CHAPTER FIVE

Soran stumbled into a vast lockup, a labyrinth of towering cargo containers, emblazoned with the Navy's golden anchor sigil. The vast vaulted roofs seemed to extend out forever and the dim tube lighting coated everything in a dreary amber haze. Soran climbed onto a dubious pyramid of stacked crates and peered into the distance. On the far side of the expanse he caught sight of the control room door, and for now, the route was unoccupied. Before he could make a move, he heard footsteps stalking the corridor. Scampering down from his perch, he hid behind a stack of munitions cases and stilled his panicked breathing with a shaking hand. In his haste, he knocked the topmost crate to the ground. The locking mechanism malfunctioned, springing open the lid and emptying its contents at his feet. Wracked with panic, he pawed at the scattered materials, attempting to conceal them from whoever was approaching. A strange collection of oddities pooled around his knees. Stacks of old books bound with wire, antiques from a more primitive time. Strange notes covered in indecipherable sketches peeked from between the time-worn pages. The contents looked like they belonged in a museum and for Soran, it was the first time he had felt a real book. He stroked at the coarse leather that bound the rabble of rugged sheets, imagining the skilled hands it had been constructed by. As he fingered through the items he felt a peculiar warmth traverse his body. He unraveled a piece of cloth that was bound by several lengths of thin rope. Crackling as it opened, the material felt like it had been bundled for centuries, harboring some secret that was never meant to be revealed. He discovered inside a small metallic object which emanated a gentle glow in his palm. Peculiar incisions and protruding tabs faceted its edges, it appeared to be a missing part of a greater whole. His hand hovered over the object. Apprehensive fingers attempted to glance its pristine surface but were held back by an undercurrent of anxiety. After a series of deep, reassuring breaths, he ran his fingers across its pointed edges. He shivered as a surge of energy pulsed through his entire body. This was no electrical shock. Prickling and unwelcome at first, the sting mellowed into a gradual, comforting wave. The serenity faded almost as quickly as it had arrived. His body grew heavy and his feet morphed into anchors, dragging him below. He felt himself sinking, the ground becoming sand, opening up to swallow him whole. With a flick, his wrist fell limp and the object fell from his hand, skipping along the ground with a series of clinks. The unnatural weight faded and he felt the aftermath of the unexplainable event. His muscles cried out in angry bursts and he heard the unnerving click of bone as he stretched. He stared down at the shard, terrified by its reality-altering effects. It was unlike anything he had felt before.

"You have something that belongs to me." Hissed a voice from behind. He was frozen in place. The footsteps had caught up with him. Soran pushed himself to his feet, turning his head in shaky increments until the origin of the voice appeared in his peripheral vision. A hunched man with narrow shoulders loomed in the doorway, blanketing the boy under an intrusive shadow. He grasped the sides of the door with claw-like hands, craning his vulturous neck to enter the lockup. Soran stepped back, an instinctual attempt at retreat. The bestial way in which the man grinned revealed a row of sharpened, rotten teeth, framed by a long and unkempt mustache. As the stranger continued his advance, Soran felt his body become rigid, seizing up as panic set his muscles like cement. He was stuck in place, unable to take his eyes off the ominous apparition and its intense serpentine stare. The stalking figure averted its gaze and the boy was released from his psychic strangulation, his body allowed a moment of respite. The man had his sights on something else, something that glistened at the boy's feet.

"Do you know of me boy?" the figure questioned with an inquisitive tilt of his head. Soran would not have forgotten someone like this, the encounter terrifying him into a childlike stupor. An affiliation to the pirates was obvious based on appearance alone. That and a discernible lack of any grooming or hygiene.

Piracy was a net to catch those falling into the abyss. Once it had them ensnared by the free-flow of debauchery and credits, they became tools of their respective Lord, ready to wreak havoc on the galaxy. Pirates had always been the antithesis to the rigid rule of the galactic government. Their only laws etched into the pages of the pirate code, Atlazar. Every pirate was forced to pledge their life to this most sacred of tomes or face the wrath of the Pirate King himself. What stood before Soran at this very moment represented everything that made common people afraid to close their eyes at night. He knew there would be no escape from this man, he had to stand his ground. He shook his head in response to the question. The veiled silhouette proceeded with a theatrical bow. Knotted locks of seaweed-like hair swung down to cover a sickly face. He removed the tricorne that had cast such a deep shadow and swept it close to his chest, rising from his insincere bow.

"Ravias Malig of the Bassalark, pleasure." His every word tipped with a poison so vile they were painful to hear. He placed the hat back onto his head and took another baleful step toward the boy. With his eyes wide and mouth running dry, the blood drained from Soran's face; his already pale complexion becoming almost translucent. Malig was indeed a name he had heard before and, not someone he had ever wished to meet. Soran knew him as one of those responsible for the pilfering of the Eureka and consequently, Lanic's suffering. Soran was confused as to why he would show up now and on the Hyacinth of all places. The Balasark possessed advanced stealth technology and was undetectable to even the most cutting edge Navy vessels. He could have stayed hidden, but here he was, wading as deep as he could into enemy territory. Placing his hands behind his back, Malig unsheathed two blades. One was a short knife, its bandage wrapped hilt stained with the blood of innumerable victims. Its counterpart was a longer, dagger-like weapon, its toxic coating gave off an eerie green glow as it cut through the shadows.

