The Majors' voice came over the squad comm. "Aft boarding party, good hunting."

Lieutenant Muranaga replied. "Bulldogs on the move." He then switched to the squad channel, his name flashing green as he spoke. "Alright, Reilly up - you got fifteen seconds to find the manual override, Roberts get the master key ready just in case. Laroy, airlock's got the ring set, yeah?"

There were nods all around. Gryzzk looked down and found the right switch controlling his shotgun safety - it felt satisfying to move it to the dangerous setting. All of the emotions of the past few minutes faded as he felt and realized that despite being tagged as an observer, he had a responsibility to do something to keep these people safe. It was ridiculous on the face of it; these were all combat veterans of innumerable battles, and he was a Lead Servant. Certainly he'd never fought anyone. But at the same time, he'd been entrusted with things and his duty now was to keep these Terrans safe.

Relatively.

The lieutenant made a pointing motion with his hand, and Laroy pulled a lever. There was a small thud as springs released, and a small vibration came through the deck plate. A green light double-flashed on Gryzzks' visor and he was shoved to the wall by Edwards.

Edwards' name flashed yellow on the comm to indicate they were speaking privately as she spoke to him. "Stick close to me, and don't throw any shots until you know what you're shooting at." Then she looked back as Reilly leaned left, leaned right, and extracted a tool from her kit.

Laroy opened the airlock hatch to reveal that the two ships were connected by a pressurized tube – at the end Gryzzk saw that there was some sort of metal ring around the other ship, and it looked almost like the ring had melted with the outer hull. Reilly was sprinting through before the hatch had opened and twisting to land feet-first on the hatch and doing...something with the tool she'd extracted. There was a vibration down the tube as the rest of the squad was moving to join Reilly. Gryzzk felt rather than heard the click as Reilly was able to move the hatch to an open position.

She slipped through and promptly fell up to the ceiling – at least that was how it looked to Gryzzk. The rest of the squad took their cue from her and re-oriented to the local ships' gravity field as they moved through the tube like a pack of predator birds. Gryzzk swam a bit before Edwards twisted him unceremoniously around, but he was able to fall downward – relatively speaking. Gryzzk took one last look back at the hatch they'd left from to see that it was sealed behind them before he hit the deck in an unceremonious tumble.

Muranaga was already making hand-motions to maneuver the squad to positions as Gryzzk had a flash of recognition that was more than just the gravity being closer to what he was used to. He craned his neck around a lot to be certain before tapping Muranaga urgently on the shoulder.

The yellow private channel flashed around Muranagas' name. "Be quick, whatever it is."

Gryzzks' reply was rapid. "I know this ship type. It's one that Vilantians use to haul cargo. Where do they need to go?"

"Engineering first, then to the bridge." There was a large unspoken question in Muranagas' reply.

"This way." Gryzzk was happy to be useful to these people who'd given a great deal of themselves, their time, and their culture. It was about time he repaid their generosity by showing them the ship. He took the lead, moving forward and pointing where they were to go before going there first. Gryzzk was struck by the sheer emptiness of the ship with regard to the crew complement, and similarly struck by the fullness of the ship with regard to stuff. Every spare space was filled with items, some not recognizable, some too recognizable.

About halfway through the hall to engineering was their first resistance. A furred hand came around a corner and started randomly firing at them, causing loud sparks and ricochets to flare everywhere. Gryzzk got low rapidly as Reilly jumped over him, launching and twisting again with her own pistol working and firing three times. And a slumped body with voided liquids gave a final thumping. Gryzzk was grateful to the dead gods that his armor was airtight. Being unable to smell death made it less real, like he was watching a recording - once he'd left, part of his mind said the director would call the scene complete, and the actor would stand and be congratulated for exceptional dedication to being a nameless dead extra. Gryzzk took a closer look and didn't like anything of what he saw.

It was a Hurdop. But it was also another Vilantian, scarred and newly marked with three holes in his neck from Reilly, nearly decapitating him. But the worst was yet to come, as the sleeveless tunic exposed patches of furless skin on the shoulders of the corpse. Four triangles on both of the shoulders to symbolize the dead gods consuming a soul, and as some sort of perverse insult, ink decorations emphasized each triangle.

