now. Won't be much longer until we’re arguing over which tavern to begin the night a—"

His words were cut off by the sounds of another deafening explosion. This time from the direction of the lead Crusader. Apparently the rocketeer was also aware of how close they were getting. And with one of their sharpshooters locked in combat and the ammunition of the deck officers only continuing to dwindle, things weren't looking up.

But Cade looked up anyway and carried on with his current task. The success of convoys hinged on everyone doing their jobs regardless of circumstances. That included filling in or completing tasks as needed. By all means, this was business as usual.

*

"Cutting it a bit close don't you think?!"

"Don't remember asking for an opinion!"

Leora had just barely managed to intercept the rocket headed for C326 at the forefront of the formation. A calculated move by the rocketeer that sought to take advantage of the unknown disruption onboard C248. That of which was currently stalling the convoy's only other sharpshooter.

The tactic was simple but effective. By driving clockwise around the formation and waiting until they passed in front of C326 to fire, they ensured the optimal amount of visual obstruction to the rocket's initial trajectory. Leaving Leora a much tighter window for discerning the rocket's path and subsequently subjugating it.

Returning to the front deck would theoretically solve this problem by giving her a less obstructed view, but that would only shift the nature of the problem. Because being on the front deck meant putting the bridge between her and the entire back half of the convoy. They'd essentially be gifting the rocketeer more options to get a clean shot off.

The thought of using the shortcut to go back and forth had crossed Leora's mind, however doing so would require precious seconds worth of her attention to pull off cleanly while also compounding her built up physical fatigue with each leap.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, but I am asking for your ammo. All of it. Your job from here on out will solely be visual confirmation of the target's position and actions, got it?"

"Not like I have much of a choice..."

Youn turned over what little ammunition he had remaining, half a magazine's worth, and resumed scanning for signs of the escort that concealed the rocketeer. Meanwhile Leora worked quickly to load all of their collective bullets into a single magazine, knowing the time it took to reload could prove fatal.

"Five shots, that's five rockets I can intercept."

Leora doubted they even had five rockets left, something Youn seemed to agree with based on his reaction to her comment. But suddenly something made him perk up and lower the binoculars.

"The redistribution of ammo, we missed our chance to do it earlier! The officers onboard C326 should have some at the ready! I'll let the bridge know then head to the front deck, once I'm there they can toss over—"

"Except your job is strictly spotting as of a few seconds ago, is it not?"

Leora gave the man a stern glare, one he met with equal parts anger and confusion.

"The hell are you saying! The more shots we have, the more chances we give ourselves to draw this out until Belveer!"

"The more shots I have you mean, and I wasn't complaining when I mentioned having five shots left. I can and will intercept five more rockets if I have to, but in order to do that I need YOU assisting me HERE. Let Preece or someone else gather ammo if they finds the time."

Leora had no way of knowing the tremendous amount of remorse she'd triggered in Youn then. Because he'd almost done it again. Much like his late father, Youn had nearly left someone he knew needed his help behind. The epiphany stemming from his earlier brush with death apparently amounting to nothing.

Youn swallowed, then released a shuddering breath to calm himself down.

"Your right. I'll stay here, stay here and spot the hell out of that rocketeer-ing bastard. Way we're syncing today, doubt we'll even need all five."

Leora raised a brow at the sudden change in demeanor but didn't question what had made the man see reason. She had a long list of more important things to worry about if she was to back up her previous statements. Then again, an oversupply of confidence and a short memory were two qualities every sharpshooter was expected to exhibit. The ones who didn’t had no business on field service.

*

"Get on."

Guell stepped onto the wooden lift alongside two of the guards and a moment later began ascending a massive cliff face. When they'd exited the living sector he couldn't say, so troubled was he by the news of his mother. He wasn't even sure how long or how far they'd walked. All he knew was that his feet ached terribly, and the guards on either side of him on the lift were different from the ones before.

Understanding they’d returned to a higher elevation, he attempted to turn his head to gauge their current whereabouts but was stopped by a strong hand.

"Eyes forward puller."

Another term Guell was unfamiliar with, the list of which continued to grow the longer he remained away from the familiar walls of the apartment. A place he was beginning to believe he'd never see again. With the intrusion of that unsettling thought, the lift finally came to a stop at the top of the cliff. Stepping off he was immediately struck by an intense heat baring down on the rock face from above. The result of being that much closer to the sun with nary a source of cover in sight.

Raising his restrained arms to shield his eyes, Guell tried to look at what he assumed would act as his domicile for the near future and bore witness to something that made him even forget his mother temporarily. Because on the opposite side of the plateau the rock face converged to form a large steady incline, stretching so far upwards that it appeared to serve as a bridge connecting the domains of land and sky. And resting along the length of the mighty formation, a metal chain of baffling size.