"As you saved me the trouble of locating my prize, I'll grant you the mercy of a swift death," Malig said as he admired the ornate craftsmanship of his blades. His prize? The metallic shard at Soran's feet lay motionless. He wondered what a Pirate Lord would want with something like this. It didn't appear to be a valuable treasure, neither did it resemble any weapon he had ever seen. Malig slithered ever closer, his head sunken into his shoulders, and arms hung poised by his side. The loose fit of his mold-riddled trench-coat overwhelming his emaciated carcass. This is how I die? Succumbing to the reality that there would be no escape. Visions of Lanic waiting for him in the Bluebird filled his mind. The hefty task of saving not only his mentor but everyone on the station was an uncomfortable weight on all already overburdened soul. Malig lunged with a predatory ferocity, blades raised like fangs as he struck out for a lethal blow. Soran tripped, his fall broken with a graceless thud. He clawed at the ground in an attempt to escape but it was too late. Clasping his fingers in anticipation, he felt something strange in his right hand. The same wave that had cascaded through his body before occurred once again. This time much stronger and within a second he felt an intense weight push down on his body, his shoulders slamming the ground as if pulled from behind. The ship around him creaked and groaned, its time-weathered carapace struggling against the ethereal power. Soran's elbows sank into the metal plating as it bent under the immense pressure. Falling crates smashed down around him, the debris showering his helpless body. His right hand began to burn as if held over a hot stove. He struggled to pry open his fingers but the counter-force was too great. It felt as if the ship was coming to a turbulent end, the foundations shaking with barbarous violence, crying out for a reprieve. With his body sinking into the warped metal flooring, he was overwhelmed by what surged through his veins. If the crumbling husk of the Hyacinth didn't end him then the shard would finish the job. Without warning, his hand sprung open. Soran's quaking body twitched as the pressure that had pinned him vanished in an instant. The force, whatever it was, had warped the materials around him and yet somehow left him unharmed. To his right, he saw the shard, inanimate in the wake of its destruction. White-hot and with steam rising from one end, its glow was almost blinding. Struggling to believe what had occurred, he scampered into the ruin of a destroyed container, cowering amongst the debris. How could something so small harbor such immense power?

Mesmerized, he was beginning to understand why the pirate had been so set on its retrieval. Malig. He whispered to himself in shock. So overwhelmed, his predicament had been cast from his mind. He reverted in an instant to high-alert, eyes ablaze with trepidation. However, he was met with a suspiciously uneventful scene. Hauled from its haphazard assembly, the stacked cargo lay strewn around the lockup, converted into a bazaar of miscellaneous junk. A smattering of pitiful coughs echoed from under a toppled weapons crate. The whelps had the texture of sludge, forced through a mire of blood. Soran saw a hand reaching out from the wreckage. Crimson stained fingers twitched, one pointing off to the side in a hideous and painful break. Droplets of viscera fell from a slacked jaw, interrupted by shallow pained breaths. Against the will of his aching body, Soran pushed himself to his feet, casting a shadow on a defeated Malig; The pirate crippled and unable to move. Although close to death, his scowl was murderous enough to scare even the reaper. A trickle of life still coursing through his blackened veins. Given mere seconds to catch his breath, footsteps once again echoed beyond his vision. More pirates? That potential reality left the boy sure that the fates had a cruel sense of humor and had chosen him as the day's entertainment. He thought that two pirate attacks and a near-death experience would have been enough. It appeared that his tribulation was destined to endure. He piled the rubble around himself to guarantee he was completely out of sight. A group of heavily armed soldiers burst into the lockup, spreading out in a tactical formation. The footsteps came to an abrupt stop, all except one. The sound of these steps was different and unlike the boots that came before. The boy discerned the clapping of a heel. Peering through a gap in his fortress of refuse, he saw a tall woman with long silver hair casting her vigilant gaze at the defeated pirate. It's Her. The emergency signal must have been broadcast. Where pirates were concerned, the Navy's response time was rapid and, lucky for the Hyacinth a Captain had been close by. He shuddered to think what nightmarish situation might have unfolded otherwise. She crouched to examine Malig's disfigured body. At the sight of the woman, the pirate snarled like a rabid beast. She smiled and sat on the crate that restrained him, further crushing his already shattered body. A howl of pain pierced their ears and trickles of blood drooled from Malig's gaping mouth. Justified though the act may have been, her cruelty made Soran wince. Her platoon of officers was amused by the pirates suffering, chuckling amongst themselves as they watched.

