CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Vying for supremacy with the blare of alarm tones, barking plasma bolts flew between the warring masses. Hive guards clashed with an ever-expanding contingent of escaped prisoners in a desperate battle to regain control of their facility.

With reckless abandon, Kaligan hoisted the battered bodies of his captives from the lower decks. Tugg and Ranna were thrown from the exit hatch, rolling onto the dusty exterior of the asteroid's surface. Choking clouds of silvery powder were kicked up as their bodies slid over the jagged pebbles. With each breath, rough particles of sediment scratched their throats, the punishing humidity of the artificial atmosphere forming a suffocating cage.

“Gentlemen!” Kaligan announced. He raised his arms in triumph, discarding Soran into the wheezing mound of his crew.

“Your part in the great work will proceed as originally planned. How fortunate for you.”

Ranna attempted to stand. Still uneasy on his feet, he propped his weight on the series of docking containers, brushing the dirt from his face.

“Just tell us what we need to do,” said Ranna, unable to look the pirate in the eyes and risk inviting another beating. Kaligan had, to his displeasure, exhausted his punishment allowance. He needed the men in fighting shape; Though after examining their current state of disrepair, he conceded that crawling shape would have to suffice.

“The heart of the Hive hides a most wondrous secret. Mr.Hunter, care to hazard a guess?”

Kaligan's wide-set smile split his face from ear to ear, strands of golden hair ran stray across his forehead. Ranna reluctantly pulled his eyes to meet the pirate's gaze.

The Captain paused for a second, thinking through his answer. He could see it was all a game to the Pirate-Lord. Every step toward his goal would be embellished with pageantry, prolonging the torment of his captives. He was having fun.

“Galneus,” Ranna replied to Kaligan's surprise.

“Mr. Hunter, what knowledge you possess. And to whom does Galneus belong?” He asked, eager to prolong his impromptu quiz.

Upon hearing the name, Soran and Tugg exchanged a cautious glance. The flagship Galneus was the crown of the Pirate mythology, the King of ships. Touted as the first vessel to fly the crossed daggers flag, Galenus was the domain of the original seven. The founding lords.

Unable to expel the foul words from his mouth, Ranna's gaze returned to the ground. He wouldn't believe it. He couldn't.

“Say it!” Barked Kaligan with antagonistic delight.

Ranna had always disregarded the stories. He had heard them of course, through the lips of drunkards on the colonies or in the back-streets of Valaterra. Late-night tales whispered under dim lights were of no interest to him, not then and not now. Pirates were flesh and blood. Magical ships, ancient tomes, and mythical kings were a distraction for those foolish enough to get caught in their spell. For Ranna, every second wasted was a credit that could've been added to his slates. That arrogance had landed him into the pages of myth. Now he was being forced to watch the words peel from the pages, fiction and reality warping together.

“Talas,” Ranna spoke his name quickly but the vile taste lingered on the tip of his tongue.

“He's going to want his ship, and you’re going to get it for him.” Kaligan waltzed over, squatting in front of the man and still meeting him at eye level.

“Time to go” Kaligan rested his metallic paw on Ranna's shoulder, squeezing as he spoke. The recesses between each of Kaligan’s oversized fingers were crusted with the dried blood of him and his crew. Ranna flinched and pulled away, sweat dripping from his brow, pooling around the neckline of his suit.

To have docked inside the Hive and be walking freely was a reality too staggering to believe. Ranna limped behind Kaligan, revulsed by the helplessness of his own bedraggled body. He knew they were walking to their end apathy clouded any sense of dread.

She’ll be fine. He thought to himself, imagining El safely escaping whatever hell the pirate had sent her into. She had always taken care of herself, of him, and Tugg too. This time would be no different. It was the boy, more than anyone else, that he felt sorry for. He watched Soran take step after defeated step, cradling the tattered fingers of his crushed hand. It had been Ranna that had stolen him from his home. Dragged him into a world of degeneracy and violence, all for the sake of greed. Adding more credit slates to his safe had clouded every decision he made, hoping to one day have enough to… He couldn’t finish the thought, even if he wanted to. The galaxy offered no solace to a man like him. There would be no lasting peace or escape to a better tomorrow. Just a grip on reality that grew weaker each day. His eventual fall into madness now seeming inevitable.