Muranagas' voice came over the comm. "Something we should know?"

Gryzzk forced himself to steady as he saw the end result of his future. "Those brands. He was an exile. Nameless, but from one of the older clans – the ancient way of casting someone out was to strip the arm of fur so that it would never regrow and apply a brand to the arm. If they wanted to rejoin another clan they would have to cut their arm off. With both arms? No clan would take someone like that." As he spoke, he began feeling something well up inside of him - something hot and intense, primal. Like the sensation he felt on the firing range, multiplied. There was an old beast in an old cage within Gryzzks' soul. And the lock on that cage was worn to near dust by freshly learned revelations of betrayal. Of a game so well-played by his exalted Lord that Gryzzk hadn't even considered that it would be a trap until he'd been caught to serve his Lord one last time with his metaphorical demise. And there was the possibility that his Lord had meant the demise to be literal as well.

The lock weakened more.

There was a tap on his shoulder from Reilly. Her name flashed green as she spoke on the squad channel. "History lesson later. Directions now, Mister Gryzzk. Please."

Gryzzk nodded, pointing the way to Engineering before setting off in that direction.

The next resistance was in Engineering itself as a dozen more Hurdop in grease-stained but sleeveless overalls were rigging up something – their leader was directing them and looked back to see Gryzzk and the rest of the squad coming in and taking their positions.

The leader smiled, seeing Gryzzks' nameplate and barked out to his fellows. "Vilantian! Take and train - Terrans kill-skin, don't need weak meat for food."

The lock sundered as Muranaga and his squad opened fire. The beast leaped free as Gryzzks' world went red, voices went distant, and all was fire as he leaped forward, his trigger finger fluttering the mechanism to bring forth death to any in front of it. He saw the leader fall, and then another, and yet another, and then the mechanism refused to fire again, simply making a click. Some part of him whispered that it was time to reload, but was ignored by the bestial part that was in command. It was time to use the shotgun in an alternate manner. He flipped the shotgun around to grab it by the barrel and started swinging wildly, the stock connecting with a sound that was almost pleasant – a little was good, but more was better. He continued, ignoring the faint noises from his earpiece until he was lifted off the ground and hugged from behind.

The world slowly started regaining color and sound as Gryzzk panted heavily for a few moments, and a final exhalation. "I'm...okay. Well, not, but I'm okay."

Gryzzk was slowly dropped to the deck and noticed a pain in his knee. The armor seemed intact, so logic dictated that he had moved in some wrong way. Laroy and Reilly were watching the door, while the other three stood around him, the visors making their expressions unreadable. The engine room itself made no vibration, its reactors and drive core silenced.

Roberts was the first to speak. "So that was interesting, but Valhalla can [bzzt]'ing wait, you damn Viking wannabe."

Muranaga cleared his throat. "Right. So. Mister Gryzzks' issued weapon is now combat ineffective. Who's got a loaner? Give it up and then we move."

Reilly flicked a finger up, reaching behind her back. "This is my emotional support shotgun. You break it, you will owe me." With that, she handed Gryzzk a shotgun. "Just remember to reload when it clicks."

Muranaga nodded. "Bulldogs, move it out. Gryzzk, directions to the bridge."

Gryzzk nodded, composing himself before moving. It felt odd in the moment, but somehow Gryzzk sensed a change - he couldn't articulate it, but it was there. Somehow in the midst of all that had happened, there was something different in the Terran attitude. Or his. Some of the things they were doing made more sense now - Reilly was small as Terrans went, so she was first, following him as their eyes. Edwards was a large one, and so her place was in the rear to shield their back. Laroy was the arms that threw bolts of death from afar, and Roberts was their legs, always driving forward to greater things. And behind it all, Muranaga, the mind that guided.

As he walked them forward to the bridge, the dark thing within him had retired back to its cage, growling a lullaby of blood and death that kept rhythm with Gryzzks' pulse. Empty hallways finally gave way to a door irised shut.

