CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ranna hoisted Tugg to his feet. The sealant spray had welded the stump that was once his arm into a metallic cap. For better or worse, that's how it would remain until they could get him to a machinist. Tugg examined the Thistlegore's damage, gazing with a sorrowful expression at his lost appendage. It was a purely sentimental emotion as prosthetics were more common in the galaxy than biological limbs, and a damn sight more useful.

El patted Tugg on the back and the three crewmates shared a brief moment of reflection. They were alive. Despite Soran being less than useless in the battle and having to rely on the pity of Captain Hallow, they had survived the ordeal. The respite, however, was never destined to last long.

“Do we have a backup?” asked El, wondering what her Captain had planned now that their pirate hunter ace had proved to be another nobody, masquerading beneath a cloak of competence.

“Think on our feet, as always. We’ve been up against guys like Kaligan before. Nothing we can’t handle.” Ranna said, putting his arm around Tugg as he spoke. Pushing morale further into the mud now would be suicide so giving his crew a flicker of hope was the only solace he could provide. Ranna knew all about the ferocity of Lord Kaligan and even if the boy had been all he was cracked up to be, the odds were stacked against them.

They followed in Hallow's footsteps and before long were confronted with the previously pirate-occupied cavern. Stepping through an invisible barrier of vitality, alarm tones wrang out from their suits. The artificial atmosphere had dissipated, leaving the once oxygen-rich mines a desolate tomb.

The hunters quickly activated their helmets, taking a deep breath as the oxygen flowed into their lungs like a gentle breeze.

“Puncture in the AA?” asked El, examining the readouts on her environmental scanner. Until now the use of their helmets had not been strictly required, though exploring an alien landscape unprotected went against Ranna's better judgment.

Though the causes remained a mystery, a malfunction in the artificial atmosphere was the only logical answer. Ranna was horrified at the torrent of icy dead, streaming towards the surface like a macabre waterfall. Their Magtech boots were the only thing preventing them from joining the rising Kahbohl graveyard. Chunks of loose rock peeled from the jagged cliffs that surrounded them. The volatile nature of the compromised mine produced an endless succession of violent tremors as the very fabric of the moon began to erode. The tectonic crackling was drowned by the thunderous clap of the Banshee cannon. Ranna clocked the silhouettes of the goliath vessels above him and realized he had once again marched his crew into a quagmire of war.

“He's insane,” said Ranna, knowing that no man in his right mind would willingly stand against the might of a Naval Citadel. His thought had barely even formed before it morphed into a reckless endeavor, the kind he had become infamous for. He strode toward the spiral of corpses and, to the shock of his team, disengaged the locks on his Magtech boots. His body began to float. He motioned the others to follow him to which they unquestioningly obliged, joining the river of decay headed toward the moon's surface. Snatching at the glimmer of opportunity without a second thought, Ranna had made his move.

As their line of sight breached the surface, the hunters were confronted with a waltz of cosmic violence. Titanic steel behemoths, locked together in a struggle for supremacy. Ranna was frightened by what he saw. Alone, the mammoth scale of the interstellar constructions was enough to impress upon a man his insignificance. However, witnessing the vessels interlocked by a dozen hooked cables weaved the illusion of a tentacled monstrosity, risen from the depths to devour its prey. Not since the calamity had a pirate initiated an attack on a Naval ship and witnessing the Gallowmare take the upper hand was beyond comprehension. Whatever method Kaligan had employed in the enhancement of his ship far surpassed anything his predecessors could muster. Underestimating the pirates had exposed the Navy as woefully unprepared.

The Banshee’s second attack had detached three of the Gallowmare’s cables, this time successfully managing to puncture her previously impenetrable shields. Rivers of Nano-diesel wept from her hull, submerging the pirates in an explosive mist that, if ignited, would reduce the entire moon to a fine powder.

“There's our welcome mat,” Ranna said, pointing toward the crackling tare in the Gallowmare's shield. With a wave over their wrist-mounted interface, the maglocks were substituted with the series of thrumming jets. Kicking off from the dusty surface, the Horizon crew sailed through the debris-laden atmosphere, praying to remain unseen.

The adversarial titans of war continued their exchange of heavy artillery, polluting the hunter's path with the sizzling remnant of spent plasma.

