Rudolf Du Plessis, Captain of the Eel Fang, leaned against the railing on the landing over his pod doc. He stared down at the room, dotted with bolted-down machines, through his good right eye, its counterpart covered in a black patch.

Rudolf nodded, and one of two guards pulled the hatch open. Indistinguishable muttering filtered through the opening as men in orange jumpsuits shackled to a chain filed in from the returned assault pod, prodded by armed Coral Corsairs.

"Watch it," a white-skinned inmate with long grey hair snapped when one of Rudolf's men pulled in back to get him in line with the other convicts. Du Plessis noted the outburst. That one would be trouble. Twenty-seven total, not a bad catch. Rudolf nodded to the Nkosi, the TL responsible for this particular cargo.

"Captain on deck!" Nkosi barked, and all the corsairs snapped to attention, causing the convicts to stir in surprise. Heads pivoted, seeking out the announced officer, and eventually, all turned up to Rudolf standing on the landing.

"You are all dead," Roldof said, his voice firm and commanding. "I am Rudolf Du Plessis, captain of the Eel Fang and proud member of the Coral Corsairs. Your councilmen have sold you out to be executed. They seem to think you're worthless, a liability, unworthy of the air you breathe, so you have been marked for liquidation.

Many of the convicts seemed to shrink, but none dared look away.

"You are all dead," The captain repeated. "Tragic victims of a raid on Joberg."

Rudolf straitened, so he didn't lean so much on the rail. "I don't think you're unworthy. I offer you a chance at rebirth. You have all made mistakes, but who hasn't? I have erased your past; none of my men know your history. I offer you a fresh start. I offer you a chance to live with honor, to protect and rescue those who can't defend themselves."

"How generous," The white, grey-haired man sneered, his hooked nose and lean face twisted. "All for the small price of a lifetime of servitude?"

Rudolf narrowed his single eye at the disgruntled dissonant. "You will be trained and watched closely. As you prove yourself, you will gain privileges until you become a Coral Corsair and wear our emblem." Rudolf gestured to a coral crown and saber banner hanging on the wall.

"Yeah, I think I'll pass," The convict said, proffering his cuffed wrists. "If you could let me out, I'll leave you to do pirate stuff."

Rudolf looked down at his feet and chuckled. There was always one. "When making such a request," he glanced at the man. You should be much more cautious with your word choice."

The unfortunate focus of attention considered his statement, and his eyes widened.

Rudolf snapped his fingers, and his men pounced. Two restrained the criminal, and another cut his chain from the main line. The rest of the prisoners shied away from the violence, but they watched. Good, Du Plessis nodded. Let them watch.

"As I said, you are all already dead," Rudolf started down the metal stairs, his boots clicking against the steel.

"Get off me!" The criminal snarled, but his cuffs restrained his struggle; the two who handled him dragged him to an open decomp chamber with ease.

"I offer rebirth," Rudolf said as he continued to the bay.

His men threw the prisoner in and slammed the hatch.

The rejective criminal rose, his face appearing in a porthole window. The glass muted his screams.

"Gather round and watch," Rudolf ushered his new hatchlings to the window with all the care of an attentive father showing his son a rare fish. "Rebirth isn't for everyone," He continued. "I'll never force it on anyone!"

The man screamed and slammed the window.

"If you reject rebirth, remember, you're already dead."

One of his men input a command into the panel, ready to flood the chamber.

"Not that one," Du Plessis cut in. Watching a man drown didn't send a strong enough message.

The operator nodded and opened a side panel. A lone red button was covered by a clear plastic cover. The corsair flipped the tab and slammed the breakaway. Titanium bolts groaned, and the far wall collapsed.

An exclamation of repugnance escaped the prisoners as they recoiled. A torrent of water roared into the chamber, swallowing the man. The ocean crushed him, slamming him into a wall and snapping bones like kelp stalks. Ribs caved in, and white churning seawater fogged the glass momentarily, but all was still.

On the other side of the chamber, an imploded, blood-shrouded clump of bones and tissue held together in the vague shape of a man by an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs floated out of the decomp chamber.

