CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Chased by a hail of bullets, the Horizon accelerated away at maximum thrust. A final barrage of pincer rounds snapped at their heels as they broke free from the moon's gravitational clutches. Now, cloaked in a blanket of stars and with their prize intact, the Horizon crew were finally safe.

The cargo bay doors slammed shut behind them, the mechanical hiss of pneumatic pistons muffling the Captain's screams. El rushed to Ranna’s aid. She unclasped his helmet, prompting the Nano-material suit to recede into its compacted form. Ranna’s wound bled profusely, and his eyes flickered like the wings of an ensnared insect. Convulsions wracked his body as he entered the initial phase of cardiac arrest.

El panicked. Scouring her immediate surroundings for medical supplies. The ship was smothered in a haze of deafening confusion. A potent chorus of alarm tones infused with Tugg's anxious yelping as he scrambled to help. El felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up, met with the face of their savior.

“I got your message,” said a demure voice from behind her.

“Soran!” She screamed, grabbing onto his arm in disbelief. She looked down at the beacon on her waist. The color had turned blue without her noticing, indicating her signal had been received. She had calculated the likelihood of interception was slim and a rescue bordered on the impossible, yet here he was. From the distant look in his eyes, she could tell the smile was just for show. Something inside the boy had changed. He knelt beside her and pulled out a set of syringes, each containing a fluorescent liquid. Soran injected one after the other into what remained of Ranna’s arm. The first stopped the flow of blood. The second sealed up the wound, drawing the skin together like puckered lips. The final syringe had the strangest effect of all. El and Tugg observed with morbid curiosity, disgust tugging at the corners of their eyes. A small shoot dug its way through Ranna’s skin, growing into what looked like a fleshy tadpole. After a few seconds, five small appendages sprouted from its bulbous tip, their mucusy coating glistened under the lamp-light.

“He's growing another arm?” Asked El, half horrified and half amazed.

“Swiped them from the Navy med-lab on the way here. Doctors back on the Hyacinth would use these after accidents. Only if the patient refused a prosthetic that is. Some folks prefer to stay all-natural,” Soran said, letting out a chuckle and dropping onto the bench behind him. Tugg looked over at the ever-expanding fleshy mass climbing its way from Ranna’s body and pulled back in disgust. He held his stump protectively to let Soran know that he would not be going next.

“I took them for you. You know, to make up for what happened.” Soran said in an attempt to win back favor.

Tugg let out a grunt of appreciation and pointed at the boy with a puzzled look on his face.

“I was thinking that too. How did you find the Horizon? And, more importantly, how did you find us?” El asked, unable to comprehend how a boy who had almost gotten them killed had pulled off such a daring rescue.

“Blind luck I guess. I managed to get on board the Navy vessel which is a whole story in itself. Luckily, I stumbled into the communications server room and when I saw the flashing beacon, I knew the mission wasn't going to plan.” Said Soran. His gaze swept to the ground, unsure how far he should proceed with the retelling of his grueling tale. He figured that even after the rescue, he was still pretty high up on their shit-list. At this point, honestly was his best bet.

“I hesitated on coming back for you guys.” He said, pausing to gauge her reaction. El met his words with a slow and understanding nod and Tugg sighed in response. After the sour ordeal of his exile, it was understandable that risking his life to save them might not be his top priority.

“But then I saw it. One of the scanners in the server room picked up the Horizon on radar and it was docked pretty close. Felt like a sign, you know? Something told me that I couldn't leave you guys, I knew I had to come back. So, I grabbed a bag of supplies, found an opening in the hull and the rest is history.” He finished with a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal, despite having nearly been killed several times both on his way to the Horizon and during his rendezvous with the hunters.