Gryzzk knelt down in the middle of the door, murmuring "This is the bridge entry."

Reilly moved around the door with her breaching tool, examining it. "Comm panel, looks like. No opening mechanism. Probably a last-stand sort of thing."

Muranaga grunted. "Roberts, get the master key ready. Gryzzk, can you work this so that we can talk?"

Both Roberts and Gryzzk went to their tasks. First Roberts lined the inside of the iris with a thin line of something, then retraced it with what looked to be a foam sealant. Finally he stuck a small silver spike into it, with a faint yellow light winking. After that he retreated back several steps and took a small control from his side pocket and waited.

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Gryzzk went to the comm panel and examined it. It was a fairly standard design for Vilantia, and he thumbed the proper section of the panel.

Muranaga leaned into the panel before speaking. "Commander of the Glorious Purpose, this is Lieutenant Muranaga of the Bravo Bulldogs, stationed aboard the Voided Warranty. Your ships' company has been killed. You still have options. First option is that you lay down arms and open this door. If you do, you'll be placed into our custody and remanded to a penal colony pending trial. You'll be assigned legal counsel and given a chance to explain your actions. You may even have an opportunity to serve on a ship. Second option is that you say something bold and defiant, we open the door for you and then we have the ship moved to a parking orbit. After which the ship'll be cleaned, sold at auction, and the credits from the sale disbursed to the crew. Your call, what's it going to be?"

There was a long silence before a reply. "My crew was loyal to me. I will be loyal and join my crew where the dead gods dwell."

Muranaga nodded out of habit. "If it helps, I'd do the same." He then stepped back and made a pointing motion with his first two fingers.

Roberts flipped a retaining ring on the control he was holding and depressed. The explosion was small, the effect dramatic. The door-pieces simply fell clattering to the ground, revealing a Hurdop (or Vilantian by a different name) with a small pistol in hand. He took a breath and saw Gryzzks' helmet shape was different, and saw the nameplate as a Vilantian.

"Traitor!" The captain was fast enough to snap a single shot off, catching Gryzzk at the joint of his shoulder armor. Searing hot pain lanced through his left side and bloomed, forcing him to a knee. The entire squad fired as one, every weapon discharging to make a ruin of the bridge with the remains of the commander.

Gryzzk blinked through the pain and stood to take a long breath, holding his shoulder with his good hand. "That...what was that?"

The smile on Reillys' face could be heard through the comm channel. "Mister Gryzzk, have you ever heard of the Tragedy of Iosef Tarasov?"

"I...have not." Gryzzks voice was strained, trying to keep the anguish in – it was unseemly for a Lead Servant to be anything less than proper. Recent events notwithstanding.

"Well, now I know what I'm picking when the movie night vote hits." Reilly went through Gryzzks' belt pouch, selecting a small cylinder and jamming it in near the area where he'd been hit. She depressed a button, and Gryzzks' pain went to a dull manageable ache. "We got a few things to do yet, but the doc'll be waiting when we get back."

Gryzzk stood, blinking through the haze of pain mixed with painkillers and looked over the controls to determine if he could figure out what was what. Even though everything was labeled in Vilantian, the verbiage was quite foreign to him. Meanwhile, the rest of the squad had taken up positions to form a barrier for any Hurdop personnel that may have been lingering. Lieutenant Muranaga was talking to someone, if his posture could be read properly. Finally the right panel was found and activated for Muranaga to speak to the whole ship.

The lieutenant leaned closer to the comm panel. "Attention all surviving personnel of the Glorious Purpose. Please be advised that your drive core has been shut down, and will need to be towed to a docking facility. You may surrender, and you will be given proper treatment per the Contact Armistice and remanded to custody once our contract has been fulfilled. We are going to begin patrolling the ship after this message has ended. If you wish to signal your surrender, take a seated position with your hands folded behind your head. Thank you." He closed the communication channel and looked back. "Alright. Let's move out."

