CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

As the hunters sank into the corrosive abyss, tremors of pain prickled across their exposed skin. Tugg tunneled through the viscous sludge with ease, his crewmates wrapped around his shoulders like a living shawl. Accran physiology presented several advantages in the unfavorable situation. Not only did he possess thick layers of durable skin, but his eyes were also equipped with a secondary protective lens that could be activated with a blink. Despite these assets, he wasn't immune to the caustic effects of the diesel.

The ocean of crackling fluid seemed endless, and any suggestion of an exit still illuded the panicked Accran. The tightening grips of his crewmates confirmed to Tugg that his brief window of time was almost up. El was under targeted attack by the torrent of chemicals, the liquid flooding her porous skin. Ranna flung his arm to the left side of Tugg’s bulbous head; His augmented vision puncturing the tar-like substance enough to reveal the exit hatch. Tugg made a sharp turn and hurtled toward their salvation. He slammed his bulk into the tank's casing and grabbed the interlocking clasps, using his final morsels of energy to pry it open. Stiff with neglect, he struggled against the rusted lock, prising with herculean effort. He noticed the weight of his companions lessen. Turning from his task, he watched as El floated unconsciously through the liquid. Ranna reached up and swung his arm toward her. The momentum was siphoned from his lunge, the crimson ooze determined to claim her life. Though beyond the limits of his reach, he wouldn't allow her to be taken, by anyone or anything. Using Tugg's back as a springboard, he launched himself toward her, narrowly grasping her ankle. He pulled her close and wrapped her lifeless body in his reddened arms as the last of his air exploded from his lips. A flood of corrosive stew filled his mouth. Before he could succumb to his fate, the muted sound of grinding metal filled the tank and the hunters were vacuumed through the exit hatch. Gallons of diesel showered onto their steaming bodies as they choked up lungfuls of crimson sludge. With a final demonstration of inexorable strength, Tugg fought against the liquid avalanche, pulling himself through and slamming the hatch shut behind him.

“She's not breathing,” said Soran, his words punctuated by metrical panting. The boy hunched over El's motionless body, his fingers desperately scanning for a pulse. Ranna pushed him aside, drumming on her chest in rhythmic compressions and exhaling deep gusts of vitality against her diesel-soaked lips.

She wasn’t responding.

Five compressions to the chest and one breath in. This was his healing mantra, his prayer of revival. Countless repetitions and yet, no sign of life. No twitching, no gasp of resurrection, nothing.

Tugg stilled his desire to stop the futility, knowing that Ranna wouldn't stop until he was physically unable to continue. Never had he turned his back when they needed him, and the frenzied look in the Captain's eyes told Tugg that today would be no different.

Ranna started his compressions for what seemed like the hundredth time and when a droplet of crimson leaped onto his face. Pulling his hands away, he noticed something leaking from every inch of El's skin.

Her pores opened and closed like tiny valves, expelling the toxins drop by drop. A wispy thread of air crept through her wavering lips, followed by a much less delicate sputtering of red molasses ejected from her windpipe. Ranna fell back onto his palms, exhaling his relief. El's eyes shot open and she was greeted by the grateful expressions of her crewmates.

“Must, have... needed a nap” El said, curling the corners of her mouth into what could be mistaken for Ranna’s signature grin. The mockery received a pass from the Captain and he mirrored the gesture, comforted by the warm sound of her voice.

“Last time... Soran makes the plan” El added, her statement seconded with a chorus of agreement. The boy nodded, still surprised that minor chemical burns had been the only repercussion of their ill-advised venture.

After a much-needed respite, the crew cleaned wiped away the diesel with some loose cloth in a nearby maintenance closet. They sheltered their blistered skin beneath overly large laborer uniforms, thought Tugg made do with a discarded tarp that El had refashioned into a surprisingly unoffensive cloak.

With their bodies covered and the angry red of their skin calmed by El's revitalizing touch, they proceeded to a set of service ladders which led to the lower decks and hopefully, to the Horizon.

