ACT II - THE GREAT WORK
CHAPTER THIRTY
Gazing into the achromatic oblivion, Soran's surroundings faded from perception, left vulnerable to the sorrow that had been festering within. The prickle of frostbite that danced across his skin was the only indication he was still alive.
Rough hands curled underneath the boy's shoulder blades, grasping his suit and lifting him from what he imagined would be his tomb. Soran's departure from the ice-locked moon was accompanied by a scene of merciful closure. What remained of his failing vision rested upon the sinking wreckage of that cursed ship. The Basslark cried out in a wail of shrieking metal, succumbing to the jagged abyss below. The hull's hideous design warped under the pressure, transforming a once fearsome war-machine into ineffectual scrap. Her terrible reign had come to an end.
Though laid to rest, for Soran, the dreadnoughts demise offered little in the way of reprieve. The anchor of loss continued its descent, careening through fathoms of sadness. Coupled with the bleakness of his future, being hauled from the snow-covered mound was more akin to a curse than salvation.
Soran dropped to the ground with a thud and the blizzard disappeared behind silvery doors. Instantly he was bathed in the calm of orchestral music. Perfectly placed notes were juxtaposed with the erratic rhythm of his breath. His body quivered in the new warmth. The delicate lights of overhead lamps were interrupted by their captor's protracted shadow. Teege’s indifference was astounding. He examined the near-frozen bodies with a precise gaze. Not out of concern for their wellbeing, but to evaluate the condition of his salvage; Struggling to discern if Tugg's missing limb was cause for concern. Although the Horizon crew represented a substantial payday, his motivations for the retrieval ran much deeper than mere credits.
Once a prominent hunter on the galactic stage, Teege was recruited by the unseen hand of Naval operations. Known only as the Sect, denial of its existence was the Navy's official position. This subterfuge caused a mystique to form around the group, resigning it to a realm of conspiracy. If a job exceeded the bounds of the law then rumor of Sect involvement would flood the scene with wild speculation. The aftermath of such events would reliably include a trail of bodies, empty safes, and an overwhelmed Naval ensign attempting to explain away the situation.
Teege had patrolled his quadrant for the better part of a decade and, to his displeasure, had encountered Ranna on several occasions. Predominantly in situations of questionable legality but never quite egregious enough to warrant the Sect's time. Most of Teege's duties had involved collecting payment from the Navy's countless interests, persuading those withholding their contribution into a wiser course of action. In a galaxy rife with pirate attacks, there was a price for safety and the Navy remained adequately compensated. The pirates might have been the face of the galaxy's evil, but the Navy was its heart. Unfortunately, when that evil happens to be holding the only shield, you either pay up or forever remain in the line of fire.
Ranna's frozen captive was first on Teege's agenda. The lifeline was severed and with it the oxygenated blood that had kept the Pirate-Lord conscious. Kaligan looked a little worse for wear, a sickly veil bleaching his usual olive skin.
“Been tracking you for some time,” said Teege as he stared into the pirate's vacant eyes. Kaligan's brain was being starved, disintegrating further as each second passed. Teege dropped the head into a Cryo-chamber and spun the seal closed, suspending him for transport back to where he belonged. The hunters, on the other hand, were far from the Hive's prime clientele. Besides vague horror stories handed down for generations, they had no idea of the torments that awaited.
All four were currently hooked up to an IV, a rejuvenating serum flowing into their systems. A swelling heat raced through their veins and gradually the sensation in their limbs returned; Starting in the arms and working down to their practically frozen toes. Ranna stirred, his breathing raspy and erratic. The serum was incapable of fixing the extensive damage sustained by his lungs. He had sacrificed precious seconds, allowing Soran to spend a few more moments with his friend. An act for which he felt nothing but pride.
Soran weaved in and out of consciousness, muttering the names of his crew as he fought against bouts of abstract dream. The notion of parting with the Horizon hunters had become unthinkable. With all desire to return home extinguished, and the thought of going it alone too frightening, he was left with little choice. Despite his earlier objections, he had become a hunter. Although, if their current predicament was anything to go by, a rather poor one.
Mag-restraints bound Soran's wrists, pinning him to the grated metal beneath the lavish carpet. His crew shared in his predicament, showered with glares of disdain from Teege's three-strong crew. The two heavily armed Naval officers that they had outrun on Valaterra gossiped amongst themselves, clearly relieved that Teege had remedied their earlier faux pas. The remaining member was a pilot of unknown species. Its body, comprised of an undulating mass of tentacles and no discernable humanoid features, sprawled over a pristine set of control apparatus. The being expertly guided the vessel through a tricky configuration of asteroids whilst clicking an offbeat tune through a hidden sensory organ. Curved upward at the bow and of slender design, Teege's ship resembled a gondola. Long benches ran down either side of the main galley, leading to lavish living quarters on the lower deck. Teege's affluence was unashamedly displayed and left no doubt that he was substantially rewarded for his work. He sat with his head buried in the fur lining of his cape, pretending to hit piano keys as he feigned playing along with the music. His celebration was unsurprising, the man was headed toward a literal mountain of credits. Even the beauty of his current vessel would be shadowed by the opulence to which he would ascend.