Rudolf clapped his hands together. "Now, who wants rebirth?"

The new conscripts cried out, several throwing themselves to their knees as they pled for acceptance. Rudolf smiled. This group caught on quickly; he had to flush three last time before they seemed to understand. "Swear them in," he ordered Nkosi.

The captain turned to return to oversee the raid when his palm tablet buzzed on his belt. He turned his com on. "Go for Du Plessis," He said.

"Sir," Andile, the subs coms officer, buzzed in his ear. "I didn't want to disturb your initiation ceremony. Three pods are almost here, incoming to dock."

Rudolf furrowed his brow as he started up the stairs. Behind him, Nkosi's men unshackled the prisoners so they could raise their right arms to a square. "We're not expecting three back already, are we?"

"Launch Pod Three radioed ahead, but the other two aren't even ours and aren't responding to hails."

Rudolf furrowed his brow, unclipped his palm tablet from his belt, and pulled up the radar interface.

A yellow dot and two blues blipped as they held the course for the Eel Fang at the center. This was highly irregular. "Attack subs?"

"Negative. They seem to be maintenance mini-subs."

When the corsairs attacked, most of the Joberg mini-subs scattered and hid in the kelp forest or Joberg's hydrothermal vents. There was no way a desperate, isolationist landing party would attempt an assault, right?

"Should we sink them?"

All three dots blipped closer.

"Negative," Rudolf said. "They're probably one of our teams who got separated and commandeered a few vessels. Joberg uses an old Hardline system, so our coms probably won't reach them."

Blip. The dots converged towards the center of the radar.

Could it be an attack? No, that was mad. The Eel Fang was a destroyer class war sub, teaming with marines. A small attack force from a single metropolis colony was such a foolish idea that Du Plessis even cracked a smile. "Prepare to receive them, but don't open the decomp chambers until we have extra security on the docs." Rudolf stopped at the top of the landing.

"Roger."

The yellow dot slowed as it neared the center.

Blip. The blue dots passed it.

"Sir!" Andile buzzed in the earpiece, they're speeding up,"

A cold trickle down Rudolf's back under his skin made the captain stand straight. They were practically here. An attack party was madness, but battering rams were a much more feasible offensive. He should have known better.

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"Launch torpedoes! evasive maneuvers!"

Automated emergency lights flashed as the projectiles triggered the radar response system, and the attack alarm trumpeted. Too late.

"Brace for impact. Brace for impact," A monotonous male voice drolled on repeat. Shit. Rudolf hugged the railing and shut his eyes.

The world imploded in noise, fire, water, and shock, but surprisingly, no pain.

********

Thulani eased the hydraulic generator's side panel open and flicked the power button. The generator growled, punctuated by a cyclic hiss.

What was he doing? He should be running home, sealing himself in his hatch. What had happened to Olivia? His sister, Nandi, would have been working at the geothermal plant when the raiders struck. Did she meet the strange criteria for execution? The more he thought about it, the more sure Thulani was. This wasn't wanton chaos but a systemic culling. The enemy referred to the shipment on the dock as "payment." Why payment and not loot or plunder? He'd find his answer if he could get his hands on one of their tablets. He should have grabbed the one from Johan's first round of victims.

Thulani stayed low, peeking around the generator to see all four raiders looking at the noise. One motioned, and two shouldered their carbines and started his way.

Idiot! Thulani, sound masked by the generator, scrambled on all fours toward the 2000-gallon air compressor. He glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, its potential to suddenly become a sniper's nest never far from his mind, but no one appeared. The few jets of water from the imperfect seal continued spraying, but the bay pumps kept the water from creeping over the grated floor. This four-man team trying to load the shipment might have been the sub's crew.

Plenty of cluttered industrial tables bolted to the ground, forklifts, and other heavy machinery gave Thulani sufficient cover to slither through, but the enemy knew he was in their proximity, and he was unarmed.

Thulani peaked under the legs of a table to see the two investigating his disturbance arrive at the hydraulic generator. They swept the bay with their weapons, and he froze.