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As they descended deeper into the station, they heard a commotion break out on the upper decks, the Navy’s presence causing major unease amongst the pirates. Small skirmishes had broken out in several establishments, spilling into the streets and escalating into an all-out brawl. It was good news for the fleeing crew whose chances of going unseen had increased dramatically.

They arrived back at the boarding station and fortunately, the Horizon's presence had remained unnoticed. Ranna extended his arms to halt the crew's advance. Experience had taught him that danger often masqueraded as calm, luring unware, overconfident fools to their doom. Suspiciously, they remained unmolested. No stealth platoon of Naval officers to apprehend them, or rogue pirates attempting a hijack.

Nothing.

Although difficult for the Captain to accept, this might just be that elusive lucky break finally rearing its head. Not wanting to spit in the face of fate, he motioned the crew forward, his eyes flickering between the shadowy collonades that dotted the abandoned station.

Every whisper was a threat. Broken tiles crunched beneath their feet and shadowed vermin scurried between cover. The chorus of hushed ambiance from the frenzied activity above offered little comfort to the sneaking band of hunters.

Once his crew was safely onboard, Ranna leaped onto the rear ramp. As he went to pull the ramp's withdrawal lever, he heard the slow tapping of metal clasps approach from behind.

He didn’t want to turn around. He wanted to continue living in a world where something went right for a change. A world where his crew wasn't moments away from imprisonment or death. The hope of such a reality had long been resigned to a realm of naive imagining.

“Close Mr.Ranna, almost lost you there.” Said a thickly accented voice.

Ranna recognized the voice from Veng’s hideout and the gruesome memories rushed back to him with an unwelcome sharpness. They had been followed.

“Here’s what's going to happen. First, you are to relinquish possession of Samael Kaligan. Second, you and your crew will vacate the vessel, yielding possession to the galactic Navy. Finally, you will surrender to me and be escorted to the Hive to serve your respective sentences in full. By the looks of it Mr.Ranna, that will be the rest of your lives. Was that clear enough?” The man delivered his instructions calmly and without laying so much as a finger on his weapon.

“You know I can’t do that Teege,” Ranna replied, glancing over his shoulder at the fur-clad assassin, his hand still hovering over the withdrawal lever. He knew that no matter how quick he was, Teege was quicker.

The stalemate had the entire crew fixed in place. They knew that any sudden movement would trigger Teege to act. Sweat trickled uncomfortably down scowl-laden brows as they waited to see who was brave -- or stupid -- enough to make the first move. If Veng was anything to go by, negotiating on Teege’s demands would not be permitted.

Ranna raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. The others looked on in wide-eyed disbelief. Despite their reticence to accept the situation, there were no other options. Teege held all the cards, and in challenging his undeniable position, they would risk losing everything.

Teege cracked a smile at the hunter's submissive pose. Despite this being the way most of his interactions ended, the ease of persuasion bolstered an already swollen ego. Ranna genuflected to his captor and Teege took the first step toward claiming his fortune.

A bemused sneer infected Teege's perpetually smug grin as his limbs refused the command to advance. He was rooted to the ground. Struggling against this unexplained paralysis, his puzzled expression deteriorated into a grimace of humiliation. A colony of Frystian Crawlers was constructing a glacial net around his feet, using the folds in his cape to avoid detection. Immediately, Teeg's eye's darted upward, just in time to see Ranna's smile vanish behind the exit ramp of the Horizon. He tore the ornate pistol from its holster and opened fire on the Horizons fuel storage. The hail of bullets ricochetted off of a shimmering barrier, colliding with the surrounding pillars and casting shrapnel in every direction. Unfortunately for Teege, El had had the wherewithal to activate their shielding the instant he averted his gaze. He watched helplessly as his legs were enveloped in freezing restraints. Trailed by streams of blue flame, his prize escaped into the tunnel system.

His usual calm and collected persona momentarily vanished, a yell of frustration bursting from his puckered lips. Unsheathing a knife from his belt, he broke apart the web, crushing the crawlers with the butt of his gun before pacing back to the cargo elevator. After a few moments of hesitation, he plucked a communication device from his breast pocket. He took several deep breaths before reluctantly informing whoever was on the other side of the unfortunate news.

"The hunters have escaped."