I struggled against the gag in my mouth, but no matter how hard I bit it, or how much strength I used to push it aside with my tongue, it reverted and blocked my ability to speak or make much noise. It was an effective muffle as well, I briefly wondered how much Captain Omen had to pay for such an annoying item.

Everybody wants to be a little naughty. Why not naughty it to the max with LoveDove Exotic Limited-AI mouth gags. Spice things up, wherever you go. 23,455 morties. 4.8 stars.

Once the BuyMort ad was closed, I did what I could to listen, as whatever they had injected me with faded. It got me good and high for about an hour, which was nice. I had to take some time to adjust to the containment foam, and my inability to move most of my body.

I’m not particularly claustrophobic, but that stuff brought on some panic. I couldn’t even move my toes inside my boots. My limbs, torso, and neck were all immobilized, and no matter how hard I strained against the material, I couldn’t break it from the inside.

Captain Omen had done his homework too. My helmet deployed when summoned, but it did nothing to help my situation. Without verbal commands, I was unable to call for help, or even access my messaging to text Axle. When I tried, I was confronted with a BuyMort premium addon screen that wanted to charge me

I was partially aware for the VTOL ride, but Tollya’s voice in close proximity once we’d landed snapped me back to awareness. Stuck inside a wooden crate, covered in hardened containment foam that felt like steel trapping my limbs, I did my breathing exercises and listened.

With a muted gurgle, I tried to shout for her when she agreed to help Whalehunter with the elevator and station assault. That many starfish troopers gave me hope though, certainly they would be opening my crate soon, and my soldiers could overwhelm Whalehunters.

Then I was being moved on board the elevator, I could tell by the hollow, muted sound quality. Everything echoed off the cavernous metal walls, even though the donut was held partially suspended, to protect it from the earthquakes.

Once we were moving, I heard crates being opened and scowled in confusion. Until Captain Omen opened mine.

His pressure suit had a clear faceplate, so I could easily recognize the man when my crate opened and let the elevator car’s light in. He quickly raised a finger to shush me, before slipping open his faceplate and leaning in close.

The crate was only open partially, and I could see and hear Captain Omen through the wide crack he had made with his small pry bar.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I apologize for your treatment, but I couldn’t risk your affiliate leaking our plans to Dearth. If I remove your gag, will you allow me to explain?”

I narrowed my eyes but nodded.

Captain Omen carefully removed the gag, pressing something on the outside of it to retract the soft, resistant gel. I smacked my mouth and moved my tongue around as I gave some thought to shouting for Tollya.

But the smaller statured man in front of me held up a tiny, shining object and distracted me. It was a razor blade. Double-sided, one of those nice old ones for a stick-handled razor.

“You are to be delivered to Dearth security forces. Once we arrive, your crate and myself will remain, to raise the car one more floor, up to Dearth’s secure platform,” Captain Omen explained. I scowled. “At which point, you will use this,” he said, raising the razor blade again before continuing, “to free yourself.”

I scowled again but nodded. Captain Omen glanced behind my crate, before offering me the razor blade. “Open your mouth,” he said. I did as he asked, and he placed the razor blade gently on top of my tongue.

“When you are ready, swallow that,” he said, before replacing the gag. “I suggest waiting until VIP targets are in the room with us, there’s supposed to be at least one there to verify that I deliver you.”

Captain Omen raised the gag, checking behind my crate again. Then he looked me in the eyes, question obvious.

I nodded and he applied the gag. When its gel expanded in my mouth again, it simply slid over the razor blade. I moved my tongue a little, to see if I could move the blade, and it slid easily against the gel.

Captain Omen began hammering the crate closed again, before calling a member of his team over. Between the two of them, they hauled my crate into the corner of the elevator car.

Tollya’s voice sounded in the elevator car. “What wrong with that one?”

“No good, the interface doesn’t activate,” Captain Omen said immediately. “We purchased them in a hurry and didn’t check them before we left.”

“Eh. Good thing you check now,” Tollya grunted. “If we live, you should give them bad review.” She chuckled to herself, and I heard Thresher laughing behind her.

