The Reaver vessels shot off towards Python, hull cherry red and smoking in several places. It struggled to keep its path straight, metal groaning against the forces acting upon it. There was the distinct possibility that the ship would crash into the building. The building would survive - we’d reinforced the structures of the city to be stout and capable of weathering intense impact damage. Even so, they weren’t invulnerable, and it was without doubt that if that ship hit the building, everyone on the vessel would be crushed.

At full burn, it took two minutes to reach Python, “We’re on approach, keep it steady, Python.”

Yamak responded to Emilia with a weak chuckle, “Doing my best. I could use a shoulder to lean on soon.”

The good humor shrunk away then, as a pane of metal four meters long stripped away from the left wing. The larger vessel began to twist in air before Yamak regained control with a snarl, straining against a rebellious flight stick.

Emilia’s turned her ship parallel to the slowing projectile that was Python, gently easing in over top of it. Grasping arms normally meant for weapons modules extended, straining against the wind. “Alright, easy does it,” I heard Emilia murmur, inching closer.

Wind buffeted her ship, streaming around Python and making both vessels even rougher to fly. “Sixty seconds,” I heard the A.I. keep time, just before Emilia reduced the distance between the two to mere meters.

“Just gonna be a little bump,” she told Yamak, “connection in 3… 2… 1.”

The Reaver grasped onto plating and grooves, a few of which were docking clamps designed for just such a purpose.

Granted, that purpose would generally be in a zero-grav environment, not atmosphere.

There was a single gut-sinking moment when both vessels shook violently, seeking to yank apart from one another in the slip-stream of movement.

The Python was three times the size of Emilia’s Reaver, however, and with superior control the flight leader managed to stabilize the shaking, and hugged the dead-engine hulk close.

“Alright, connected. Beginning to decelerate now.” Emilia spoke, the thrusters on her vessel gradually decreasing as metal panes flared.

There was an appreciable effect, and both Emilia and Yamak’s capacity for piloting was on full display as they worked off each other's efforts to slow and stabilize.

But it wasn’t enough to slow the behemoth down.

“Forty five seconds. We’re not slowing fast enough.” Emilia’s A.I. announced with trepidation.

“Alright, new plan.” Lani Barton, the third pilot of the Reavers, spoke, “Augustus, sending you my idea.”

I pulled the design en route, copying it for myself.

“This is psychotic,” I almost thought I said the thought out loud before I realized Augustus himself said it. He grinned, “Alright, let's give it a go. Emilia, brace, we’re gonna add on to the hug.”

“There’s no room up here, so you’d better have a better plan.” She grit her teeth, Reaver jarring and quaking again as she tried to push the deceleration further.

“We’ve got you.” Lani answered, “just brace, this’ll be rough.”

The command room was silent, save for the feverish clacking of commands into the air-pad itself. Broad mechanical plates moved into position, many with devices that would aid in the event of a fire, or a rough landing.

That would certainly come in handy, and as I paid witness to the plan that the Reaver’s were enacting, I couldn’t help but clench my fists tightly.

Lani and Augustus slowed, both parallel and to the sides of Python. With thirty seconds left, they were in position, and as one increased the thrust on their Reavers.

Then spun in opposite directions mid-air, hanging nearly upside down in their cockpits as their bellies faced the larger space faring vessel above them. Next to me I heard the Flight Commander suck in a deep breath and hold, eyes glued to the screen as Augustus and Lani moved closer. Their A.I. companions served as their second set of nerves, correcting minor mistakes that would spiral into utter disaster.

“Just a group hug, nothing to worry about.” Augustus breathed, “We’re connecting now!”

Both of them smacked into the sides of the ship, unable to waste time with being gentle. Grasping arms and implements held onto the fronts of the wings, dead engine mounts, and even the intake vents.

“Slow, now!” Emilia shouted, now only twenty seconds from the landing.

Air-brakes flared as the Reaver’s connected their controls to one another, reading their movements perfectly. Each engine rotated on the back mount, pointing as far forward as possible. With each pointing in the same angle, they narrowly avoided sending the craft spiraling out of control.

Hard burn thrusters roared over the city as the Python slowed.

“Python, we’re about to let you go, brace!” Emilia quickly informed Yamak.

“Understood!” He clenched his teeth, now completely releasing any hold he had over the controls. They wouldn’t matter now, it would be all up to how fast he came in, and how effective our air-base was.

