“Everybody strapped in?”

Captain Hadad glanced back at the passengers filling the now-crowded shuttle, awaiting a response. A scattering of nods and thumbs-ups responded, earning them a curt acknowledgment as he completed the preflight checklist. “Then let’s kick the tires and light the fires. Initiate Main Engine thrust.”

The shuttle vibrated as the engines came online, a mere tremor at first, but as the craft lifted off, the oscillations grew in power, rattling their teeth. Genvass tried stoically ignoring the rattle, but as he gripped the armrests, the white knuckles were a dead giveaway.

“Is our transponder active?” he asked the pilot.

Samara… or more accurately, Erhair Dresh, Doyen-Theurgist 1st Grade and cognate of the Repository… responded immediately. “Transponder is online and transmitting, though I fail to understand why it has not been silenced.” He gave the captain a disapproving look.

Remi just grinned at him. “Even with the transponder offline, the clan leaders can still track us. Between the ground-based radar stations and the satellites in orbit, getting off planet undetected is impossible.”

The cognate stared in confusion. “I fail to see how transmitting a signal that allows our enemies to pinpoint our location aids our efforts.”

The pirate laughed. “We want them to track us. How do you think the Barbary Coast ships avoid getting caught?”

Another puzzled expression. “I have no answer for that query,” the cognate said at last. “Until you suggested this course of action, I assumed some method of stealth would be employed.”

“The only decent stealth tech I’ve ever seen was on Peacemaker,” he retorted. “Trying to hide an old rattletrap like this? Forget it.”

The bewildered look only deepened. “Then what purpose is served by alerting those we seek to hide from to our presence?” the ancient being demanded.

Taneka rolled her eyes. “Stop badgering them,” she told Remi before facing Samara. “What the captain is trying… badly… to say is that smugglers are well aware they’re under surveillance. Instead of trying to avoid the radar, which is basically impossible, they opted for something simpler.” A wry smile graced her features. “They bribed whoever monitors the radar logs to look the other way.”

The cognate stared at her in disbelief, then shook their head and went back to the controls. Genvass wasn’t sure, but it appeared as if they were muttering something under their breath. “That still leaves us with the not-so-simple problem of the ship we’re about to hijack,” he reminded them. “How are you going to pull that off?”

“Samara, with Cherdor Hosk as the designated cognate, will breach the vessel’s airlock and eliminate the ship’s crew,” the cognate informed him. “They have performed this task successfully many times in the past.”

The ambassador blinked at the response. “I’m not sure what we’d do if you weren’t here with us,” he said at last.

There was a pause as something shifted in her expression. “You’d do the same thing, except you’d have more friendly casualties,” Samara said sarcastically, briefly speaking with her own voice before her mannerisms and body language were altered yet again as Erhair Dresh took back the reins.

“I swear, I am never getting used to that,” Genvass told Rúna, buffaloed by Samara’s personality changes.

“She does keep things interesting,” the Valkyrie agreed, before turning her attention to Remi. “What do we know about this ship we’re commandeering?” she asked him.

“She’s named Saracen,” he informed her. “Sleipnir-class freighter, though she’s been heavily modified over the years. “Decent legs and weapons, from what I hear, though I’ve never been aboard her myself.”

“And her crew?” Genvass asked quietly.

Remi’s face took on a neutral expression. “They’re smugglers, and they’re good at it,” he answered. “Not sure what you’re looking for, Ambassador.”

He glanced briefly at the Protean piloting the shuttle. “When Samara boards that ship, will she be taking prisoners?” he pressed him.

The pirate’s eyes narrowed. “It’s unlikely,” he said brusquely.

“And you’re fine with that?” Genvass insisted. “We’re talking about fellow Corsairs, Remi, members of your own clan. You’re okay with Samara waltzing abroad and executing them, one by one?”

“What is it you want me to say?” Hadad snarled, abruptly dropping the mask. “They won’t surrender the ship no matter how nicely we ask, which means we do things the old-fashioned way. I may not like it, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“How do you know unless we try?” the ambassador persisted. “If we speak to them, explain what’s going on and why we need their ship, they might listen. Maybe even offer to help,” he said hopefully. “Isn’t it worth the risk?”

“No, it’s not,” Remi fired back. “You’ll just end up getting more people killed, people like Rúna there,” he nodded, indicating the Valkyrie. “Like you said, these are my people. They won’t give up Saracen without a fight, and if we warn them we’re coming, they’ll either fire up the engines and haul ass, or else they’ll ambush Samara when she steps through the airlock. You want that on your conscience?”

“Of course not,” Genvass stammered, taken aback by the Corsair’s angry rebuttal, but the pirate wasn’t finished with him just yet.

“Tell me, Ambassador, when are you going to realize the galaxy is a godforsaken hellhole, filled with folks who’ll cut your throat as soon as look at you?” he sneered. “I would have thought being a POW would be a big enough wake-up call, but apparently not. Exactly how many more piles of shit will you get shoved into before you fucking comprehend the Perseus Arm is a dangerous place and that sometimes, your hands are gonna get dirty.” The pirate glowered at him in disgust.