Lanic’s memory would be stored away, for now, safe amongst Soran's most treasured memories. He couldn't allow it to end here. He had come too far to spend the rest of his life immured in a candidate for the galaxy's foulest construction.
Although in no shape to form any kind of offensive, Soran kept his eyes peeled for any sign of distraction, a weakness that could be exploited. El took similar initiative, her eyes veiled by wavering strands of hair, narrow and focused. The near imperceptible movement of her hands behind her back attracted Soran's attention. She delicately fiddled with the lock mechanism of her restraints; Her execution silent and precise. Mag-locks were ubiquitous throughout the galaxy, a fact that left the boy reddened with embarrassment. Despite working with the technology for most of his life, he was trapped.
It's a good job you're not around to see this.
Suddenly, their scheming ceased and the jovial atmosphere was suspended by an incoming communication tone. Teege patched through the call to his device.
“Teege. Is there an issue?”
“Your presence has been requested immediately on Accrakos sir. Rumour of a growing pirate presence has surfaced. We believe it to be the Cybel.” The voice wavered when mentioning the name and Teege’s eyes shot wide with intrigue. This was his white whale. Not sighted in decades, not since their escape following the Eureka Calamity, the Cybel twins possessed the highest combined bounty in the galaxy. They were every hunter's dream.
Inspecting his current haul of disgraced hunters, Teege weighed up his options. Despite his eagerness to cash in, he knew that once discovered, the twins would flee Accrakos immediately. He had to act now before word of the Cybel reached the armada. This was his only chance.
“Patch through the intel. Inform the Admirals the situation is being dealt with.” Teege hung up the call and rose to his feet, eyes gleaming with the promise of near-endless riches. Bottomless greed had swayed him. The hunt would begin anew.
Soran had long harbored disdain for the twins. Heralded as the masterminds of the Eureka Calamity and thus, responsible for Lanic's downfall. Although it was the trickster lord, Marick Thane, that had been the deceiver, it was the Cybel twins, Volka and Khan, that had been pulling the strings. If justice were to be enacted and the memory of his mentor honored, the twins would have to pay for the part they played.
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Heavy breathing distracted Soran from his rumination. Tugg was visibly distressed over what he had heard. Despite no longer being frozen, he shuddered in anticipation.
“He doesn't like going home. Bad memories.” El whispered, nestling up to the brute to offer what little comfort she could.
Soran struggled to relate. Being born amongst the colonies meant he had never stepped foot on a habitable world. Earth had been a distant memory for humanity for well over a century, and despite the healthy human population that inhabited the stars, they no longer had a place to call home. Tugg's belonging fostered jealousy within the boy. The Hyacinth wasn't exactly the most welcoming place. Her rusted husk didn't exude the homely warmth he'd dreamt of. With the remaining habitable worlds being so heavily protected, the chance of settling down somewhere with a view was next to none. For now, at least, the murky porthole windows that framed the endless void would have to suffice.
Staring up at the red drapery that hung in elegant bunches from the ceiling, Ranna lay still. With the elegant decor accompanying the music, Teeges ship was more of a relaxing lounge than a Naval vessel. Though the atmosphere was anything but tranquil. Conflicting emotions tore at the Captain, a fissure of unease opening within him. Despite their trip to the Hive being postponed, the waters for which they were headed presented a comparable level of peril.
Save for a tiny sliver of land that poked from her undulating surface, Accrakos was a world of ocean; the only one of its kind that remained unspoiled. The Accra were a warrior race who had for centuries, staved off all attempts of colonization. After besting the Navy in combat and accept their terms of surrender, the Accra allowed a brief pocket of outsider access to facilitate trade. Since this most unprecedented event, the Navy had classified the planet as highly restricted. Visitors were prohibited and official liaisons with Naval personnel were kept to a stark minimum. Few others had dared to delve into the glaucous atmosphere, tales of the danger-riddled oceans enough to deter even the most seasoned explorer.
Minimal vigilance was required of the Navy where security was concerned. The plethora of serpentine abominations that lurked beneath its surface and the constant threat of typhoons and hurricanes were sufficient to prevent most atmospheric breaches. Those that did make it through were likely to become lunch for horrors too terrible to describe.
Although uncomfortably numerous and distressing, these hazards were mere grains in the desert compared to the prey Teege was hunting. There was a good reason the navy set the Cybel bounty at a hundred million credits; The immense riches acting as more of a warning than an invitation. In twenty-five years the twins had seemingly ceased to exist. No docking reports, sightings on long-range radar, or even rumors in the backstreets of Valaterra. They had become ghosts. The Navy felt threatened enough by them roaming free to offer a sizable portion of the government's fortune for their capture. Most believed the search for the twins to be a pointless endeavor. Anecdotes placed them in the pirate king's entourage back during the Crusade of Galneus. More than a century had passed since the event and would put them deep into their graves by now. Teege was not of this mindset. He prided himself on being the best at what he did, taking their illusiveness as a personnel slight.