He was too far to be certain, but the size of each link looked to approach that of the table he and his mother had taken their meals on. Which in reality consisted of two smaller tables pushed together to better accommodate his size, while also allowing ample space for activities such as carving and writing practice.

As they grew closer he could see that the thickness of each link was equally impressive, amounting to roughly that of his leg. The weight of the chain must be tremendous. And so explained the sheer size of the workforce responsible for moving it, currently sat on either side of chain in small circles. Partaking in some manner of break.

Each laborer's appearance indicated that they'd already been hard at work for some time. Likely starting work at the break of dawn when cooler temperatures made the environment more tolerable. As Guell was led past the various groups he saw that many of them were quite large in size, although he still had a majority beat. Some returned his gaze with varying degrees of interest but none spoke out about his sudden arrival. Probably because they couldn't.

For positioned across the lower portion of each worker’s face sat an apparatus intended to punish and limit speech. Designed in such a way that the lower jaw would contact an arrangement of multi-directional spikes if the mouth was opened beyond a certain point. Leaving its wearers unable to communicate verbally outside of mumbles and whispers. Although a fair number of the laborers seemed to have adopted the use of hand signals to get across basic words and phrases in place of verbal communication.

The trio came to an abrupt stop at around the halfway point of the resting portion of the chain, when Guell knees were struck from behind. Forced into a kneeling position, a metal contraption identical to those of the others entered his vision from behind.

Guell didn't panic, as doing so wouldn’t do him any favors and could result in physical harm from the aforementioned spikes. He also didn't see the loss of his speech as a significant loss. Although he wished he'd been able to ask about the nature of what he'd be doing from now on, along with the more pressing questions he had relating to the colossal chain. Primarily what the other end of the chain was connected to.

Having passed one end of the chain on his way to the halfway point, the other end wasn't visible at all. Disappearing somewhere high in the blue expanse of the sky. A sky Guell was still unfamiliar with. For all he knew both its color and the presence of a massive chain emerging from it were common knowledge among those who frequently treaded beneath it. Strange his mother had never made mention of it, nor had he read anything about it in the books they owned. The "Great Project" was what the guard had called it. Soon he'd learn what that meant.

The "Great Project", a concentrated effort by a collection of far east city states that relied on the use of slave labor to commit an egregious violation of one of the ancient truths. This particular violation sought to take advantage of the forgotten chain, the remnant of a failed military conquest from some bygone war. The newly appointed purpose of this remnant, to pull the abode of the gods into to the realm of man. So man might one day blur the line between us, and them.

*

Cade reached the top of the railing just in time to see Evan drop the unfortunate soul she'd been fighting. From what he could gather from this angle she'd used a left hook to the body to drop the raider's guard, then proceeded to catch him on the chin with a vicious right uppercut. He fell forward with an unceremonious thud as Evan stepped aside nonchalantly, before ducking into the bridge.

Not far from where she'd disappeared stood Commander Heenan, the sights of his rifle pointing on what appeared to be an wounded Guell Quay. A bit further down was Lux who looked peeved but otherwise physically sound. Meaning on the surface it seemed the situation on the back deck had swung in their favor. Not one to intrude, Cade refocused on removing the top spike from the side of the Crusader.

Fortunately one side of the spike hadn't punctured all the way through the outer plating, allowing for it to be removed with relative ease. Next Cade stepped down to begin work on the second spike, but the sounds of shots ringing out somewhere on the weak side gave him pause. Whether they came from friend or foe he couldn't say. But he did find comfort knowing he wouldn’t have to worry about catching strays from the deck. Lux and Evan were far too mindful, and Quiet Murn’s party leader didn't carry or use firearms according to the data collected from his previous appearances.

Alas that comfort wasn’t going to help pry the spikes out any faster. This second one proving especially troublesome, having been embedded much more soundly than the first. Cade carefully adjusted his body position which in turn allowed him to change the angle he was applying his force to. All while painfully aware that any sudden turns or movements from the Crusader could have him grasping at air. But that fear proved short lived as the adjustment he made was the difference in removing the second spike. Now that the top two were gone, he'd need to return to the platform if he wanted to safely remove the bottom two. So he descended again, leaving behind the sounds of the back deck melee. Hoping the next time he surfaced, the matter will have been resolved.

*

Heenan knew better than to be stingy with ammo when it came to putting down threats on par with that of Guell Quay and promptly let loose a barrage of fire. Ever mindful of officer Ayfer's position behind the target, he attempted to keep potential misses straying in a downward trajectory.

Whether the party leader knew the significance of the security officer’s role or anticipated this level of precaution from a commanding officer was up for debate, but the man reacted wisely and mirrored the movements of the blonde behind him. Prompting Heenan to hold off on the last few shots of his magazine in favor of a bullrush.