As one, the Reavers fell away like the petals on a dying flower, the thrust of their engines tapering off after a moment, just enough to put some distance between themselves and the tower. They twirled mid air, hovering moments later to witness whatever might transpire.

I felt the semi-sentient A.I. of the airbase flare into full life then, banks of computational power in the wall behind us whirring, heat soaring as coolant pumped through the blocks like blood.

The upscaled version of the Reaver air-base pads surged, meters of interlocking plates of steel surging upwards, several inflating, gelatin-like sacks gushing over the metal. Moments before Python hit the steel, orange concussion foam and dense, rapidly hardening gel seemed to simply appear, meters of the material. The Catcher was an apt name for the field, plates angling to make for a rough landing, but a survivable one, friction bleeding off more force as the many pistons and flexing arms beneath the field strained to bleed off even more momentum and prevent the ship from bouncing. Ahead, the field rose up, like a ramp, the edges grasping down and flexing, keeping from any hard stop, but grinding against the sides of the ship.

In the center of the field, the plates halted the rest of the momentum, gripping the vessel tightly as sticky, rapidly hardening chemicals pumped up from directly beneath the ship. The air-pad carefully moved to flatten out, the chemicals already concrete hard after only a few seconds of air exposure.

Python rested on a flat, unmoving air-field a few moments later, most of the foam disintegrating or melting into channels to be recycled for future use. Likewise, the concrete-like substance that had in seconds thickened and hardened now degraded just as rapidly, returning to liquid form and melting between the grates into channels where it too could be reused after some processing.

The command room boomed with cheers at the successful rescue, and at the highly-impressive air-field itself. This was our standard issue, and it was more than just impressive.

“This is Python,” relief bled from Yamak’s voice, “we’re safe on this beautiful landing pad. I owe you Reaver’s a drink.”

“We’ll hold you to it,” Emilia’s smile was evident even in her words, “Reavers returning to docking.”

The trio surged forward and upwards, forming a triple-helix before diving back down to three portions of the pad further from the grounded vessel. The pad flexed as they landed, making it even gentler before evening out.

After a few minutes of checks and ensuring that Python wasn’t about to explode, the crews of the vessels met in person.

I watched Yamak step from the ship, stretching nonchalantly as though he hadn’t just nearly faced death. From behind him I was surprised to see Uthaka, a towering reptile-like alien called a Saurian, who fell to his knees outside of the ship, looking thoroughly sick to his stomach. And another, behind him, another reptilian like race, upper half very similar to humans, but with the lower body of a long, huge snake. She was Princess Arianna, a Scynoi, if I recalled correctly, and happened to know an impressive amount of human culture.

Finally, though, was a man clad in black armor that shined like polished obsidian, red highlights beaming forth from places like the face-plate. The being was too slim to be a human, the head both less wide and taller, and moved with an ephemeral, peaceful grace that seemed quite at the ready to warp into a crimson dance of violence at a moments notice.

Querax, another Reaper. A true Reaper.

Seeing the four of them, though, begged the question…

...Why were they all here, now?

Quickly, they were met by the utterly irreverent Reavers, pleasantries and excitement exchanged between them. I realized that a weight lifted off of my chest at the sight, I’d feared that perhaps our difference in species might be an issue for some. Perhaps it would, but in the least, it wasn’t here.

As they made their way down the stairs, the command room greeted them exuberantly. I smiled, walking forward and meeting Yamak.

In person, for the first time, I noticed that he was shorter than me. And yet, he bore a kind of smooth confidence, and yet felt as though he didn’t take himself too seriously.

There was a moment when the focus of the room was on us, a brief span of quiet as we assessed one another.

We reached to clasp hands at the same time, my helmet coming off as we grinned, “Glad you could make it.”

“Whew, almost didn’t,” Yamak laughed, “your species is crazy, you know that?”

I blinked at that, “We generally think that too.”

Querax chuckled lightly, drawing his companions attention to him instantly.

He offered nothing else though, simply studying me.

“Come, you’re all welcome around. For now, I’ll receive you in my office, then we’ll see what's gone on. I’m very interested in finding out what happened to your ship.”

Yamak nodded, “Sure. And, if you’re anything like me, you’ll find what happened to be very, very interesting.”

I glanced at the man, seeing a glint of something like hunger, or excitement within his eyes. Whatever had happened, he seemed to be quite fired up from it.

I’d find out what that was soon. But it wouldn’t be in good taste to have my guests interrogated the moment they just got out of a crashed ship.