“Agreed!” the big man said. “Now we just have to live through this.”

“We will,” Captain Omen said, and the laughter ceased.

Within minutes, I felt the temperature drop, and the elevator car clanked to a stop. Gravity felt different. Not gone, just lighter, noticeably less effective at making me feel anchored to the floor. The same gravity I was used to during my church TV appearances.

The way Dearth operated their cargo platforms was efficient, but annoying. The very bottom of their space station, which locked into place with the elevator, was primarily dedicated to a series of loading and unloading platforms that connected to long, extendable docking arms.

As soon as the doors opened, I heard the sounds of weapon fire and the grunt of injured hobbs. My BlueCleave starfish troopers were wearing special pressure suits that re-sealed after being punctured, with a gel-pack container attached to the lower back that could be refilled.

The sounds of battle came to my ears from more directions, as the other cars joined in the fight. Starfish troopers and Whalehunter special forces fought Dearth troopers together, pushing out of the elevator cars and making room to offload their crates. During lulls in the firefight, typically when more Dearth soldiers were being ordered to their deaths, everyone worked to unload all the crates except mine.

A huge blast of escaping air roared through the area, and suddenly all sound stopped, replaced by a rush of freezing cold temperatures. I held the breath I had taken and hoped for the best, but the doors of the elevator car slid shut again and the hiss of air cycling into it was audible.

My body was primarily protected from freezing by the layer of hardened containment foam, but in the few seconds my container was exposed, I developed icicles and frost on my cheeks. My body involuntarily shivered, which was an interesting experience when I was unable to move most of it.

In that moment, with a razor blade ready to slide into my guts, and the near-miss with exposure to open space. Penned in, there wasn’t much I could do, but with BuyMort, I was able to open my pathway to the Teslak affiliate storefront.

Without a coupon, I would not be able to get a free item, but I was flush with morties.

Billions of them.

And I had an idea for an item I was afraid I was about to need.

BuyMort be praised, the affiliate let me into its storefront. My mind cast through the cosmos, and I found myself standing, unfettered in the Teslak storefront. Red light swirled in from the accretion disk out the portals nearby, but I ignored the view this time.

I had come to shop. My body was about to experience a lot of abuse, and I knew exactly which Teslak item I desired to counteract it. It was time to buy a stoneskin patch.

It was right where I expected it to be, in the aisle on the way to the counter. Most portions of the shelves on either side were empty, but I had access to basic starfish suits and all three varieties of Perk Patches. The price tag was a tidy two billion per patch, but I could afford it.

Draining a massive amount of morties from the primary account would at least let my team know I was alive, and I got the distinct feeling that I was going to need a little help to survive what I was about to walk into.

My mental image approached the counter and slapped the perk patch down in front of the projection of Specter. He no longer stammered or stuttered, but still changed between two versions. One pristine and healthy, the other half-dead. I needed the half-dead version.

“Specter, tell me about this perk patch,” I said.

The projection behind the counter smiled and nodded. “Perk Patch is the Teslak Cooperative’s answer the Stat Shot. Each patch is specially formulated to-”

“Stop,” I cut him off. “Tell me about the changes you made to them.”

The projection stared at me for a few seconds before it flickered and changed. Red light lit the background, clearly showing me Specters injuries. “Stoneskin,” he said. “Good choice. This patch will distribute quintillions of crystalline beings into your epidermis, exoskeleton, or any other form of external shell. They will eventually move into your major organ systems as well, but they start off with a rapid colonization of the surface.”

The wounded elf raised a hand, ignoring the droplet of blood that fell from beneath his sleeve. A projection of the crystalline creatures filled the air above his hand, showing the crystal mites scurrying about. Eventually, two of them locked limbs and lowered, pulling into one another and forming a solid protective screen with their bodies.

“Their life-spans are incredibly short, and when they expire, they help form a renewing layer of their own bodies, which will absorb into your own system to enhance its function while simultaneously increasing the physical durability.”