As they moved back through the ship, they were met with more personnel from the Voided Warranty. Now that the ship had been secured, it was time to methodically search. Additional squads came over to ensure the ship could still move, update necessary codes to allow the ship to be claimed as salvage, and all the other mundane tasks that went with boarding and capturing a vessel.

A medic came with the squads to attend to Gryzzk's shoulder, and when Gryzzk refused to go back to the ship for further evaluation shook his head and muttered an oath. Gryzzk made a note to ask Muranaga later if the phrase "Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick" was good or bad.

Muranaga and the rest of the squad moved to check the cargo hold proper. Gryzzk felt a movement through the deck plating and called for a halt. The rest of the squad paused and took position while Muranaga remained still, waiting for the vibration. And there it was again. And again. It was annoying, he couldn't smell anything – he was going to have to do something about that. For now, the expedient measure needed to be taken.

He flipped his visor open and started sniffing the air. For a moment he wished he hadn't as the air was thick with rust and rot. But under it, there was a faint scent coming from a cargo container. It smelled Vilantian, and carried a pure fear to it. The container looked to be locked from the outside, but there was something inside, and it was moving.

Gryzzk lowered his visor and explained – the squad looked to Muranaga, who placed people above and on level with Reilly and Gryzzk. Reilly worked the lock and then they both opened the container with only a minor twinge in Gryzzks' knee. Then the brought light to the darkness.

Inside the container was trash. Piles upon piles. Discarded food packs long since licked clean, liquid bottles dried of all moisture, oily rags, broken tools, and a small bucket for waste. Gryzzk took in the sight and began to doubt his nose.

"Seriously, Gryz? You got us all worked up for nothing." As if to make an immediate liar of Reilly, one of the bundles of rags exploded with a tiny form that ran straight toward them, shrieking madly to escape the large armored forms in front.

There was an almighty crash of deck plating as two pairs of armored boots landed from above and the squad coalesced in the opening to form a wall. It didn't help calm the form down as it darted to and fro, backing up to the refuse bucket. Gryzzk and Reilly we able to see what was going to happen next and Gryzzk ducked while Reilly tackled the form before it could throw the bucket contents at the two of them and maybe catch them off-guard. The form began howling, muzzle upturned and lungs full. It was enough that the audio dampeners kicked in on Gryzzks' helmet.

Reilly was grunting with effort. "Squirmy little...what the hell is this thing?!" The oily rags that were this things' bedding and clothing were not making it easy for Reilly to gain purchase.

Gryzzk took a closer look, lifting his visor for a closer look and bracing himself against the shrieking that was about to hit. "It's a child. Reilly, it's a Vilantian child. Let me...try." As he lifted his visor, there was a blinking from the child as it recognized a face that wasn't alien or covered in reflective material. The child struggled and launched into Gryzzks' arms, its entire body shivering in cold and fear. Gryzzk settled on the floor, blocking out the scent around him and tried comforting. First he leaned forward to check to see if there was any scent he could recognize. He didn't smell a familiar clan under the layers of oil and ship-grunge, but he did smell that the child was female. Instincts of a sort kicked in as Gryzzk began rocking back and forth, massaging one ear and then the other as he sang an old clan lullaby softly.

"The night grows dark but the fire still warms

Tended by the Wood-Wise as is their form.

The dead gods laugh, the living gods tend

The Air-Wise makes both of them a friend.

The animals rest and the plants grow strong

Tended by the Earth-wise where they belong.

The well is full and the water runs sweet

The Water-wise walks the way with gentle feet.

For all my little ones on this fair night

The All-wise see the land with their far sight,

The dreamland calls for all to not be late,

Sleep now little ones to see your fate."

As Gryzzk was singing softly, the shivering stopped, and the girl looked up. "You sing Papa-songs."

Gryzzk nodded. "I have a little girl at home, she might be your age. Her name's Gro'zel, what's yours?"

The girl glanced around before looking back to Gryzzk. "Nhoot. My name is Nhoot."

"Nhoot, these are my...my friends. We'd like to take you somewhere to get you clean, get you some clothes, and get you somewhere safe. And after that we'll have to find out more. But for now, lets get you clean. I have to close this for a moment to talk to my friends, okay?" Gryzzk stood, with a little wince as his knee reminded him what a fool he'd been.

