One hour earlier.

Serra’s return to consciousness was strangely peaceful, arising from confused and nebulous dreams to blinking awake in the dim light of a strangely furnished room. Several System windows were flashing for her attention, but she was still sealed tightly within her battlesuit. Despite the suit’s protection Serra noticed a subtle but constant drain on her accessible aether, keeping her just at the cusp of being able to activate her abilities. She also had a slight but uncomfortable headache, indicative of her low aether state.

“Angel?” She subvocalized cautiously, careful to keep herself still as she tried to make sense of her surroundings.

“You have awakened, Miss Serra,” Her chirpy AI immediately answered. “Angel was so worried.”

“What happened to me?” Serra asked, noting that each of her limbs were bound by glyph-stitched leather onto the surface she was lying on. Could this be the source of her aether drain? “And why am I trussed up like a wuumvray cub for the regimental mess?”

“Big worm thing dropped itself on you, Miss Serra.” Angel explained. “Then many notifications appeared, showing you had been affected by a Gharun Spawn toxin causing paralysis, null aether gain, and unconsciousness status effects. Angel tried so hard to wake you but could only wait until the timer on the effects ran down.”

“So, the timer eventually ran down?”

“No, Miss Serra,” Angel replied cheerfully, despite the concerning content of her words. “Twenty-five minutes and twenty-three seconds ago a large amount of healing aether was infused into your body, removing the Gharun Spawn toxin. It has taken your body this long to recover enough for you to awaken.”

“I see.”

As she had been trained to do, Serra carefully moved her head from side to side, looking through the eye slits of her crowned helmet and studying the room she found herself in. It was, in many ways, similar to the state room aboard the Predator that she had once occupied. Privacy curtains sectioned off the room into several distinct areas, but the largest seemed to be the one where Serra was being held. Strange, alien instruments were either hanging from the ceiling or ranged beside the bed she was laid out on, most of which were arrayed around her bed with dimmed hardlight screens showing various readouts, glowing multi-colored lines that jiggled and wavered with each breath and movement that Serra made. If she had to guess, Serra would have classified them as some sort of medical monitoring devices. Equally possible was that they were instruments of forceful interrogation, since she knew from painful experience that the overlap between medicine and torture could be very broad indeed.

Unfortunately, the room she was being held in was decidedly hot and humid, something she could detect via her external environmental sensors despite being protected from any ill-effects by her suit. That small, odd detail was all it took to make Serra think that although she was being treated for her injuries, she was not exactly a free woman, since in her admittedly narrow experience, medical recovery rooms were usually carefully environmentally-controlled to be within optimum human comfort margins. Which probably also meant one other thing: Her captors were not humans.

Warily keeping her eyes on the door, Serra began testing her bonds, slowly increasing the pressure until the aether-strengthened bindings creaked but did not break.

< Jakobin, can you hear me? >

< Captain? > Relief flooded Serra’s system as the Squad-Net came to life, sending the monitors wild for a moment until Serra could get her emotions under control. < What’s the situation? Why I am I being held captive? >

< Glad to hear your voice soldier, > Despite her situation, the relief and concern she heard in her commander’s gruff voice was still a welcome sound, although she detected a hint of stress and maybe something more. Understandable, given the circumstances. < You’ve been out for a while: Pig noticed your vitals spike as you gained consciousness, so I decided to try and make contact. >

< Thank Pig for me, Captain! > Serra said appreciatively. < What’s the plan? >

< I’m on task for your retrieval while the others create a distraction; ETA your location about twenty minutes if things go well, > The Captain’s voice was confident and firm, helping Serra calm down even more. Twenty minutes wasn’t long, all things considered. < In the meantime, try to get as much information as you can while making sure you’re safe. >

< Roger that, Captain. >

< Good. > Was all she got in return before the communication was cut off.

The bed creaked softly as Serra adjusted her position to a more comfortable one, undeniably cheered by the knowledge that her friends were coming to get her. She’d be sure to get the story of how she got here from the others later, because she sure as hell couldn’t remember anything after the horror of being engulfed by several tons of liquified giant caterpillar.

“Someone comes.”

Even as Angel warned her, a squat xenoform with decidedly amphibian features entered the room, likely alerted by the monitors.