Leading with his shoulder Heenan targeted the leader’s busted wing, but ended up contacting his side due to a last second pivot. The sound of a collision echoed across deck as both men recoiled off one another, and Heenan attempted to fill that small distance with the end of his rifle.

Frustrated by these repeated attempts at invading his reach, Quay brought the elbow of his functioning arm down hard on the commander's collarbone. The force of the blow was enough to jostle his finger off the trigger, although he did manage to keep hold of his rifle.

A strike from a knee sought to change that as it flew upwards towards the weapon. Not wanting his arms to be knocked upwards as well, Heenan released the rifle. In theory this would have allowed it to be knocked away. Unluckily for him the strap of the rifle hooked his left wrist on the way up, causing the rifle to subsequently rebound back down onto his head. Heenan was awarded an angry bruise on the side of temple that thankfully didn't affect his consciousness.

Quay snatched the rifle off the bounce and proceeded to swing it sideways across Heenan's chest, striking him hard enough to stagger his breathing and propel him backwards. As he struggled to recover his breath Heenan watched Ayfer sprint past the two of them in the direction of the front deck. He wagered she intended to make use of the running start to take the shortcut to the front deck, but to his surprise rather than leap across the stairway her momentum carried her up towards the top edge of the bridge. And while he couldn't understand the point of this maneuver, Heenan reminded himself that he boarded for the sake of dealing with Quay, not micromanaging one of his sharpshooters. Interestingly enough the man himself appeared uninterested in the young woman's actions, his gaze remaining fixed forward.

"Move your ass Commander!"

If his adrenaline addled brain wasn't mistaken, the voice belonged to that of Officer Browder and came from somewhere behind him. Understanding this was a tactless way of telling him to get out of the way, Heenan ceased his attempt at regaining his balance and instead let the fall carry him into the wall of the entryway.

Evan immediately released a hail of gunfire from the newly loaded rifle, and while Heenan was distracted bracing for the oncoming impact, he couldn't imagine a scenario where the raider escaped without serious injury or death. Not from this distance. His collision with the wall came then, but the sounds of shots puncturing flesh or splintering bone didn't. Looking up in confusion, he saw that every one of the shots had sailed wide of the man in either direction.

"What is this guy—?!"

But before the shock of completely missing a static target at such close range could fully set in, something even more ludicrous graced the combatants of C248's back deck. Quay's head turned suddenly and the crew in attendance also watched on in mix of disbelief and unease as an active rocket passed mere feet behind the party leader. The rocket's path marked it at around the raider's shoulder height, and its trajectory carried it safely over the strong side railing. It maintained a perpendicular course across the convoy, threatening to contact the side of C384 who had been beset upon by another boarding party and couldn’t react.

Everyone watched helplessly as the rocket crossed over the inner sanctum, the convoy seconds away from catastrophe, when an all too familiar whistle sounded from overhead. The rocket promptly detonated in the heart of the convoy, creating a minor shockwave that traveled outward in all directions. Officers and raiders alike scrambled and flinched away from the unprecedented explosion. All except for the source of the whistle, and the man who sought to silence it forever.

*

The decision to scale the bridge in favor of returning to the front deck had its merits. For one, it offered an unrivaled view of the entire convoy as well as its surroundings. Naturally this included the location of the rocketeer, affording Lux a greater window of time to judge a rocket's path and trajectory before intercepting it. And thanks to this being her third stint atop the bridge today, she had been able to fine-tune a method for scaling it in the shortest amount of time possible.

Officially this was how Lux would explain away her actions in the mandatory report upon arrival, but in reality her motives centered around testing a theory regarding the inability of C248's deck officers to shoot their obscenely large guest.

It was during her time in the smoke that Lux began questioning whether any of the misses shared something in common. Her first thought being that each miss had come while she was the shooter. Going off that alone a sane person would attribute it to a skill related issue. An off day if there ever was one. But such an explanation quickly fell apart when accounting for her successful interception of multiple rockets during the same time span. Because even if any old security officer could shoot a raider from across the deck, only someone trained in sharpshooting could hope to intercept something the size and speed of a rocket. Let alone anticipate its trajectory.

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As she’d been wrestling with this fact Heenan had made an unexpected appearance and unknowingly contributed to her theory. For the commander had been able to shoot their guest without issue. More importantly he'd done so from a blind spot, rather due to a lack of awareness from the target.

After being shot the raider even had the gall to turn away from her. Something she hadn't taken advantage of in the heat of the moment, the influence of all her prior misses compiling. Combine that uncertainty with the more pressing need to handle rockets and Lux's decision to stay her finger became a guarantee. All things the party leader might have been counting on when he dared to redirect his attention.