As soon as his visor closed, the squad channel was full of chatter from everyone.

"Where's the shower on this heap? That kid needs a scrubbing and quick. Get Granmama Thibedeauxs' lye soap on her." Laroy was direct.

Reilly was similarly direct. "How the hell'd you do that, the kid was the squirmiest little thing I've ever wrestled!"

"I liked the song, Gryz. Good melody. Are there other ones?" Roberts' assessment wasn't wholly outside what he would have expected but the underlying praise was there.

"Effective." And Edwards' terse verbiage also carried faint praise.

"At ease." Muranaga cut the chatter with the two magic words. "While Gryz was trying out for opera and the rest of you were holding the walls up I got the major updated on the situation. We are to find the nearest shower, clean up Nhoot, pillage this tub for clothes that fit, and bring her back on board and get her quartered."

"Mebbe she should stay with y'all, non?" Laroy cheerfully spoke the squads' mind.

"We'll let the Major figure that out. Now, Mister Gryzzk, can you guide us toward where the commanders' quarters would be on this bucket?" Muranaga made a gesture to indicate it was in fact time to move out.

They wound their way through with Gryzzk carrying Nhoot the whole way - it wasn't exactly far, as the majority of the ship was a repurposed cargo hold. Crew quarters were minimalist, but the Commanders' room was opulent - relative to the rest of the ship. The water controls were standard for Vilantia, and Nhoot hopped in and shut the door to the shower. As the water ran on, there was a pang of jealousy in Gryzzks' heart. He missed having a long shower after a long day of caring for Lord A'kifab. It was one of a long list of things he was going to miss, he realized. Whatever happened after this, returning to service was not a future option. He was going to have to find his way for the sake of his family, and he had precious few skills outside of servitude.

The thoughts disappeared as he realized the squad was tossing the commanders quarters for clean clothes and having a general discussion regarding the former commanders' fashion sense or lack thereof. Gryzzk coughed a bit. "If I may...?"

Muranaga nodded. "Whatcha got?"

Gryzzk flipped his visor up. "Vilantians, we are very scent-oriented. Color is not all." He found three sleeveless shirts in a neutral gray color and sniffed each of them, before selecting one. "This one. It smells the least like the ship."

Nods and shrugs were the reply, and the rest of the squad went back to ransacking for a trophy. Knickknacks were found, taken, and Muranaga busied himself with being on a call with the Major with an update.

Nhoot came out of the shower with the shirt draped over her form. The entire squad hitched a breath in to keep from saying anything, as now that she was free of grime and grunge, she looked like a chow-chow puppy with a pug nose along with the standard bipedal walk and three pairs of purple eyes. She went directly to Gryzzk and latched on without a word to the rest of the squad.

The return was uneventful, as a new connecting tube had been put in place, along with an air curtain that was working mightily to keep the smell contained but the tube itself was still a zero-g area, as a hastily scrawled notice indicated. The far end of the transit tube had an arrow to indicate where they needed to orient to be 'down' when they landed, which Gryzzk was pleased to see. Each squad member called out their transit and launched, moving gracefully. Gryzzk picked up Nhoot and launched with what he thought was the right amount of force. As they went through the tube, he heard Nhoot gasp and crane her neck around.

"So many stars..."

For Gryzzk the transit was an eternity, as he struggled to orient properly. Edwards was a godsend yet again, helping them land more gracefully than last time.

Muranaga assembled the squad. "Good job. Now we've got fifteen minutes to get clean, get dressed, and get in front of the major for a debrief. Dismissed."

There was grumbling as they departed, with Reilly hanging back for a moment to match pace with Gryzzk. Nhoot seemed a bit more relaxed with the new environment, walking next to Gryzzk instead of clutching him closely.

"Gryz." Reilly swallowed, appearing to search for the right words. "Look at her shoulders. I saw her coming out of the shower."

Gryzzk looked down. Nhoots' shoulders had been shaved, and both carried the branded scars of the Nameless.