A series of chop saws screamed on the other side of the bay, and they looked away from Thulani. It seemed Johan hadn't bled out just yet and was starting up the machines on the other side of the bay.

Using the distraction, Thulani slid behind the air compressor. When he powered it on, the air compressor, the saws, and the hydraulic generator mixed with the groaning alarm into the melody of industrial ear damage.

Both investigators whirled in his direction, and he dropped prone. He didn't want to be anywhere near a pressurized tank when bullets flew. As scared as he was of the raiders, he could only imagine what Johan would do to him if he ran. He crawled low, on his knees and elbows. The upturned corners of the diamond grating in the floor designed for boot traction tore through his jumpsuit.

Thulani crossed along the back wall, shielded by tool tables, until he circled back to the center of the room. He peeked up to see the two arrive at the air compressor. He looked up at the breach hole with cords dangling out, still no sign of a shooter. Machines roared around him, and he glanced back to the interface panel to the decomp chamber and froze. The hardline control pad stood in solitude. The first pair of raiders, who had been focused on navigating the hardline, had vanished from the terminal. Where were they?

Movement in his peripheral spun Thulani and the missing pair watched him with amused smiles, carbines held at the low ready. Thulani lifted his hands, palm out, and swallowed. The very sound that masked his movements had concealed this second pair's approach.

One casually lined Thulani in his sights at practically point-blank range, and Thulani threw himself to the side. Too late; it was an impossible shot to miss.

Thulani screamed, his voice barely audible over the din.

A forklift rammed into the men from the side at full speed. Johan grinned at the pirates stuck on his forks as he steered with one hand, his thumb still pushing up into his neck wound. He had lost one of the wads of paper from his bloody nose, and murder gleamed in his eyes.

The forklift's flat blades punctured the paneling on a chain lift, spearing through one of the raiders. The other one, caught between the forks, jerked and thrashed.

Johan reversed the lift and cranked the wheel in a tight circle. The sudden inertia change caused the blades to rip out of newly formed tears in the panel and flung both men. The impaled raider tumbled like a rag doll coming to a stop, and the other one frantically scrambled, trying to draw his pistol as he had lost his carbine at some point. Johan cackled as he bore down on the survivor.

Bullets threw sparks around them as the two attackers near the air compressor opened fire.

Shit. Thulani ducked, but Johan's was a caged crab on the forklift. Thulani saw a dropped carbine and almost went for it, but he hesitated. It had taken him five minutes to figure out the pistol he had shot back in the steam corridor. He had no idea if the weapon was ready to fire or if he'd eject the magazine as he tried to ready it.

A tool on the table caught his eye. One he knew how to operate. Thulani grabbed the bolt gun, its hose connecting it to the air compressors behind the raiders. Thulani reached under the muzzle of the tool and manually held back the safety nose that had to be compressed to fire. Hoping he didn't put a bolt through his finger, Thulani unloaded. Steel bolts flew across the bay, and the raiders dove for cover. Their firearms were a much better weapon, and they easily had the pod tech outgunned. However, something about being able to see the projectile seemed to make them forget that.

Behind him, Johan brought the forks down on his victim, pinning him to the ground. He continued until the forklift's front wheels lifted, and the raider screamed but struggled to replace the air that went out.

More sparks sprayed, causing Thulani to take cover as one raider sprayed out suppressive fire. The other made a wide circle, staying low, to outflank the techs.

Johan also noticed the maneuver, hoisted his wrench, and hopped out of the forklift to stop the maneuver.

"Help," the raider pinned under the forklift gasped.

The flanker saw Johan and opened fire. The mechanic ducked and spun as the combatants pinned them down from two angles.

Thulani risked peeking at one of the raiders and ducked back. "They're closing in!"

Johan looked up with heavy eyelids. More blood seeped out around his thumb than before. In plugging the wound, he had inadvertently widened it.

Thulani realized the mechanic was probably done with the fight. The discarded carbine tempted him on the floor, mere yards from his cover. As scary as the bolt gun was, a real weapon was much more likely to end the fight. He lunged for it, and bullets followed him. He overshot the carbine and stumbled. Bullets ripped onto the weapon, making it jump and spin from the impact. Metal and plastic shrapnel ripped from the gun, and Thulani staggered back to cover.