The projection in his hand changed, and an elfin warrior with long blond hair swung a glittering sword at another elf, who stood with hands wide, accepting the incoming blow. The blade shattered against the exposed skin on his shoulder, and the projection faded.

Specter lowered his hand. “I’ve made some changes. The first generation will live considerably longer, which will make the protectory effects more immediate, as they will lay a significantly stronger foundation before they join with it. The instinctual patterns of the creatures have been modified as well, to better adapt to changing needs.”

The Elf paused to cough and spit blood into a napkin before continuing, “They’ll breed much more rapidly when large portions of their populations are killed at once, regenerating coverage. If you’re half-way smart, you’re using this in conjunction with a starfish reactor. That means the reactor will recognize the crystalline mites as part of your body and replace the formations they create in your surface and internal organs. They’ll be stronger when replaced automatically. This upgrade should significantly increase your survivability.”

I smiled from the corner of my mouth and ordered the patch. With a nod at the bleeding projection of Specter, I closed out the storefront and returned to my prison in the weapons crate.

“Soon, now,” said Captain Omen, directly at my side. “Once the door opens, take your freedom when you feel it best.”

I would have nodded if I could. Somewhere out there, a BuyMort pod was speeding my way with an expensive upgrade in its hold for me.

A long moment passed with only the hushed grinding of the elevator car climbing beyond the primary cargo platform.

Then, in a small voice, Captain Omen added, “I would appreciate it, tremendously, if you protected my life during whatever follows next.”

I couldn’t nod or respond in any way, but I smiled faintly in my false prison, and lightly shifted the razor blade at the back of my mouth to ensure it was still there.

An alarm became evident as the elevator car came to a stop again, blaring in the distance, through bulkheads. The doors whooshed open, and the tromp of booted feet was audible.

“Right here,” said Captain Omen. “As we discussed.”

“Take him!” a gruff voice shouted. I heard the sound of a weapon stock strike something, and Captain Omen grunted.

“Pry it open!” the voice said again.

My crate was roughly handled, and the front panel torn free. A snarling orc in a black Dearth pressure suit tossed the crate’s panel aside and glanced behind me. “It’s him. Alive.”

I couldn’t see much, still being wedged in the corner of the elevator car, but that changed when the orc grabbed a hand cart and shoved it underneath my crate. I was wheeled around the corner and set down just outside the entrance of the elevator car.

Once I was settled, the orc turned back and locked down the door. Captain Omen had been the only one of us with clarity of foresight. He set this up as a way in, at a time where we were winning all our battles and most decidedly losing the war. Dearth had welcomed me into their secure facilities with open arms, again.

The area felt almost like an airport’s loading terminal. We were in a room with high ceilings, walls all in glossy Dearth black with silver utility trim. Our area was clearly meant for offloading of sensitive cargo, but it was filled with guards wearing Dearth pressure suits and holding laser rifles. Beyond them was a blast door, standing open to show a sleek-walled hallway beyond it, with portals showing open space and the swell of the planet below.

A new voice sounded that gave me pause. Rova.

“The agreement was dead, human,” she spat, slithering into sight from behind a group of armed Dearth guards. She was wearing another business suit, this one black against her reddish scales. The tip of her tail was up and over her shoulder again, but this time it gleamed in chromed steel. Her arm was also a high-end prosthetic, colored like her scales to match, but strangely smooth compared with her rough-scaled body.

“I apologize, ma’am,” Captain Omen said, bowing his head in contrition. “He proved too difficult to kill for my former affiliate. I lost many of my crew in the attempt, but in the end, containment was all we could achieve.”

“You should consider yourself lucky we do not kill you here and now,” Rova scolded. “Our troops are being wasted just one level down, in order to facilitate this deal. You have failed us too many times, human.”

I shifted the blade in my mouth again, tempted to swallow it already.

Captain Omen stopped me by stepping forward and raising his hand in a supplicative gesture, for the armed guard that followed him. “I think we both understand the value and use of troops, ma’am,” he said. He turned and gestured to me. “This prize is worth the expenditure.”