Struggling to adjust to avian navigation, Tugg sailed in a clumsy zig-zag, narrowly avoiding being slammed against what remained of the Gallowmare’s shields. The Resonance field was hemorrhaging diesel at close to critical levels and had formed an archipelago of bloody orbs that surrounded the vessel. As they entered through the fissure in the ship's port-side, the combustible mist coated their charcoal suits with a crimson film.

Upon landing, Ranna reengaged his Maglocks, bolting himself to the webbed metal flooring of the ship. He turned to check on his crew. El landed gracefully and shot a smile at her Captain, visibly excited by the battlefield they had just survived. Tugg, on the other hand, stumbled, tripping over himself and landing face-first at Ranna’s feet. The Captain couldn't help but chuckle as Tugg grunted his way up, swatting away his Captain's offer of assistance. With a simultaneous nod, they headed in the direction of what they hoped was the bridge, charging through the questionably constructed corridors.

Advancing further along the cramped throughways, they passed steam-soaked weapon bays, crowded with armored bodies. Their over-muscled bodies were ornamented with a tapestry of steel, rope, and bone; The conquest of untamed worlds, fashioned into plates of primitive defense. Each pirate manned his station with unwavering devotion, attempting to repair the multiple hull breaches they had sustained. Ranna saw a wild stream of exhilaration pouring from their souls, desperate to prove themselves and climb the chain of carnage that led to Kaligan's admiration.

With the chaos of battle and defiant screams of adrenalin masking their footsteps, the Horizon crew infiltrated the Gallowmare in a procession of veiled footsteps and silent commands.

After ascending a series of skeletal ladders and arriving at what they hoped was the ship's bow, their progression was halted by an immovable slab of rusted metal purposed as a gate. It was adorned with innumerable fractured restraints. The bridge gate was a testament to Kaligan's leadership, an homage to all those he had freed from imprisonment. The current incarnation of the Gallowmare was constructed using materials scavenged from the ruined prisons Kaligan had destroyed during his crusade to free his pirate brothers from naval subjugation. Upon depletion of its inmate population, he commanded the structure be demolished. The scrap was then collected and used to reinforce his ship's hull. Over time, countless layers of sheet metal were grafted to the once illustrious vessel, ushering into being the current incarnation of the Gallowmare. Seeing the results of Kaligan’s conquests displayed so vaingloriously put Ranna on edge, his mask of confidence slipping.

El's part in the production had arrived. She took charge of the situation, signaling the men over to a narrow passageway to the left of the gate.

“I'll go ahead and scout.” She said confidently.

“There's no way you’re going alone” Ranna replied. With a solo mission likely to result in a prolonged and painful death, he knew the only chance of overpowering Kaligan was combining what little strength they had. El paid no attention to her captain's protests, looking down at the pulsating beacon strapped to her waist. She tapped the device twice, ensuring her backup was in place. Clicking the clamps on her neck, the helmet portion of her suit detached, leaving the suit to roll over her body like the peel of a fruit. The receding Nano-material revealed a stealth-skin beneath, a technology that allowed her to indulge in her abilities whilst retaining her dignity. She stepped out of the boots touching her bare feet to the floor, her skin turned a gunmetal grey and ice crystals began to form on her exposed flesh.

“Privacy?” She asked, motioning Ranna and Tugg to turn around. They both did as instructed, now feeling slightly embarrassed about their objections. She raised her hands to her face, covering her eyes and taking in a deep breath. As she pulled her hands away and slid them over her body her skin turned translucent, the cable-infested plating behind her becoming visible. Though they were familiar with the technique, El's ability was still a profound mystery to both Tugg and Ranna; And as was tradition on the Horizon, they would never pry into matters, not of their concern.

Squeezing through a gap at the side of the gate, El snuck past her comrades and into the hazardous territory that was the Kaligan's bridge. Ranna and Tugg turned, only to catch a glimpse of light reflecting off El's hair before she disappeared entirely. All they could do now was wait and hope. Having saved them from the jaws of death more times than Ranna could remember, putting his faith in El wasn't all that difficult to do. Whether he was torn apart by Veng or Kaligan, it didn't matter. Both ended in him and his crew as corpses and he was unwilling to entertain such an unsavory end to their lives. Now began the painstaking task of doing absolutely nothing as someone he cared for risked their life to save his once again.