Then following a back in forth that involved mirroring her movements, it had been Evan's turn to inexplicably miss every one of her shots. Adding fuel to her theory in the process. Because during his brief skirmish with the CC, the raider had made it a point to remain facing the direction of the bridge. More specifically the same direction as the unencumbered deck officer packing a freshly loaded gun, who also happened to be the same person he'd actively avoided the fire of when caught up in the earlier crossfire. In contrast to Lux own barrage which he'd practically jumped into of his own free will.

Ergo it stood to reason that the answer to all of their absurd misses up to this point revolved around the raider’s line of sight. More specifically his gaze. He'd expected a barrage to come from Evan, prompting him to maintain his gaze in the direction of Heenan and the bridge. Even when she, the person he'd been out to kill mere seconds before, sprinted by. At the time he'd demonstrated indifference to her presence and actions, as if whether she lived or died was of no consequence.

But now, with the rocket's detonation at the center of the convoy drawing everyone's attention, the man's gaze had once again become fixed on her position atop the bridge. Exposing his concern that she'd take advantage of both her new firing position, and the time it would take for the rocketeer to reload and relocate.

As to how this guy was coaxing misses through the exertion of his gaze, Lux hadn't the slightest idea. It defied reason the more she thought about it, so she promptly stopped thinking about it. Not to mention if she had worked things out correctly then this tactic of his would become obsolete when faced with multiple opponents. He'd never be able to contend with them in a three on one if she was up here. Potentially four, depending on if Cade wrapped up his little side project soon.

That being said it might be best to leave this monster an opening to flee, or rather allow an approach through so it could recover him. Because the only thing more dangerous than an injured animal was an injured animal that was also cornered. And Lux knew from firsthand experience that the same sentiment crossed over to humans. In a worst case he might even throw self-preservation out the window and invite another rocket. Just to make sure they all went with him.

Bearing in mind her newfound desire to encourage a flight attempt, Lux didn't exactly do them any favors by allowing a wicked smile to find its way onto her face. All while she was looking down on the party leader from the bridge no less. She was practically asking to have it wiped off her face. In most cases she'd have welcomed an attempt, but with the convoy still under threat of...exploding...Lux didn't have the privilege of being selfish here.

Willing the smile away from her face, Lux watched as the cornered man tore the face covering away from his own. Revealing the same angry red eyes from earlier. She half-expected the world to fall away as it had done the first time she'd viewed his unobstructed appearance. It didn't, but his warning from before did replay in her mind.

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

Who was he even calling noisy!? Shouldn't that complaint be directed at the ones handing out rockets like candy! And they'd explode whether they were intercepted or not! Frustration mounting, Lux called out to her companions.

"Now, while he’s focused on me! Light him up!"

Evan and Heenan responded in kind and opened fire. Or at least both tried to, but the other raider who'd been incapacitated at the foot of the bridge had managed regain consciousness and on shaky legs found the determination to tackle Heenan to the ground. In response to the sudden assistance their ailing visitor focused on avoiding Evan's line of fire, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on Lux. Up until he retreated from her sights.

Cursing, she ran over to the the portion of the bridge closer to the front deck, and began searching for him. But it was no use, Lux couldn't see him. And all she could hear were the sounds of intermittent gunfire raging around the convoy. Well, that and the sounds of Heenan struggling to fight off his attacker.

"Feel free to drag your ass back up here, I'll see to breaking that other arm!"

On cue a large hand appeared over the edge of the bridge opposite to her, soon followed by the large form of the man with the mangled jaw. A jaw that opened and finally spoke to her directly.

"Your ilk will only continue to incite the unbidden. For what purpose? How much of a disturbance do you intend to create here?"

Rather than respond to his misplaced preaching, Lux reached behind her and grabbed something from the bridge's surface. And with a grin even more devious than its earlier predecessor, smacked the only intact tablet that remained.

"You tell me."

*

"It's meant to hinder our ability to cooperate in the event of a revolt, more importantly we mustn't let the gods learn of our progress."

"Aye. So many millennia have passed that they've forgotten the chain even exists. Unnecessary noise could alert them to our presence and summon their wrath."

Guell had joined a group of older co-workers around one of the many small fires located at the center of the camp. The camp where they all slept and ate when they weren't atop the plateau. Here they were allowed to speak in hushed tones, the contraptions encouraging their silence removed upon entry to the camp.

"Those eyes, and that height...your ancestors must hail from the Endless Kingdom.”

This was the first time Guell had ever heard of such a place. Were there others like him there? Such things had never concerned him before, but in the time since his mother's disappearance, all sorts of things had started taking root in his mind. So in the gentle voice he so seldom exercised, he asked both men if they could tell him more of this country and its inhabitants. They shook their heads.

"What you need is a Voyager."

"You dolt, Voyagers are more tight-lipped than we are during work hours."