Rova’s eye’s narrowed and she smiled tightly at him. “Indeed. Kraken will pay for his corpse either way.”

I momentarily remembered the connection and shuddered. Kraken was obscenely wealthy. The number was too high for me to be able to properly name it.

“Your deal is null, human,” Rova spit. “But I appreciate your help anyway.”

Captain Omen said nothing, instead slamming his elbow into the guard behind him and snatched the stunned orc’s rifle, before smashing him into the ground with the buttstock.

I gulped the blade, as hard as I could. The blade got stuck almost immediately, and I forced my tongue back, shredding it as I gulped the blade harder.

“User!” My cartoon starfish appeared. Captain Omen fired three rounds through it, punching holes through the gathered Dearth guards before they could realize and return fire. “Better break something!”

It deployed a tendril that lasered the gel gag in my mouth, melting the substance partially before hauling the whole glob out of my mouth. Then it dove down my throat and removed the blade in a splash of hot blood.

The instant it was out of the way, I deployed my helmet.

My throat had been ripped apart on the metal, and I choked, convulsing and making the damage worse.

My teeth parted in a bloody grin as I used my tearing windpipes to scream “ROVA!”

The Nah’gh woman shuddered but did not retreat.

The guards started returning fire, their laser rifles scorching my crate and hardened containment foam as they sought Captain Omen behind me. The man was using me as cover, and while my tendrils began to erupt from the hardened foam to repair me, I realized I couldn’t blame him.

We were penned in by a cone of fire, most of it concentrated on me. The barrels flashed red as pulses of laser fire pounded against the hardened containment foam, bounced from my gleaming tendrils, and soaked into my anti-magic helmet.

“Fairy fire,” I croaked, outlining all the enemies in front of me in flickering outlines.

The containment foam at my waist cracked, and I blasted my arm free of it, sending a shower of hardened chips through the room. It blasted away the crate at my side and downed three of the Dearth grunts.

“ROVA!” I shouted again, my new vocal chords amplified by my helmet's booming voice ‘spell’ echoing across the room. My prison crumbled, the laser fire and my own fists finally tearing the shards off. I smashed down on the remnants, encasing my legs and stepped down from the crate.

My enhanced body was punctured and perforated by the laser fire, but the suit kept me up. The painkillers, synthetic blood, and pure rage kept me moving in spite of the pain.

Rova finally realized what was happening and fled, slithering silently out the blast doors and around the corner. My fairy fire still tracked her, and the Nah’gh woman quickly fled into a nearby doorway, moving up in the structure again before moving beyond my range.

Captain Omen leaned out from behind what was left of my crate and opened fire, in the distraction I caused. He expertly punched holes in three Dearth grunt’s faceplates before the handful left in the room noticed him.

By the time they tried to turn their guns, I was on them. I slammed into the first and shoved him into the wall hard enough to crush his skull, spine, and sternum all at once. Then I leapt onto the back of a burly orc and drove him into the deck. I stomped on his head without looking and lunged at the final guard. The human’s eyes were shot wide open as I knocked his head clean off his shoulders.

In the silence that followed the storm of destruction, a BuyMort pod slipped in from the hallway, beamed in a small package, whistled its happy tune, and slid silently away.

“Well,” Captain Omen said. “Thank you.”

I turned and glared at him, as sharp horns grew from the liquid metal of my nanite helmet.

“You. Go help our people,” I growled. “I’m gonna go cut the head off this snake.”

He nodded and stepped back to the elevator, opening the door with a command console. I stood in the doorway, gauntlets dripping in gore, and watched the doors slide shut on the man in his pressure suit.

Wasting no time, I grabbed the small box and ripped it open. Another tiny glass case was inside, an orange and yellow strip of cloth on it. With a few quick motions, I tore it out of its container and slapped it onto my chest.

A tickle spread, coursing around my ribs and down my belly. It crawled up my neck and onto my face, slipping in underneath the nanite helmet. I braced myself and gritted my teeth, as the feeling intensified. I burned, all over.

And then it was over. I pocketed the small container and stood, jogging out of the room.