Watching Kaligan stride forward with his head held high was almost admirable. However twisted or ill-advised his crusade might have been, at least he stood for something. He lived for a cause greater than himself and strove toward that goal regardless of consequence. Maybe it was a mistake.

Pulled from his melancholic thoughts by the crack of Kaligan’s weapon, Ranna stumbled back into reality. The long snout of the Pirate-Lord's pistol hissed plumes of smoke, pincer rounds erupting from the barrel. In a series of futile skirmishes, reluctant guards had attempted to halt the pirate's advance. Kaligan was more than happy to rebuke their opposition, slaying men by the dozen in a hail of bullets. Those foolish enough to enter his reach experienced his preferred method of execution. He holstered his weapon and charged, using his aggressor's weapons against them, crushing their bodies with his reinforced limbs. The hunters were well acquainted with the sting of Kaligan’s fist and could only pray for the quick demise of the ill equip guards.

A loud cheer echoed through the carved-out expanse. Escapees from the level above paid their respects to their Lord's brutal display. Kaligan bowed in his signature dramatic fashion, fresh blood flowing through the grooves of his body like rivers on a great mountain.

“Your freedom awaits my friends.” He howled to his comrades. His words were met with another great cheer and the jovial firing of weapons into the still-warm corpses of their jailers. Kaligan reached down to one of the slain men, severing a hand from the left arm with only a tight pinch of his thumb and index finger.

“One down.” He said with a smile, dangling the dismembered hand in front of Ranna's face. Soran was drawn to the uniform of the badly disfigured man. Officer. He recognized the rank insignia emblazoned on his torn and bloodied jacket. He had memorized the Naval hierarchy by studying the personnel that roamed the thoroughfares of the Hyacinth, hoping to one day lay eyes on the fabled golden anchor of the Admirals.

Forks of hollowed-out rock extended in every direction and formed a tortuous labyrinth, impossible to navigate. Gruesome remnants of the pirate rebellion grew in frequency the deeper they delved. Mangled bodies lay strewn throughout the facility, some clearly having experienced an excruciating demise. Stray limbs had to be stepped over and narrow streams of blood had formed around the more concentrated areas of violence. The sound of engines roared through the tunnels as the prisoners high-jacked the Naval escape vessels. Many more escapees boarded the rescue ships that had managed to evade the Dios Toro. This was a reunion for many, greeting their liberated brothers with open arms. Decades spent mining away under the vigilant, punishing gaze of the Navy. Knowing with an unwelcome certainty they would die with a pickaxe in their hands. Soran watched conflicted as the hordes of escapees embraced their pirate brethren; welcomed back into a family they had thought forever lost. Whether the actions they had committed were sufficiently heinous to warrant a life sentence, the boy was unaware. Though however evil they might have been, the look in a man's eyes as he tasted freedom was intoxicating to behold.

“At last,” Kaligan said, tearing the hand from another freshly slaughtered officer. He led the hunters through a freshly dug series of tunnels. The air tasted cleaner; a sweet blend of filtered oxygen reserved for the lips of the jailers. The walls morphed from the coarse stone of the outer regions into pristine metal plating, the sandy floors becoming a tiled walkway. Using the appropriated limbs of the slain guards, they proceeded through layer after layer of security precaution, turret guns falling flaccid in their wake. After navigating a precarious series of laser-filled hallways, their infiltration culminated at a transport station. A modern, sleek version of the rope-way they had encountered on Accrakos. The old cart -- that had ferried them to the Accran capital -- was replaced with an expertly crafted drill, suspended vertically over a seemingly bottomless pit. Kaligan threw a severed hand to both Ranna and Tugg.

“Your carriage awaits gentlemen. The paws so graciously donated by our Naval friends will grant you access.” Atop the drill platform stood two sphere-topped pillars, each awaiting the fingerprint confirmation of any personnel ranked officer or above.

“Where exactly are we going?” Ranna asked as if knowing the answer would make a difference. Tugg perked up, equally curious about where the tunneling machine would take them.

“Exactly where you need to go,” Kaligan replied cryptically.