Guell looked back and forth between the bickering men before a light tap drew his attention. He looked over his shoulder and spotted a woman behind him. One of few assigned to the Great Project.

"Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear.”

Why would she be sorry? Was the point of speech not to be heard.

“I'm no Voyager, but many years ago I joined some companions on a journey to the outskirts of the kingdom you’re curious about. Would you like to hear about it?"

He nodded enthusiastically and reorientated himself in front of her. The woman smiled and took a sip of the warm drink she was carrying before beginning her tale.

Guell would go on to hear many stories from the woman over the course of as many evenings around the fire. They were admittedly few and far between, but each fascinated him in new and unique ways. Among his favorites was an account from her time traveling with her aforementioned companions.

She’d told of a time they came across a very tall but very bent old man who exhibited an unusual speech pattern. He referred to himself as "Rift" but expressed confusion over the concept of given names. Apparently he'd been in possession of something of interest to the woman's companions and happily turned it over to them, something he’d grown tired of over its incessant whispers. The old man then offered to show the group ancient enchantments meant to shape time and move stars. All while speaking quite fondly of his homeland, despite his recent exile from it, and referred to his next destination as the world's "Veranda." The story fascinated Guell and spawned a great deal of questions, only some of which the woman could answer.

Things eventually progressed to a point where the woman's stories were the sole thing he looked forward to. But he found whenever she recalled parts of her personal history that a deep and penetrating sadness would take hold of her in the aftermath. Guell never pried into what plagued her, even when that sadness presented itself in the middle a story. Asking would be such a simple thing for so many, but not him. So instead he'd wait patiently, until the emotion passed or drove her to turn in for the evening with an apology. On one such night when the emotion had come and gone, it became her turn to stare at him silently.

"It’s funny, I look at you and can’t help but be reminded of an old story. Not one of my own, but one that might resonate with you in some way."

He perked up at this, as any story from the woman was of interest to him. Whether its contents had anything to do with her was of little consequence. More so if it spared her that sadness. And so she continued—

"Have you heard the story of Quiet Murn?"

*

"How many rockets do we have left?!"

The young man shouldering the RED felt he already knew the answer, but knowing for certain would play a crucial part in his upcoming choice of targets. His comrade fished around the large bag tucked on her lap and produced a single rocket.

"This is the second to last one..."

The escort around them grew quiet as the rocket was loaded into the back of the device. No doubt they were all disheartened by the lack of results to this point. Understandable, their best chances at striking the convoy having slipped away now that the raiding party had subsided its offensive.

"Hand that fucking thing over! You've already wasted enough rockets!"

"Will you calm down! In case you've forgotten, we chose Galway because of his prowess with the launcher!"

"A lot of good that's done us!"

The young man raised an arm to silence the group surrounding him.

"Talud's right. I've wasted our efforts. But we couldn’t have known they’d have deck officers talented enough to shoot rockets out of the sky."

Two of the deck officers in particular were proving troublesome, both displaying extraordinary understandings of rocket trajectories. Pair that with their uncanny level of composure and they almost seemed infallible. Almost. But those officers were human just like they were. They too were prone to making mistakes and accumulating fatigue. Ammo would have to be a factor this late in the route as well.

Fortunately for them C248 also appeared to be caught in some sort of confrontation with Quiet Murn's remaining forces, granted this hadn’t stopped them from intercepting the previous rocket. A rocket Galway had put some serious thought into, purposely aiming high so the rocket might contact the strong side of the Crusader on the opposite side end the formation. But being elected as the rocketeer meant having a short memory. He couldn't afford to obsess over the near misses, only how he'd go about improving the odds of hitting next shot.

"We're out of time, just fire both in quick succession at the same Crusader!"

The disgruntled carpenter apprentice gestured towards C217.

"We'll target the rear, they should be hurting the most!"

"The raiding party already destroyed that cargo. Beside, the launcher requires a minimal amount of time between shots to cool down or it'll overheat. It's more prone now that we've fired so many rockets."

Regrettably the RED they'd acquired over the black market was an older model. They hadn't been able to afford anything else even with all their meagre savings pulled together. Hence their attempt at finding a confidential sponsor who’d support their cause. But the sponsors they'd reached out to preferred the more surefire method of hiring a raiding party to destroy the cargo. They’d doubted how effective a force comprised of university students and other young people could be against trained professionals.

It would seem those doubts weren't unfounded after all, as the faction found itself quickly running out of both rockets and options. Branded as terrorists they couldn't simply cut their losses and head home. All they had left was buying enough time for their comrades in the various administrative sectors to challenge the recent ruling. And sacrifices had already been made towards that end. Failure wasn't an option.

"Bring us around, we’re changing up out strategy.”

"What are you—?!"

"The terrain. The raiders used it to their advantage earlier, so we’ll do the same."

