CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A rather embarrassing realization dawned on Soran. He knew next to nothing about their mission. How exactly Ranna planned to stroll in and capture a Pirate Lord and somehow make it out alive remained a puzzling mystery. Thinking back to his encounter with Malig, he would most certainly be dead had it not been for that strange shard. By now it would be tucked away deep in a secured facility, unable to assist in the capture of yet another infamous Lord.

“Looks like we're on time to catch our ride,” Ranna said, focusing the Holo-projector on the moon's orbit. A flight path was plotted in and Soran assumed it to be their projected landing route.

“Our ride?” The boy asked, walking over to get a closer look.

“Yeah, our ticket to get onto the moon, unseen. Cant just land and say hi.” Ranna said, chuckling to himself. Soran looked closer at the projection and realized that the flight path wasn't meant for the Horizon.

“That's your plan?” He asked, unable to believe they saw this as a possible option.

“The train is the only way onto the surface without drawing attention. Unless you have a better idea? After all, you’re our secret weapon.” Ranna said with a wink. Soran was caught off guard by the remark, almost forgetting the entire reason for his kidnapping. They expected him to catch Kaligan. The apprentice from the Hyacinth. Without some genius strategy, he was leading the crew, and himself, to a certain and unpleasant death.

Soran had refueled many cargo trains in his time and knew their inner workings like the back of his hand. They were not actual trains, more like protracted ships split up into hundreds of sections, Most commonly, the trains were used for hauling massive quantities of merchandise by prominent galactic corporations. This one, in particular, was a mineral deposit vessel, the three hundred, extra-wide carts used by the Vercinial mining company were unmistakable. Based on this fact, the moon they were headed to was most likely a platinum ore mine; platinum being a highly desirable material for the construction of both weapons and ships. The scarcity of the resource gave Vercinial eager protection from the Navy, who to Soran’s dismay, would almost certainly be on guard.

“The cargo train moves at transonic speed. How are you planning to dock in an environment like that?” Soran asked.

“Who said anything about docking?” He replied with a smile that the boy knew meant trouble.

“The Horizon glides faster than transonic, we can sail right alongside the train. Once we’re close enough, we use the Magtech on our suits to cling to the hull. And away we go, down to the mineral loading station and on with the mission.” He said, confident in his plan's validity. The Maglev feature of the spacesuits made it easy for the wearer to cling to any surface. Soran employed it when cleaning the centuries of grime from the underbelly of the Hyacinth. It was the safest method to perform all manner of vacuum-based tasks. However, walking along the hull of a stationary structure and moving from one vessel to another at transonic speed were very different things.

“What about the train guards?” Soran asked.

“We'll pull up on the underside of the train as it passes through the moon's asteroid belt. The scanners will be so overwhelmed with objects they won't even notice us.” He replied, this time looking over at El for confirmation, who gave an unconvinced tilt of her head.

“We will only have around sixty seconds to make our jump. The train's system is pretty ancient but we won't be able to fool it forever.” She said concerned. Ranna seemed unaffected by the detail.

“Just gotta make the jump quick and it should be smooth sailing.”

Soran mulled over the plan that was to him, just shy of insanity. One thing was abundantly clear, Ranna was the only one with even a degree of certainty. Even Tugg seemed nervous, tapping his feet away behind them as heavy purrs trembled from his vocal sack.

“Don't mind Tugg. He always gets nervous before heading out. Poor guy must miss his glory days, swimming around in his fishbowl.” Ranna said sarcastically and was met by a snarl and loud clang as Tugg struck the wall.

“Home’s a touchy subject, you know?” Ranna whispered.

Soran knew little about Tugg’s planet other than it was designated as a class one world. Planets that should be avoided at all costs, unless suicide was the intent. In the majority of expeditions to the surface of Accrakos, the landing party had disappeared, likely swallowed by a rogue wave or one of the horrors that dwelt beneath them. Those that did return were often so traumatized they were unable to recount their experience. Physically incapable of speaking most galactic languages, the Accra developed a complex pantomime of gestures. These strange hand signals were often confusing and had led to a breakdown in communication between them and the galaxy's space-dwelling inhabitants. As one of the last remaining habitable worlds, the government had decided to reschedule the planet as class one, leaving the Accra to their own devices and keeping a watchful eye from a safe distance. A war with the Accra was the last thing that this galaxy needed.

“Suit up,” Ranna ordered, rising to his feet and marching to the lockers in the living area. Unlatching the widest of the four steel chambers, he revealed a set of charcoal Magtech suits. The dull shine of the sleek matte finish quivered under the artificial lighting. A white stripe accented the length of the arms and legs, brimming with stealth and temperature regulation technologies. He bent down and slid out the lower compartment of the chamber. It contained a pile of scuffed boots that matched the design of the suit. The deep soles housed the Maglev technology and three buckles to secure the occupant. If not sufficiently secured, the pull of the powerful magnets could easily pluck the boot -- and containing foot -- from the unfortunate astronaut. Ranna tossed Soran a suit and pair of boots, the heavyweight, and signature oiled scent a welcome familiarity in this outlandish situation. Once the suit was touched to the skin it conformed to the shape of their bodies, designed to be a perfect fit for all sizes and species. Magtech was another big player amongst the galaxy's monopolies and had the dubious reputation one might expect from such an organization.