“You'll have five minutes to disable the defense barrier at the base or the boy here will be finding out just how deep this hole really is.” He grabbed Soran, snatching the scruff of his neck and pulling him close. Ranna had to restrain himself. It wanted to lunge forward. It wanted to do to Kaligan what it had done to Volka and Khan. But unarmed and in no situation to argue, he took his place. Tugg hobbled over to the opposite mechanism, locking eyes with his Captain as they placed the severed hands onto their respective scanners.

“Oh and make sure you keep the device active. Remove your ‘keys’ and the platform will return. That would be unfortunate for the boy here.” He held Soran out at arm's length, his feet dangling over the ledge of the pit. Vertigo washed over him as his phobia took control. Ranna gave a reassuring nod to the boy and smiled as the drill platform descended into the black. Soran could do nothing but hope, watching the only people he could trust vanish into whatever awaited at the heart of the Hive.

Tugg's arms shook with violent jolts. Wrapping his leg around the pillar, he used his arm to press the severed hand firmly against the sphere. The drilling platform sank at a rapid pace in a disorienting swell of rising heat. Darkness evaporated into a deep blue glow as the platform passed the first thresh-hold.

“500 meters.” A mechanical voice spouted from each of their control pillars.

From orbit, the Hive appeared to be unending. A geological titan that, despite centuries of mining, still had more than three-quarters of its initial mass.

“1000 meters.”

The tunnel lights turned from blue to yellow. Something else had changed. Something inside them. An intrusive wave of heat coursed through their bodies. The hunters were caressed by an unnerving chill after the initial blast of warmth. That's when their bodies began to shake.

Gently at first, the shuddering progressed into uncontrollable tremors. Ranna's breaths were heavy, lacking in sustenance. Then he felt it, a crackle in his throat. Coughing violently, blood sputtered from his lips, a shower of red coating his hands. Through his haze, he clocked rows of cylindrical emitters blanketing the walls. With terror in his eyes, he realized what had initiated the frightening symptoms. His mortified gaze rested upon his companion. The Accran had blood dripping from his gills and the skin on his exposed chest was peeling. The plea for help drowning in his eyes cut Ranna like a blade. Neither of them could move. Cemented in their positions, they knew the slightest deviation would put Soran in mortal danger. The boy's life would not be the one to end today.

Ranna felt a sharp sting in his hands and watched the blisters bubble on the surface of his skin. Firey lumps bulged from his flesh, reddened and swollen to bursting point. All of his concentration was demanded to keep the hand resting on the sphere. He wouldn't allow his mistakes to claim any more lives.

“2000 meters.”

Despite having no clue to the tunnel's ultimate depth, each milestone awarded a slight reprieve from the prickling char knawing at their bones. Tugg dropped to one knee, a subconscious determination all that kept his hand pressed against the sphere.

“Keep it together!” Ranna shouted.

“We’re almost there.” A burst of vomit escaped his lips as he spoke. Tugg looked back with glazed eyes. Through his impaired vision, he could make out clumps of hair falling from Ranna’s beard, the grueling torrent of radiation pulling the pair deeper into decay.

Watching his friend convulse was far more arduous than dealing with the pain himself. Ranna knew Tugg was far from a saint, but he would spare the wickedest of beings from a fate this cruel; too cruel even for him. After all this time, he found himself able to admit that much.

“3000 meters.”

They passed back into the gentle blue light and a cool breeze washed over their scalded bodies.

“Told you we were almost there.” Ranna pushed the raspy words through the film of dried blood that coated his lips and throat. The platform came to an abrupt stop, locking itself into place. Tugg's body fell to the ground, rolling from the platforms slanted sides and falling limp as it hit the wall. Radioactive mist rose from the deep scars that had burrowed into his flesh. Ranna would be afforded no such luxury. Only able to summon the strength to keep one of his eyes open, he scanned the area whilst attempting to still the shaking of his limbs. A singular pillar, matching the ones on the platform, stood central in the small room. Glistening in the distance was his final chance at redemption yet it remained just out of reach. Unable to stand, he used his trembling fingers to pull his body forward, one inch at a time. With each agonizing strain, the object of his desire grew closer but both his vision and life were being washed away. It took a solid minute to drag his half-dead excuse for a body across the room, a trail of dark brown blood in his wake. He hoisted the severed hand onto the sphere and with one final breath, pushed it into place. The thud of his body hitting the floor coupled with the unlocking and ascent of the platform were the final sounds he heard. Floating free of the pain, his world turning to black.