Those Cinnabark wouldn't reach New Kantler at any cost.

*

After a tackle from the side took his feet out from under him, Heenan briefly jockeyed with his attacker for leverage. In truth he was buying time for an opening, waiting for the raider to rise somewhat in pursuit of better positioning. Once he did Heenan grabbed a hold of the fabric around his chest and dropped his weight downwards, planting one foot into the man's abdomen at the same time. This allowed his kick to guide the raider’s momentum up and over him. Releasing the man's clothes he watched from his back as the raider flew a short ways and struck the back deck's railing.

Heenan rolled onto his stomach and prepared to spring up again when the sudden presence of a boot between his shoulder blades prevented him. The sound of a shot rang out just above him, coinciding with the raider’s head snapping backwards violently. The boot was promptly removed from his back and a hand was extended to help him up. The hand of one Evan Browder.

"Sorry about that. In my experience the chatty types tend to have glass jaws so I kind of wrote him off."

He accepted her hand and hoisted himself up, before reaching down to collect the rifle he’d dropped.

"And here I thought you were going to apologize for standing on your commanding officer."

"Would you have preferred an apology for shooting you in the back?"

Understanding the question as rhetorical, Heenan scanned the deck for signs of Quiet Murn's party leader.

"Where's Quay?"

Another quick scan.

"And Officer Ayfer?"

Prior to Evan’s answer a head belonging to C248's communications officer popped out from the doorway beside them.

"She's on the roof again."

Ms. Villard's tone implied she was fed up with this behavior, and Heenan's powers of deduction concluded it must involve a proclivity for scaling the bridge needlessly.

"The roof it is then."

But before Browder could take another step, he blocked her with an outstretched arm.

"The last thing we need is more bodies running around a small surface area with no tether point or alternate safety precautions. We'll assist from down here."

Heenan rushed towards the rear of the Crusader, motioning for the deck officer to follow. And sure enough they were able to make out both Ayfer and Quay facing off atop the bridge. From what they could tell Lux appeared to have a stone slab tucked underneath one arm while her the other held her rifle. Shooting it like that would be difficult though. So in place of the sharpshooter the two on deck raised their own rifles and took careful aim. Whatever the context, the party leader was obviously distracted. Save for any sudden movements the distance between both individuals warranted taking at least one shot.

"Hold on."

Heenan responded without turning his head or adjusting his rifle's sights.

"What is it?"

"You might have hit him earlier, but I missed multiple times under far more favorable circumstances than this."

That did warrant turning his head.

"What are you saying?"

"That shooting this fucker might not be as straightforward as we think. Even Lux missed earlier."

It was certainly uncharacteristic for both officers to miss, more so for such a large target. But it had been a long day with no shortage of visits. The abherrant misses could easily come down to weariness of the mind and body.

"Are you insinuating that this is some sort of trap? Or is this about conserving ammunition, because neither of us are so inept that we'd endanger Ayfer."

"Pfft, as if she needs any help endangering herself. I'm just making it known that something doesn't add up about this guy."

That much was true. What did Guell Quay have to gain by facing off with all of them on the deck anyway. From Heenan's understanding the man had snuck onboard, to the extent he made it to the bridge unopposed. Making it to the cargo bay would have been much easier in comparison. Once he was there he needed only toss a few canisters inside and the job would have been done. Instead he'd opted to engage the crew, earning himself a broken arm and a fresh bullet wound in the process.

"Assuming that's true, our chances of shooting him are still better than our chances of shooting a rocket out of the air."

A tentative silence.

"I'm over it. On your mark."

Heenan's attention shifted back to the top of the bridge where an animated conversation appeared to be taking place. So heated in fact that both parties were unconsciously taking steps towards one another. Best to nip this confrontation in the bud, prolonged interaction between these two held potentially dire consequences for the entire convoy. But just as he was about to make the call to shoot, Lux abruptly released her hold of the slab and produced a bayonet from somewhere beneath her uniform jacket.

The party leader wasn't above waiting for the blade to be fastened in place and swung his weapon in an upward arc.

"Mark!"

Browder fired first, targeting the shoulder joint of Quay's still functioning arm. In response Quay released the blade at the apex of his swing and lowered the position of his body, fluidly reclaiming it from the air with the same hand he dropped it with. His new position allowing him to deflect the bullet’s trajectory downwards into the bridge.

Using the time afforded to her by the shot, Lux finished fastening the bayonet to the end of her rifle and rotated it 180 degrees. Jabbing the rifle downwards at the raider who was now crouched around waist high. Hesitation presented itself in the leader's movements then, self-preservation kicking in as a result of the accumulated damage.