Serra gave a grunt of surprise as the three-meter tall frog creature walked towards one of the bulky machines by her bedside, its huge bulbous eyes seemingly focused on studying the readouts being displayed on the hardlight screens. Fascinated by the xenoform’s exotic appearance, Serra watched as the creature moved around, so much so that she almost missed it when the strange being finally spoke.

“Know I you awakened is.” The tall batrachoid said after a moment, its voice low but distinctly feminine. It did so without turning around, her green, glistening arms moving over the machine’s controls with delicate skill. “Help us you can, but careful, hooom, we must all of us be.”

Her brow furrowed with concentration; Serra got a grasp on what the creature was saying.

“You want me to help you?”

“Yesss, Captives are we all,” The creature whistled and grumbled, its throat region expanding in apparent distress. “If we help, help us free you must as well.”

Before Serra could answer a new xenoform streaked into the room, this one significantly smaller and feathered like a bird. The newcomer kept its left wing raised to cover its head, even as it hissed at the frog-woman.

“Dangerous. Danger. This is is… trust we cannot this flesh-metal beast/creature!”

“Dangerous yesss,” The frog-woman stated emphatically, turning to look down at her diminutive challenger. “But only chance we have, truth?” Stubbornly, the smaller alien hissed and stomped her clawed feet onto the floor, her whole body shaking. Behind the two arguing aliens another bird-xenoform appeared at the doorway, head cocked as it warily watched Serra for any sign of threat. For the first time, Serra noticed the leather collars each of her visitors wore.

Serra’s eyes flashed with light as her Flaw Seeker ability activated, showing spots in the bird-creatures anatomy that the System identified as vulnerable: Throat, eyes, chest. And just like that, Serra knew how to kill the xenoform as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“Small, hollow bones, standard organic musculature, limited flight capability,” Angel said as her military programming kicked in, analyzing the creatures before Serra as she would any opponent. “Unarmored, no weapons detected… Threat assessment: Negligible.”

Serra took in her AI’s conclusion even while she tried to raise her hands, but was prevented by her bonds. Sighing, she settled for raising her head instead and addressing the frog-woman who seemed to be in charge.

“My name is Serra Jakobin,” She began, trying to project calm as much as she could considering the situation. “I am a human and I am pretty sure I am not your enemy.”

“Doubt you we shall hooman, but this I can give: I am called Ranla of Family Jira-Subel.” The frog-lady said, placing a hand on her smooth, hairless head. “Water dark and deep we all are in, but if Ifni wills, allies of need we can be.”

“Agreed,” Serra said, exaggeratingly nodding her head. “Set me free.”

“Hooom, hoom, hoom,” The frog-lady voiced, her throat sac bulging with what Serra belatedly recognized as amusement. “Fools think you we are hooman? To let you free without Oaths or assurances?”

“Hellfire!” Serra spat, causing the pair of the more skittish avians to jump back with hoarse squawks of alarm. The frog-lady merely blinked, her large eyes unperturbed. “You want a promise I won’t hurt you? I swear on my honor to do you all no harm and allow you to leave or stay as you wish! Now, set me free!”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Not so easy, warmblood,” Ranla said, raising her palms toward Serra and splaying her webbed fingers. “Swear on the System you shall to obey me and me alone, until I and the Mayarad with me,” At this she swept her hand to her side to indicate the two feathered aliens. “Promptly are returned safely to Maya V.”

The frog wanted her to swear all that on the System? Hell no! From what she understood from Osar and the Captain’s explanation regarding their own Oaths, what Ranla was asking for would make her an actual slave of the frog-woman, compelled to absolute obedience despite her own desires. If she gave that Oath, Ranla could order her to kill the Captain and her friends and Serra would have to obey, on pain of losing the System at best and death at worst, depending on how the Oath was worded.

“I refuse.” She said firmly, shaking her helmed head.

Ranla blinked, her wide mouth agape in surprise. “I am not understanding? Please repeat your words.”

“I refuse to take such an Oath.”

“Refuse?” The frog-woman tilted her head to the side, while the two avians huddled together and gave whistles of distress. “Soon Nurixan return to take what he can from you… and then the Ifni-cursed Bolseq will kill you! Swear this Oath you must!”

Serra gave a short bark of laughter, startling everyone in the room but her. “And trade one form of captivity for another? I shall give you no such Oath.”

“Foolish hoooman!” The frog-lady exclaimed, anger flushing her damp skin into a darker shade of green. “I shall... URK!?”