He fantasized about his ascent into the upper echelons. Delivering formidable pirates to the just arms of the law was an act he took great pleasure in. Payment may have been his motivation but the real satisfaction came from ridding the galaxy of these creatures, one at a time.
As they broke the barrier of Accrakos’s upper atmosphere, the music faltered as turbulence took hold. The violent hymn of shuddering metal was the warm welcome they had been expecting. Vicious storms conjured titanic waves that raged across the planet's surface. The roar of untamed thunder added the destructive soundtrack, injecting evermore fear into the wind-wracked vessel. Even Teege had his hand grasped firmly on the underside of his seat as his ship wrestled against the fierce winds. Accra lookouts signaled the ship to dock from their control tower. It was the only surface structure and dominated the vast majority of the port island.
Considering the less than favorable circumstances, the pilot brought them down in a clumsy but respectable landing.
With a commanding whistle, Teege summoned his pilot. The writhing mass of tentacles slithered to his side, its movements accompanied by an unsettling squelch. Opening a ceramic urn that hung from his waist, Teege clicked his tongue three times, beckoning the pilot to enter. As directed, it slithered inside, reducing its mass to little more than a fist.
Soran was amazed, if not a little disturbed, by the bizarre display. He wondered where Teege had acquired such a peculiar lifeform, confident in the fact that its employment was not mutually agreed.
Teege stood and raised a silver orb into the air, activating a button on either side. The Horizon crew were pulled to their feet in an instant, their arms clasped together above their heads. They were the marionettes and he was their puppeteer. He tilted the orb to reorient the restraints behind their back, prompting the cracking of their neglected joints. He let his control device float in midair and it followed him as he exited the ship, pulling along his captives in a single-file line.
Torrential downpours drenched their tattered suits. The rain had a strong salty taste, tainted with a fishy odor that sank into their exposed skin. Helmets were not needed on Accrakos due to the high oxygen content. So high in fact that it left the average human lightheaded if they were to take too zealous a gulp. Teege's men hurried the hunters into the tower where they were greeted by a company of Accran security.
The tower had been a peace offering from the Navy. A thinly veiled ploy to gain access to the planet and keep tabs on its people.
Accrakos was accessible by appointment only, most of which were denied. However, due to the time-sensitive nature of the mission and hazardous nature of the intruders, protocol would be omitted on this occasion. Weapons were checked and inventoried in what felt like a confiscation. Confirmation of identity was processed along with the validation of the admirals holo-seal.
Tugg held his head low. A barrage of disrespectful jeers was hurled his way from the other Accra. Their language might have been untranslatable but the situation was universal. He was small for an Accra and even though he towered over the other crew members, he was dwarfed by his brethren.
Both Ranna and El knew very little about Tugg, the circumstances that led to his departure from Accrakos remaining a mystery to this day. After all, the ocean world was a relatively safe environment. Protected from the planet's natural dangers in vast cave cities, hidden beneath the seafloor. They had lived for millennia, undisturbed by the chaos that ensued in the galaxy around them. Tugg had his reasons and, whatever they were, neither Ranna nor El would dig any deeper. The Horizon code would remain unbroken.
They pushed through the chorus of insults and into a circular room that bustled with the sound of machinery. Hanging in the center was a contraption out of time, its archaic nature in stark contrast to the modern design of the tower that housed it. It was a passenger cart, hanging above a diagonal tunnel that descended into darkness. A continuous updraft rocked the wooden frame, testing the worthiness of the frayed rope support with each swing. Teege pulled himself aboard, his gloves instantly stained with bronze flakes from the rusted poles. As Soran clambered aboard, he noticed the cart was shaped like a fish, a curved body that thinned out into a tail fin. Accuracy was obviously of lesser importance to the Accra, opting instead for a more abstract interpretation of their world's marine life. Teege sat on one of the many rickety stools, grabbing his control orb from the air and pulling the hunters to their knees.
“Time to deposit you for safe-keeping. I'll return to collect you, at some point, so don’t go getting comfortable” Teege said with a smug grin. Soran was taken by surprise. He had been diligently planning his escape until now, imagining that they would be accompanying Teege and his men whilst they conducted their hunt. Though a short reprieve from their captor was welcome, the boy knew their temporary destination would be far from pleasant.
Grinding gears propelled the cart along five lengths of rope that ran the entire tunnel. Cylindrical pulleys threaded the rope precisely, giving the cart a decent momentum. As they plummeted further into the planet, they could feel the pressure of the ocean close in around them. The steady hiss of the rope their only companion as they plunged into the salt-scented gloom.