“I don’t accept that. I refuse to accept that,” Genvass countered. “Life is what we make of it; no more, and certainly no less. You want to shun the entire universe? Declare it dirty and ugly and beyond redemption? That’s your right.” He leaned in, glaring back at Remi with conviction. “But if I’ve learned anything in these past few years, it’s this: the moment you surrender to despair, that’s when the future is truly lost.” His nostrils flared as he faced off against him. “So you can sit there and sneer all you like at those of us fighting to make something better. I certainly won’t stop you.” A wintry smile appeared on his face, an expression normally alien to him. “But I thought you Corsairs were made of sterner stuff. Since when do you give up just because things suddenly got hard?”

A growl vibrated deep within Remi’s throat as his hand drifted toward his sidearm. “Don’t even think about it,” Rúna warned, gripping the hilt of Blye’s sword. With a snarl, he bounded out of his chair, storming his way past the others before disappearing into the rear compartment.

“I see the good captain is as salty as ever,” Alphad observed from the monitor. “Remind me again why we brought him along?”

“His skills might still prove useful,” Genvass replied, his features flushed from their verbal sparring match. “In the meantime, if you and your companions could find out what you can about Saracen, that would be extremely helpful. Maybe there’s a way to take the ship without loss of life,” he said hopefully.

“I seriously doubt it, but we’ll look into the matter,” the Avatar promised, as Raven and Ess Peon both nodded in agreement. The trio disappeared from the screen, to be replaced by an old-style test pattern sporting a jaunty “We’ll Be Right Back!” message instead.

The ambassador sighed, before glancing over at Taneka. The captain merely shrugged, turning her attention to the control board, although Samara’s cognate had the situation well in hand.

“He’s not wrong, you know,” Rúna said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s an arrogant ass, that goes without saying, but you’d best prepare yourself for the fact that Saracen’s crew won’t give her up without a fight.”

Genvass winced and looked away. “I have to try,” he said plaintively.

“I know,” the Valkyrie smiled.

“... that’s why you’re the Ambassador.”

“... according to our intel, the jamming signal is coming from that structure,” Inaba reported. “If we can knock it out, there’s a good chance we can broadcast our own message across New Terra. Let the people know what the hell is really going on.”

Colonel Holme scanned the metropolis, noting the defensive positions surrounding their target. “They’re dug in and fortified,” he said sourly. “It’s going to be the devil’s own time dislodging them.”

“Yes, Sir,” the captain agreed.

He grunted in reply, still surveying the objective. “Any word on the Clan leaders?”

“No, Sir,” Inaba informed him. “Near as we can tell, they’ve gone to ground. Let’s face it, it’s a big planet. They could be anywhere,” she sighed.

“Perhaps our friends across the way can shed some light on the subject,” Holme suggested.

“Maybe,” the captain allowed, “but there’s only one way we’re shutting down that transmitter, Colonel.” She hefted the Precursor weapon in her hands for emphasis. “I seriously doubt that after our assault there’ll be many survivors left to question.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his words tinged with regret. “Do the best you can.”

“Aye aye, Sir,” Inaba acknowledged, before turning and heading off to prep the assault force.

“... Valérie?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder. “Sir?”

The colonel sighed, his eyes haggard and ancient. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

Inaba grinned back at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.”

A frontal assault against an entrenched enemy position was a scenario no military leader relished. Conventional wisdom stated that a 3-to-1 superiority in personnel was the absolute minimum for any hope of success, assuming all other factors to be equal. Even then, the casualties one could expect were likely to be extreme. But if you were willing to pay the blood price, it could be done. Not easily, and not without a certain amount of coercion to convince your troops to throw themselves at the guns, but it was possible. Or, you could go with Option B: using heavy weapons to obliterate your enemy from a distance.

Captain Valérie Inaba was a big fan of Option B.

She took her time deploying her units where they wouldn’t be immediately spotted by the opposing force, yet still had line-of-sight. It was possible… likely, even… there were Precursor weapons that didn’t require you to see your target, but if they existed, they had yet to be discovered. Until they were, it forced them to do things the old-fashioned way. It wasn’t easy locating suitable positions that checked all the boxes, especially given the time crunch she was operating under, but in the end, she identified several key sites that satisfied her needs. She passed her orders on to her subordinates, waiting until all was in readiness before giving the order to open fire.

They’d first tested the Precursor weapons in the desert, using whatever was at hand for targets. When they’d liberated the POW camp, those same weapons had utterly annihilated the stockade’s Terran-built structures. Only their enemy wasn’t hiding behind sandbags or wooden barricades, they were using the ancient buildings themselves for cover, structures impervious to any tool or weapon designed by man. Lasers, explosives, hypervelocity projectiles, none of them so much as scratched the paint. They still had no idea how they were constructed, what they were constructed with, or how they’d endured a billion years of plate tectonics and weather, not to mention entropy itself, and yet remained as pristine as when they were first assembled. Until she gave the order, Captain Inaba didn’t know if the Precursor weapons in her troops’ hands would have any effect at all.

As it turned out… they did.

Lances of energy brighter than New Terra’s sun streaked across the open space separating them from the enemy, impacting against the mighty crystalline towers. As Valérie stared in wide-eyed fascination, those same impervious walls shattered, exploding in gouts of controlled energy suddenly and violently liberated that defied description. A few scattered shots from the survivors struggled to find their mark, but as her forces unleashed a second salvo, they were quickly silenced. They discharged a third volley before she finally called a cease-fire, watching in awestruck silence along with her fellow Valkyries as one of the towers collapsed in flaming rubble, while secondary explosions detonated almost randomly wherever their weapons had struck.

“... Holy Mother Terra,” she whispered, watching in quiet horror as the city burned.