“What you shall do, is very slowly move towards the bed.” The whispered command allowed Serra to sag with relief against the surface of the examination table as a familiar rune-marked blade appeared pressed against Ranla’s agitatedly moving throat. The frog-woman stumbled forward, undoubtedly pushed by her invisible assailant. The two feathered aliens cowered near the doorway, clutching at each other as they watched what was happening with wide, fear-filled eyes.

“Release her.”

Ranla pressed a button beneath the table and the leathery bonds holding down Serra’s limbs loosened and slid back into recessed slots on the table’s surface. Serra slipped down to stand on her feet.

“BOLSEQ!”

Osar’s obviously amplified voice echoed through the ship’s corridors, startling Serra and eliciting moans of fear from all there of the aliens in the room.

“They will come and kill us all!” Ranla half-whispered, half-croaked, the membranes of her eyes blinking rapidly in fear. Her skin color had changed into a pale ashen-gray, and her thin arms trembled at her sides.

“Be quiet! Our friends will handle the bastard,” The Captain snarled, still invisible, as he pressed the edge of the sword he held harder onto Ranla’s neck. “Jakobin, can you take over for a moment?”

“Yes, sir.” Serra answered, pulling out her hammer and gesturing to the avians with it to move to one corner of the room. The disembodied sword disappeared as Ranla was shoved brusquely towards the two other terrified aliens. “Kill them if they make a sound.”

“Hmm,” Serra said, as she motioned with her hammer head to shepherd the distressed frog-lady to join her friends. Something about the Captain sudden appearance had clicked, and Serra did not waste the opportunity to needle her commander. “Are you perhaps naked behind your previously unusable ability, Captain?”

“Shut up, Jakobin!” The Captain said from behind one of the room’s privacy curtains.

Serra chuckled, satisfied that she had guessed correctly.

Perhaps getting captured had been worth it after all.

As they worked to restrain their three xenos captives and left them in one of the ship’s other staterooms, the Captain had filled Serra in on the situation.

It had been a shock for the young woman to see the Captain’s grievous injury, with what was left of the man’s left arm now covered by a semi-solid stasis gel cuff and one of the tissue-preservative devices she and Cid had been working on. She had insisted on examining the device and the injured flesh beneath, making sure that it had been put on correctly and was keeping the Captain’s stump viable for later reattachment.

Satisfied with the device’s placement, Serra then extended her hand to touch the Captain’s shoulder as she activated her Healer’s Warmth ability, allowing her to assess the extent of the injury through her own aetheric abilities. As a soothing heat spread through the Captain’s body, Serra kept her eyes closed as entwined tendrils of fire and healing aether gave her the information she needed.

“Well?”

“Looks like your good for a while, Captain,” Serra said cheerfully before popping an aether-replenishment chewable into her mouth. Her headache, which had been fading since her aether-draining bonds had been released, disappeared completely. “We’ll reattach the arm as soon as possible.”

“Hellfire!” The older man breathed, clearly amazed by the news. Serra smiled, glad for another reason to be happy she had taken the Support Type over any others. Sure, she loved the fighting and the ability to dish out damage, but ever since her first deployment she had known that keeping her comrades alive and functioning would always be one of her main roles within a team. She had been certified as a combat medic even before she had been cashiered out of the Union Army, and here the System allowed her to be so much more!

“We good here, soldier?”

The Captain’s question snapped Serra back into the present, and she hastily nodded her head as she turned towards the corridor that led outside. A quick interrogation session with the three terrified captives had given them a better idea of what they were up against.

Apparently, aside from the three captives, several stasis-locked prisoners, and the non-combatant pilot, their opponents consisted only of the Bolseq Nurixan and the phase-shifting Immuran mercenary named Jurub.

Which was good for their side, considering that the Captain was injured.

With a nod, Serra began running down the corridor that ran down the ship’s length, going through her options in her mind. The two of them arrived at the open hatch to the outside just as an urgent call from Cid came over the Squad-Net.

< Captain! We need help NOW! >

< In position. > The Captain broadcast to all the squad members, and giving Serra two ready taps on the helmet. Serra, careful to keep herself out of sight from anyone looking in her direction, looked out to view the situation.

Osar was lying on his back, immobile, looking up at the green-armored xenos who was holding a sword up high, ready to bring it down on the Urgan. Cid was standing to one side, helmet retracted and looking bruised and shaken as an ivory-skinned nightmarish-looking alien held a blade to his throat.