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Soran watched as the Nano-material spread over his skin, ending in the formation of tight gloves that hugged the grooves in his bony hands. Each finger was tipped with a circular pad coated with micro magnets. Useful for maneuvering around corners or over obstacles out in the vacuum. The Horizon’s autopilot system engaged their descent, causing Ranna and El to exchange a glance of urgency.

“It's time” Ranna exclaimed, making a swift beeline to the cargo hold to coordinate the jump. The Horizon weaved itself into the asteroid belt and through the small sections of unbroken glass, Soran saw the bright headlights of the train approaching. Although not the most elegant of vessels, its size was magnificent. Plowing through the asteroids like they were motes of dust floating through the air. Ranna switched to manual control, clutching a steering lever in each hand and guiding the Horizon into place. After leveling her out and synchronizing the acceleration, they hovered directly in the path of the oncoming ship.

No more than a few seconds passed before the train shot above them, missing their hull by a matter of feet. Soran stared in amazement through the skylight, sharp green lighting on the underside of each segment beaming onto his face. He felt a nervous smile break through the fear at the thought of what he was about to attempt. He wondered what Lanic would say if he could see him now. Joined up with a bunch of scoundrels and on a mission to tackle a Pirate Lord. Not in his wildest dreams would this reality have played out, but making the best of a bad situation had always been a talent of his. Ever since arriving on the Hyacinth, he had no say in how the events in his life played out. Learning to accept that if he couldn't control something, he wouldn't allow it to bother him. This was one of those situations.

“Increase acceleration. We want section forty-five.” El ordered as Ranna scanned the imprinted numbers on the underside of each segment. Currently hovering beneath number two hundred seven, it was time to show what the Horizon could really do. Ranna titled the twin sticks under his palms and released two blades of the Horizon's crown, hastening their ascent through the numbered carriages. Each of the Horizons' eight dorsal blades contributed significantly to her speed. This made her a much easier target for an enemy combatant and thus, the blades generally remained retracted.

“There it is,” El said, pointing to the glowing digits under segment forty-five. Ranna plotted a fresh course into the navigation chart. The Horizon would shepherd itself to a nearby planetoid, awaiting his signal to assist in the crew's getaway. Soran was surprised at the meticulousness of the plan, despite an air of suspicion around the uneventful way in which it was playing out.

Pulling up alongside the cargo train, their presence seemed to have remained unnoticed.

“Sixty seconds starts now. Tugg get those doors open.” Ranna barked his commands, pressing the clamps on his neck and triggering a thin film of liquid that began enveloping his face. Intruding over every inch of skin, the liquid entered his mouth, nose, and ears. Once the process was complete, he took a deep breath, confirming the oxygen was flowing into his lungs without issue. The other crew members followed suit. All except Tugg, whose breathing apparatus had vacuum-survival technology already built-in. Interlocking metal plates sprung from the device, cocooning his head in a protective dome; Two glass viewing portals on either side allowing him to retain a complete range of vision. They engaged their Maglev boots to avoid being sucked out into the vacuum. The rear doors swung upward, revealing the underside of the cargo train only a few feet above their heads.

Ranna pointed upward and began the treacherous climb onto the roof of his ship. The Horizon was wider than it was long, its wings fanned out into four smaller segments; The configuration which maximized stability. Ranna positioned himself for the climb, signaling to the others to follow once his footing was secured. Soran and El went first, keeping a close eye on the passing asteroids. Maintaining constant vigilance to avoid passing beyond the protective shielding of the Horizons wings. The ship was generating a gravitational field and one false step out of bounds would expose them to the true velocity at which they were traveling. Magtech or no, they would be torn from the hull before they could even blink. Tugg was last up, sealing the rear door behind him before performing a graceless ascent to the crew. With the four of them in formation, they were ready to make the jump.

Ranna looked down at the Holo-screen orbiting his wrist. Twenty seconds remained. He pointed both of his fingers into the air and stood up, clasping his magnet-tipped fingers to the underside of the train. The gravitational fields of both vessels had merged, creating a brief pocket of transference. His boots released their grip on the Horizon and he pulled himself up, reengaging the boot's magnetic locks and attaching himself firmly to the cargo train. Once secured, he signaled his crew to follow. El and Tugg copied his motions exactly and transference was achieved in one fluid motion. Only Soran remained. He watched Ranna stare at his wrist, a glaze of panic bleaching his Captain's already ghostly complexion. With a sudden jolt, the gap between himself and the crew widened, the Horizon proceeding with its new course. Time was up and Soran was out of choices. He stretched his body to its physical limits, unable to reach the receding surface above. Without hesitation, he squatted into a crouch and disengaged the locks on his boots. Using all of his strength, he propelled himself upward, reaching to the outstretched hands of the Horizon crew. Soran locked eyes with Ranna, his expression soured with dismay. In a flash of emerald lightning, the train hurtled into the distance and the Horizon crew were out of sight. Verdant bursts of light were passing overhead at dizzying speeds. This was his only chance. The one glimmer of hope to see his mentor again. With a final burst of energy, he lunged his hand forward, clasping the magnetic grip of his glove onto the underside of a carriage. A dull cluck was followed by an intense, throbbing pain. Although successful, his unorthodox transference attempt had left his arm a splintered wreck. Exploded blood vessels formed a dark jungle of crimson vines that twisted around his shaking limb.

Shuddering with the pain, he turned his head and watched the train depart from the asteroid belt, making its descent to the moon's surface. An emerald glow flickered in his periphery, a fluorescent number engraved into the hull. He smiled as he mouthed the words. Three hundred.