For his part Heenan continued to watch from down sights but refrained from taking any shots of his own. He wanted to leave a bulk of that responsibility to Browder, owing to her young eyes and more defined rapport with Officer Ayfer. He'd save his bullets for any attempts at an escape. He’d hate for their guest to leave without being served a dessert to compliment the entrée in his shoulder blade. Heenan signaled Evan to fire once again.

"Mark!"

*

"Reporting in, the rocketeer and his escort have pulled back and are now running parallel west of the convoy."

"Fox still in its hole?"

"Affirmative, and we don't have the resources to flush him out."

"Our guys will see what they can do about that, your focus should be on keeping Scholz unencumbered."

"We're getting swarmed Flannery, we won't have much of choice at this—"

The incessant sounds of tapping suddenly filled the bridge, enough to cause Reefe to wince from his position by the side window. The purpose of the taps to summon bridge-goers to the speaking tubes. In this case the tube connecting to the main corridor.

"Give me a moment."

Reefe moved over to the speaking tube in question but found himself hesitating to lift the lid, the tapping showing no signs of abating as he did so. A lump formed in his throat as he brought a hand up. It was as if he could feel the message being sent down his arm in real time giving his hand instructions on how to proceed. In response to the hail, his hand did eventually manage to swing the lid open quickly. He listened. Immediately the sounds of struggle reverberated up the tube and spilled out onto the bridge.

"Bridge speaking—"

"Reefe! We need bodies down here NOW!"

The urgency in Everage's voice snapped him out of whatever well of panic he'd been in the process of falling into.

"Hold on! We're on our way!"

His eyes flew from the pilot, who wore an uneasy expression not unlike his own, to the doorway leading out to the back deck. Youn and Leora's current whereabouts. No. You heard Flannery. We need Leora to focus on the rocketeer! And she'll need her spotter!

"Fuck..."

Reefe looked around the bridge for moment before his gaze landed on the gun safe. Rushing over he squatted down and began punching in the code to open it, only to be denied entry. He tried again to no avail before mentally admonishing himself. That's the code from the last convoy, pull it together Reefe! Punching in the correct code, he grabbed one of the rifles along with every box of available ammo.

He scrambled to load the magazine and flicked the safety off before hustling over to the ladder way. He stopped short of descending. Dropping down onto the stairs of the strong side would be better. Using the ladder could expose him to enemies camping the corridor junction, or those attempting to gain entry to the cargo bay. Not wanting to risk it Reefe hopped over the ladder way and made a left after emerging onto the back deck.

Extending his head over the railing the CO made sure no enemies were present on the stairs or platform before hoisting himself up and over. Landing awkwardly Reefe immediately heard various cries coming from the doorway ahead, some of which he recognized as members of the crew. He crossed over the platform and posted up at the doorway, clutching the rifle to his chest.

It couldn’t be understated how dangerous it was to introduce another firearm into a close quarters melee. While friendly fire remained a very real possibility, he was more concerned about an enemy ripping the weapon from his hands as they were both slick from sweat and shaky. Perhaps loading the rifle had been a mistake and relying on the threat it posed would have been more effective. That or he could have relied on it purely as a melee weapon. But there was no point second guessing things literally a step away from the conflict, so Reefe found his courage and stepped into the corridor. And what he saw matched the image that had been forming in his head.

A tangle of bodies and limbs packed the corridor, among them Everage’s form was the first he was able to make out. The sturdy engineer appeared to have a raider in a head lock while his other arm repeatedly struck the side of another’s ribs. He’d obviously been at odds with party members for awhile if the state of his face and arms were anything to go by.

Past this initial group, on the opposite side of the corridor, he could see Preece desperately trying to raise his rifle to get a shot off on his attackers. They remained steady in their defiance of the security officer however, with one using both hands to keep the rifle pointed at the floor. Another alternated between trying to squeeze past the pair and striking Preece in the face or chest. But something about Preece’s predicament struck him as odd.

It suddenly occurred to Reefe that these attackers couldn't possibly be raiders as they had no firearms, bucklers, body armor, or equipment consistent with a boarding party. Their close combat skill also appeared tentative at best, more reliant on grappling the enemy until fatigue set in.

Members of the anti-faith faction then, Reefe imagined they must of snuck on at the tail end of the approach. But civilian or not, that didn't change the fact they were attacking his comrades. They’d need to be dealt with after the raiders. Raising the rifle he took aim at the party members assaulting Everage first, searching for a shot that wouldn't injure the engineer. Sensing Reefe's intention Everage mustered the strength to push both men to one side of the corridor.

"Help Preece!"

Reefe knew better than to waste time arguing and raced for the opening, but just as he was about to bypass it someone else appeared. A woman. They'd been lying in wait behind the corner of the junction till now and jumped out in an effort to push him back. And based on attire she too belonged to the faction. It crossed Reefe’s mind that the woman may have already tried but failed to reach the Cinnabark in the cargo bay. As unlike raiding parties who had the tools and know-how to force entry, faction members lacked both the experience and equipment to do the same. Another sign of how desperate they were becoming the closer the convoy got to Belveer.