El cast an anxious glance at Ranna. He was still out cold from a combination of shock and the questionable dose of medication that Soran had administered. She jumped at the slouched boy, embracing him in a heartfelt hug. Her skin radiated a vivid purple, a hue that Soran had not yet witnessed. The stream of emotion was intense. His body flooded with warmth and his skin became buttery soft as he melted into the embrace. He was torn from his moment of bliss by the heavy hand of Tugg, patting him on the back. A congratulatory purring sound whistled from his gills as another unnerving hundred toothed smiled presented itself.

Soran spotted the frozen, egg-shaped object hanging from Ranna's belt. He was unable to discern exactly what was beneath the pearly exterior, but upon examining the silhouette, a chill crept over his skin.

“For a second there, I thought Ranna was carrying a severed head.” The boy said, laughing nervously. His joke was met with the wide-eyed gaze of both El and Tugg.

“Kaligan,” El said, pointing at the object. Soran's mind was catapulted into a preposterous realm of unease. As he continued to stare, his peripheral vision was vignetted and the outline of the skull came into focus. He could see it now. The sunken recesses of the eyes and the imposing jut of an iron chin. Veiled beneath this silken sheet was the face of terror that had forced upon him the vilest of misdeeds. The man he had been so afraid of, reduced to an ornament, hanging from a hunter's belt like a sidearm. He couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a smile of joy or relief, but righteousness. At least for today, the galaxy had experienced a glimmer of the justice it deserved.

“Our course is already set to Valaterra. I assume that's our next destination?” Soran asked El as the two wandered over to the cockpit.

“Ranna wants the Veng situation finished and I want that thing gone.” She said, pointing at the head. Tugg held it at arm's length as he moved it into a Cryo-cylinder.

The tired hunters sprawled out in the worn pilot chairs, finally able to take a breather; A moment of respite to process recent events. El punched in a message to the console and shot it off to Veng, informing him they would be returning shortly with his prize.

“If Ranna ever mutters the words 'Pirate-Lord' again, you can count me out,” said Soran. El laughed, nodding in solidarity. Even though they were unlikely to have a say in future endeavors, this mission hadn't been worth their measly share of the bounty. Dealing with another Kaligan was not an experience they would ever, willingly, endure again.

-----

Sliding doors whistled open in welcome as Noctei and her escorts arrived on the Plata Lanza's bridge. The ominous silence of absent personnel stalked the atmosphere. The brief pockets of noise ferried from the repair effort offered little solace to the Captain.

Stood before the immensity of the viewing portal was a solitary man. The faint glow of nearby stars seemed to dim in reverence to his gaze, burrowing into the perpetual ebony canvas of deep space. Smoke poured over his broad shoulders, navigating the overly muscled curves of his arms and drifting to the floor in a noxious mist.

Noctei fell to one knee, her closed fist pulled in salute to the left side of her chest.

“Admiral Hail, I am honored that you requested my presence.” She said with feigned confidence, despite the vigorous shaking of her limbs. Being in such close proximity to his overwhelming aura terrified her. Without speaking a word or the slightest movement of muscle, all would be on a knife's edge; Awestruck by the majesty that those who had attained the rank of Admiral so effortlessly embodied.

Hail stared out over the moon's ruptured surface. The steaming wreckage of the Gallowmare remained afloat through the sheer will of its crew. Those still aboard worked ceaselessly to quell the flames of ruptured machinery, unable to accept the battle was over. Noctei hoped that her technical defeat of the pirates would result in leniency from her superior. The Admiral, however, was not known for his compassion.

A diagram depicting the Lanza’s schematics was projected onto the plated glass of the viewing portal. The results of the raid were far worse than she could have imagined. Two-thirds of the ship were flashing red, symbolizing critical damage or complete loss of function. All remaining areas were yellow which implied significant damage had been sustained. Only the bridge, where they currently stood, and the engine room they so staunchly defended remained green. The verdict was clear. Captain Noctei’s failure had been catastrophic. Billions of credits would need to be allocated to cover the repair costs alone. Not to mention recruiting replacements for the countless personnel she had so carelessly allowed to be slaughtered.