Without pausing to think, Serra crouched, lining up her body to the Bolseq standing over Osar and kicked back, simultaneously activating all of her Voidwalker’s jets.

The metal deck under her boots crumpled, and the entire void-ship rocked backward as Serra launched out of the egress hatch like a human bullet, her right arm trailing as it readied her hammer for a forward swing. Her custom battlesuits built-in actuators blazed as enormous amounts of aetheric energy were directed into them and into the artificial musculature that laced the inside of the suit. A silent attack was impossible as shock waves burst outward as she streaked through the air. Within a fraction of a fraction of a second she was before her target, who was just now beginning to turn around as he noticed the disturbance behind him.

Serra screamed wordlessly as she swung her hammer underhand, focusing all her force and momentum into the blow, fleeing the slight tug of resistance as her blow connected before she blasted past. Quickly and still in mid-air Serra disappeared her hammer into her ring as she raised her hands before her face, tucking in her feet in as she slammed bodily into the side of a building, raising up a massive blast of vaporized permacrete and stone, trusting that her suit would save her from serious injury.

It did, but only barely, and Serra was able to say a single phrase before the darkness closed in around her.

< Got him! >

“Her vital signs are stable, sir.” Pig said as the plume of dust and debris rose from where Serra had crashed. “She is unconscious, but there doesn’t seem to be any serious injury.”

Tough girl, Eric thought grimly as he stepped down from the hatch opening, his damaged battlesuit’s armored boots crunching on the pebbled ground. He retracted his helmet as he did so, noting that all threats had now been neutralized.

Cid was kneeling over the prone body of Osar, administering some sort of first aid to the fallen warrior. The mercenary alien that the frog-like Ranla had called an Immuran stood to one side, its clawed limbs raised above its fox-like head, having dropped his weapon and set Cid free the moment Serra had smashed away Nurixan.

Wary, Eric stopped a few steps away from the alien, his face hard and expressionless.

The ivory-colored alien gave Eric a strange bow, its primary limbs folded across his chest while its two secondary limbs were spread out to the sides.

“I surrender.” The mercenary said simply.

“Aren’t you under contract?” Eric asked, curious.

“Contract void once Nurixan dead,” The creature answered, its dark eyes calm as it straightened. “I told him leave but no listen/hear did he my words.”

“He is not dead yet.” Eric said grimly, inclining his head to where the Bolseq had fallen after Serra’s mighty blow.

“He will be, and die I will not for one of the dead.”

Eric nodded in understanding, taking a moment to look at the pitiful state of the man who had cut off his arm. Serra’s hammer strike had pulverized the base of the Bolseq’s spine, sending both his legs and his upper body in three different directions. What was left of Nurixan was now sprawled face-down on the graveled ground a few meters away, making incoherent sounds as the severely injured man struggled to right himself.

Eric turned away briefly to look the Immuran mercenary in the eye.

“Will I be having a problem with you?” He asked.

“No, Lord.” The fox-faced creature answered, licking his black lips nervously.

“Stay there for a while.”

Eric didn’t even wait to see the creature nod before walking over to where Cid was helping a bloodied and battered Osar to a sitting position.

“How is he?” Eric asked as he placed a hand on Cid’s shoulder.

“He’ll recover,” Cid replied, looking up and giving Eric a weak attempt at a smile, although his round face was clearly pale and gaunt. “How are you holding up, Captain?”

“I’ll be better soon.”

Eric turned away from his comrades and walked the few steps to the dying Bolseq.

“Wait human!” Nurixan exclaimed as he heard Eric’s footsteps, raising one hand weakly as Eric approached his broken body. Eric took a knee beside the alien and took hold of the cracked and smoking armor, flipping Nurixan over to expose the mangled ruin of his abdomen and lower body.

“Please!” The Bolseq sobbed, dark tears leaking from its expressive eyes, trailing visible lines of wet fur down its burned and bloody face. “I have much to trade! I know where things, valuable things are hidden…”

Eric let the alien babble along as he awkwardly drew a rough metal bead from his ring and held it over the pleading alien’s face.

Burden.

The bead, now heavier by several tons, dropped down on the alien’s face.

Eric took out a rag from his ring and wiped off as much of the splash-over as he could, before throwing the bloodied rag down onto Nurixan’s pulped head.

“That’s for making me walk around naked, asshole.”