Realizing she didn’t possess the size or strength to overpower him the woman changed tactics and resorted to claw at his face. To dissuade her Reefe held the woman at arms length and continued to press forward. That’s when one of the men Everage was trying to subdue changed his target and engaged him from the side, successfully pressing him up against the corridor wall and halting his progress. The thought of discharging his weapon did occur to Reefe but ran too many risks, what with the likelihood of having his aim thrown off. Doubling his efforts to force his way forward, Reefe chanced another look down the corridor to check on Preece's condition.

He could see that the one man had finally succeeded in squeezing past the two wrestling over control of the rifle. But rather than head his direction or the direction of the cargo bay, he did a one-eighty and pulled a previously concealed knife from his back pocket.

"Knife!"

He had no choice, so Reefe threw caution into the wind and attempted to fire several shots at the exposed back of the would-be attacker. Attempting to do so one handed while struggling against multiple people caused many of the shots to fly errantly. With all but one ricocheting off the adjoining walls before they could reach their target. The one successful shot managing to embed itself in the man's upper right arm.

The man cried out in pain and the knife fell to the floor. At the same time the women in front of him ceased her assault on his person in favor of placing both hands on the barrel of his rifle, she proceeded to aim the end of the barrel directly at her own forehead. Reefe stared into the eyes of the quivering woman, stunned, as silent tears began to spill down her cheeks. He then panicked upon noticing the man he'd shot moving to pick up the knife he'd dropped with his uninjured arm.

"Preece, turn around! Preece!"

It was no use, Preece couldn't turn around or defend himself properly without releasing his hold on the rifle which would put him in just as much if not more trouble. Behind him Reefe could vaguely hear something being slammed into the wall repeatedly but couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding at the opposite end of the corridor. Growing desperate Reefe tried to wrestle the barrel out of the woman's hands but couldn't manage it with only one arm. The other still pinned by the raider beside him. He fixed his gaze back on the woman.

"Let go...I need you to let go now!"

The woman only screwed her eyes shut and continued her efforts to keep the barrel pointed at her own head. All as the man behind her moved to jump on Preece from behind. There was no time, he'd have to shoot this woman. This "terrorist" who only hours earlier had been nothing more than a civilian of New Kantler exercising her right to protest what she believed to be a violation of the city's ordinance. One that threatened its future. Who weeks before that had likely been a university student, studying hard to graduate and enjoying what free time she did have alongside classmates.

But that was gone now. Her and so many others had lost everything they'd built up over the course of an afternoon, leaving them with nothing to lose. The idea of sacrificing themselves here, for a cause they believed in, probably seemed like the best they could hope for in their young naive minds. Reefe looked at the young mind in front of him and made a final desperate plea.

"Please..."

More tears fell and her hands shook violently, but the woman refused to open her eyes. Refused to meet his gaze.

Reefe's felt the erraticness of his breathing and the pounding of his heartbeat as a finger found its way onto trigger of his rifle. It had to be now if he wanted any hope of saving the young security officer. So he told his finger to do it. To pull the trigger. To end this woman's life. But it never came to pass.

Rather than pull the trigger his finger slid down helplessly, the rest of his hand remaining tightly wound around the grip of the rifle. He couldn't do it. Not now, not to some scared young girl who’d been backed into a corner and didn't know better.

And so he and Everage could only watch and shout threats as the tip of the blade was driven into the top of Preece's shoulder girdle multiple times from behind. A sputtering noise came out of Preece then, his lungs filling with blood, and echoed down the corridor. Whether out of pain or confusion they’d never know. As his body lost its strength and fell to the ground dead.

A fresh bout of rage overcame Everage in that moment and he managed to bull over the human barrier smothering him. He tackled Preece's killer to the ground and proceeded to bash his head in with the stock of the rifle the other faction member had been too stunned to recover. Instead fleeing out the weak side doorway once they came to their senses.

Now free from the side presence, Reefe easily threw the woman aside and put a bullet into the raider who taken the brunt of Everage’s fury. Rather than stand again the woman curled into a ball where she’d landed and began to cry again. Reefe joined her on the floor, falling to his knees at the junction of the corridor. He watched on lifelessly as Everage got up off the now dead faction member and went about trying to stem the already deceased security officer’s bleeding. Why did this happen? None of them had asked for this.

Amidst everything happening Reefe somehow managed to respond to Flannery’s voice coming from the headset.

"Reefe what’s going on?! What happened to Officer Dweller?! Report!"

His voice shuddered as he made the report to the head communications officer.

"The intruders on C384's lower level have been taken care of, Officer Dweller was KIA...returning to bridge now..."