The Admiral turned to face her, exhaling a sinuous cloud of smoke. He dropped his cigarette and extinguished it under his silver-tipped boots. His grimace alone was enough to reduce most men to a quivering mess. Even with her iron constitution, the Captain had great difficulty maintaining contact with the piercing slate of his eyes. He approached the kneeling woman, urgency absent in his advance. Hail’s large frame smothered her with its daunting shadow, the metallic click of each footfall growing ever closer. He knelt before her, bringing his face within inches of hers. His ashen skin was cratered with scars, covered by long streaks of grey hair that fell from a receding hairline. He perched motionless, blowing heavy streams of smoke laced breath directly onto her skin, brushing the loose strands of hair from his face.

Their eyes locked. Beads of sweat dripped down the back of the Captain's neck with ever-increasing speed. The collar on her uniform felt tight, and her breaths felt lacking. Hail's bodyguards knelt in a crescent formation, their hands clutched to their chests, all gasping for air. Whisps of steam rose the intricate network of pipes that ran the room's circumference; the metal casing burned white-hot, hissing with the liquid current that boiled within. The beads became runnels of sweat, flowing from the Captian's brow. Each breath pilfered of nourishment by the infernal climate of the bridge. One by one, the bodyguards fell, reaching toward the Admiral for help. Noctei stared at Hail through the haze of humidity. He remained unaffected by the heat that plagued her and his men. She watched as a grin crept into the corner of his mouth, revealing a row of smoke-stained teeth.

“Warm?” Hail asked. His voice was all leather and oak and it rumbled from deep within his gravel-pitted lungs.

He wound back his right arm, the flawless gold of his anchor stamped ring glistening in the starlight. Before she could blink, the ringed fist connected with the orbital bone of the defenseless Captain. Her head bounced onto the steps behind her, her skull yielding to the metal in a hideous crunch. A wail of pain escaped her lips, scraping through the dryness of her throat.

The heightened temperature in the room subsided within seconds and Hail’s squad rose to their feet. Not one dared mutter even a single syllable of complaint about what had occurred.

Hail cracked his fingers, the crunch of discipline escaping his fractured knuckles. Noctei wheezed, clamoring for air. One of her lungs had been punctured during the impact, shards of bone lodged in the hemorrhaging organ. Her left eye was swollen shut, a trickle of black blood oozing from the wound. A single strike from the Admiral had proven almost lethal. It appeared that even the strength of a decorated Captain was leagues beneath that of the being that towered over her.

Placing her hand in the blood that pooled beneath her, she clawed her way back to the kneeling position. Hail looked on, in silent admiration of her tenacity.

“Kaligan’s gone,” Hail whispered as he lit up another cigarette.

“Do you think I've forgotten what you were Noctei? What you are. Just because you wear our colors don't think that makes you one of us. Indra might have taken pity on you, but one more screw up and you won't have any legs to kneel on” He took deep draws on the cigarette, regarding the defeated Captain as blood dripped from her face, soiling the pristine walkway of his bridge.

“You have three days. Bring him back and ill consider looking the other way on today's events,” he said as he walked out, patting her gently on the head as he passed by.

“Three days.”

The doors glided to a close behind the Admiral and his Valkyrie unit. Noctei was left alone to wallow in her defeat. Gradually, she found the will to stand, fighting against the crippling pain of her broken ribs and the hideous migraine brewing in the back of her skull. She gazed out over the wreckage of the Gallowmare and began to tremble. She had been overrun by an archaic wreck and its barbarian crew. Embarrassed and forced to endure the wrath of Hail, all because she couldn't defend against a solitary ship. Bloody tears rolled down her cheek, leaving reddened streaks of anguish in their wake. Revenge would be the only remedy to satiate the boiling rage. Revenge on the man who had humiliated her and murdered her crew. She was going to kill Kaligan.