Great, now the weapon was probably useless. Thulani patted himself down, checking for wounds masked by adrenaline. Aside from the shrapnel cut scabbed on his forehead from the maintenance corridor, he found no blood.

Recovering the bolt gun, he reached around the top of the table, pulled the safety tip, and blindly returned fire, decompressed hisses intermingling with the gunshots. The rapidly decompressed air burned his finger with the cold. The bolts stopped coming, indicating he was out, and Thulani looked around for anything that might help.

The second raider got in a proper flanking position, and they closed the gap. Weapons? Thulani looked at the corpse of the impaled raider, his carbine still strapped to his body and exposed in the open like a piece of cod on a rat trap. Distractions? Thulani's eyes followed his bolt gun's hose. It met up above with four others at a mother line. He reached up, wrapping his arm around all four hoses, consolidating them, and producing his utility razor from his cargo pocket.

The raider behind him stopped firing his carbine, and a less thunderous pop of continued fire suggested he switch to a pistol.

Thulani cut the brass adapters off of all four hoses, sending them hissing and animating like squid tentacles and blowing dust into the air. Hoping the hoses distracted their assailants, Thulani rolled over to Johans' hiding spot but gaped when he didn't find the mechanic.

The flanker grunted, and Thulani peeked around to see Johan clip him in the jaw with a lead hook. The raider staggered but brought his weapon to bear on Johan. This wasn't a fight the mechanic could win one-handed.

Thulani sprinted, ignoring the enemy behind him.

Johan's eyes widened as he saw the barrel come up, then hardened again. He whisked his thumb out of his neck and slammed the raider with a left cross. Blood fountained from his neck, and he collapsed.

The raider righted and raised his weapon to execute Johan when Thulani slammed into him and whipped it across the raider's eyes.

The man screamed and clasped a hand to his face, and Thulani scooped Johan's wrench. Johan made efficient use of the wrench, but Thulani did not. He reared and struck. Neck, leg, torso, knee — The raider grunted at each impact, but his body armor absorbed most of it.

Thulani screamed and switched back to the utility razor. The blinded raider fired blindly, but Thulani was too close. The razor snagged the inside of the raider's upper arm, and Thulani raised the wrench. The raider slumped, weakly flailing. Thulani paused, confused. Was the enemy feigning worse injury than he received?

The raider fell back, and Thulani noticed blood squirting from his arm. The knife must have nicked an artery.

Thulani pushed past the raider, grabbed a white rag from a cardboard box of disposable cloth, and ran to Johan. Thulani wrapped the rag around his finger and crammed the fabric into the mechanic's neck. It wasn't hemostatic gauze, but Johan was likely already dead. He jammed the rag in with his fingers, filling all the space.

"Come on," Thulani gasped at the motionless mechanic.

What about the last raider? Thulani felt a presence behind him. He turned to find the final raider level his pistol.

The raider's pale face seemed drained of blood. Why didn't he shoot? Thulani raised his hands but stopped halfway. Then he smiled. "You're out."

The raider flinched. "No, I'm not." Thulani stood. "Then shoot me. If I get to you, I'm going to kill you."

The raider cursed and dropped the pistol. Thulani wasn't excited about his odds of facing off hand-to-hand with a trained combatant, yet they were surely better than fighting an armed enemy. He glanced at the fallen raider near him. He had a pistol, but Thulani would expose his back getting to it.

"Let's just go our separate ways," Thulani offered. "Stalemate. We both live."

The raider evaluated Thulani and sneered as he drew a knife from the rear of his belt, apparently determined to avenge his compatriots without a firearm.

Thulany stepped back. He sure as hell wasn't going into a knife fight with nothing but his calluses. He looked toward the main entrance. If he could outrun this pirate, he could disappear into the city. Johan's plan had failed.

Two dozen armed figures filed in from the metropolis hatch wearing black and teal combat armor, and Thulani sank into despair. The raider smiled when he saw his comrades and turned back to the pod tech. "What was that you were saying about a stalemate?"