"Show yourself," Soran heard the Captain say. Is she talking to me? Embarrassed and more than a little insulted at the ease with which she had penetrated his camouflage.

"I won't be asking again," she said. Knowing she wasn't to be kept waiting, he crawled out from his hiding place. The four soldiers immediately raised their ion rifles and forced the boy's hands to shoot into the air. It appeared he was far from in the clear.

"Is this your handiwork?" She asked, her eyes shifting to Malig who was making desperate gasps for air like a landlocked fish. Soran hadn't done anything, at least, he had not intended to. But he was in no doubt that Malig's current predicament was due to his unexplainable interaction with the shard. Its glow had since worn off and had returned to a regular slab of unsuspecting metal. Not understanding in the slightest what had happened, he was unable to answer her question. He could only be sure of one thing, he never wanted to touch it again. He gave a skeptical nod in response and in turn, received a hearty chuckle.

"Taken down by a kid, Malig? You really have lost your touch." She jeered. After being congratulated with a round of ardent applause, the Captain threw a sack at Soran. Credit slates, a bag full. More than he would get in a year from working as an engineer. Looking up in amazement, his first thoughts were of his mentor, eager to show off his unbelievable haul. "Lanic!" Soran shouted, attracting unwanted attention from the armed platoon. "The fires! Do, do you know about the leak?" he asked the Captain, tripping over his words in panic.

"My men have the situation under control. You can relax. You've done more than enough for today," she replied, standing up and turning to leave. "Our friend Malig here had a large sum placed on his head by the galactic government. You, young man, have just collected the bounty of the century." She grabbed Malig's arm and with a forceful yank and released him from his snare.

Soran was more than familiar with bounty hunters, introduced to numerous crews whilst fixing up their ships. They would often stop by the Hyacinth looking for leads or perhaps just in need of a refuel. The Navy was not the only show in town when it came to locking up pirates. Hunters came from all walks of life and were tolerated as a necessary evil; Their methods usually deviating outside the bounds of the law. The Navy would more often than not overlook the small liberties taken by the hunters, everyone understanding their part in the overall game. Soran was about as far from a hunter as anyone could be. Yet here he was, with more money than he knew what to do with and his name attached to one of the largest bounties in history.

The Navy Captain continued to drag Malig from the room until his shrieking became distant and muffled. One of her men ran over to where the shard sat, taking great care when placing the object into the cloth it had fallen from. He swaddled it with a delicate precision before following his Captain out of the room. Alone once more, Soran dashed back to the maintenance shaft, sliding down several sets of ladders to the lower decks. Reappearing in the tram tunnels, he navigated his way back to Lanic's clandestine workshop. He slid open the door and to his surprise, the room was filled with people. Three women and half a dozen children sat huddled around the Bluebird.

"Wheres Lanic?" asked Soran, his voice soft and non-threatening in the presence of the terrified children.

"The man with four arms?" one woman replied. He gave a confirmatory nod and her head lowered, the others echoing her somber motion. "They were going to take the children." She said, her words stained with melancholy. "We tried to escape through these tunnels and they caught us. That man is the only reason we're still alive." She wiped tears from her eyes as she spoke, conflicted with guilt and gratitude. "He struggled but, they took him alive," the woman said, trying to instill hope in the defeated young man. Soran looked up and saw his reflection in the shimmering paint of the Bluebird. He was bloodied, bruised, and looked like he hadn't slept in days. One of the children approached him and handed him a piece of Snaggleroot bread. The smell made him recoil but, so as not to be rude, he smiled and started to eat. The women gathered up the children and escorted them from the room. Soran dashed over to the departing group, tapping the shoulder of the closest women.

"Where, did they take him?" he asked.

"I have no clue. I'm sorry," she said, stopping to place a gentle hand on the boy's cheek.

After she left, Soran opened up the Bluebird and sat in the pilot's seat. The stench of cigars and diesel still lingering in the air. He slammed his fists onto the dash, a growl of exasperation escaping his clenched teeth. A screen embedded in the soft leather of the control panel flashed to life. Puzzled, Soran flicked through the menu until an ignition input screen appeared. Bingo. The ignition code was six characters long and with a smirk, Soran typed the obvious answer. EUREKA. The screen flashed red with the false input. Soran tapped the heel of his palm against his forehead, scouring his mind for significant names or numbers. He endured the fruitless struggle for hours until his exhausted body deflated into his seat. He was all out of ideas. Even if he did crack the code, what then? There was no way he could track down the pirate's ship. He was an engineer, not a navigator. Not to mention he was barely free of adolescence, the beginnings of stray whiskers his only foray into manhood. What chance would he have against an entire ship of pirates? He scoffed at the thought of even attempting something so stupid. Pressing his head against the dash he could feel his eyes getting heavy but refused to give up on his mentor. Lanic was all Soran had ever had, and without him, he will have lost the closest thing to family he had ever known.