《The 7th Lattice.》 Angela, The Fallen. CHAPTER ONE ANGELA The Fallen There are only six Lattice¡¯s. This is a well-known fact among the islands. But why did the Progenitors gift us with only six? Why not five? Why not Seven? The answer to this question has innumerable answers, the most common among them being that 6 is something of an important number to the Progenitors. 6 Races, 6 true Mist-Eyes, 6 Islands, 6 obelisks. Another point of proof to the theory will require me to dabble in the slightest bit of Lattice Science. Firstly, is the fact that the 6 lattices are easily broken down into three groups of two as follows.
Transmission (1) Transition (2) Translation (3)
Projection (1) Pair Shield Charge
Internal (2) Signal Lift Heat
Secondly, each of the groups can also easily be separated into internal or external. As in whether or not the lattice¡¯s effect is projected outside the lattice, or entirely contained within. This proves at the very least, that the lattice table is filled out, and no more groups exist. While some would see all of this as mere conjecture, I raise you the last sentence on the first obelisk. Carved there by the very progenitors themselves. ¡°The Six shall bring civilization back from the brink, and restore the former glory of True Humanity.¡± This simple sentence is what prompted the first Tinker to construct the first Airship and begin the hunt for the Lattices, and what prompted Augustus Solar to declare the hunt ended after the Paired lattice was found. Because there are only six Lattices. And that is all that there ever will be. -A History of the Six Islands, Fourth Edition. Chapter One: The Lattice. --- Angela woke to the screaming of the mist alarm. The alarm was terrifying, a high-pitched pulsating wail that was designed to instill fear and panic into the minds of the uninitiated. To the sailor, it was not the alarm itself that instilled the fear, but what the alarm meant. Angela pushed aside her rack curtain and swung out of her bunk. The small room was filled with people scrambling to get their mist suits on as quickly as possible. She reached for her own and started pulling it on. A frantic minute passed, her hands doing up the seals and clasps near automatically after years of practice. She turned to her neighbor and started checking on their seals and clasps. She felt someone patting her own. It was reassuring to have someone to check and once it was done, her heart rate eased considerably. They at least had some protection against the mist now. She spent some time strapping her sheathed halfblade to her belt and strode out the door. On the speakers mounted to the overhead in various places, she heard the muffled voice of the ship¡¯s Executive officer. ¡°Major Incursion, Major Incursion in the number five chiller room. The ship is sealed and manned for mist incursion. Time: 1 minute, forty-five seconds.¡± Upon hearing that last part, Angela relaxed. She allowed her breathing to slow as she sheathed her blade that had appeared in her hand at some point. The ship was awake now. Angela could hear the muffled thumps of her officers getting dressed. Annoyingly, she wasn¡¯t the first one out. The Navigator was across the hall, emerging from her own bunkroom. The Navigator nodded, strapping her blade to her belt. ¡°Captain.¡± Angela nodded in kind and they both began walking away from the officer battle bunkrooms. The metal passageways of the ship were small, barely big enough for two people to pass shoulder to shoulder. Various pipes and electrical cables ran through the ceiling and walls. They went up one steep staircase and turned left. To the uninitiated, most ships were an insane warren of passageways and pipes. They often had to get escorted or risked becoming lost in one of the bilges somewhere. By contrast, a sailor could navigate their ship practically blindfolded. After passing through a mist-tight door, they arrived at the passageway to the ships forward Bastion. It was located in the center of the ship, well protected against any stray railgun rounds that made it past the shields. Back in the day, the Bastion had been a place where sailors could relax and take off their breathing protection while traversing the mist. But over time as technology evolved, shipbuilders started designing ships with all compartments sealed against the mist. Now the Bastion was the nerve center of the entire ship where most of the ship''s functions were controlled. Set into the bulkhead at the end of the corridor was a massive metal hatch, easily 3 meters wide. Situated on the bulkhead above the door was a steel placard. The placard contained an image that was scribed into the bare metal by a deft hand. It depicted a grey and blue bird of legend, wings spread, flying up into the sky. Four bright trails of white fire followed after it. Below it was the ship¡¯s name. LTSPhoenix. Under the name, the ship''s motto had been carved with the tip of something very hot, and very sharp. The letters had been rubbed with a type of blue glowstone that made them vibrant against the bare metal of the placard. ¡°Ashes to Embers, Embers to Flame.¡± Angela walked up to the hatch and pressed the intercom button mounted on the bulkhead next to it. ¡°Captain and the Navigator, requesting entry into the Prime Bastion.¡± There was a ratcheting click, and the door started to ponderously swing open. Angela quite liked how thick the door was, one and a half meters thick. She shuffled through the door, bending herself almost in half to fit, and stood up on the other side. The room was relatively small and entirely packed with equipment and people. It was a tiered stadium design, each subsequent tier having consoles that controlled different aspects of the ship''s systems. At the front of a room was a massive VFD panel that displayed various information about the ship. The most important being the damage control board and engine room status. Dominating the center of the vertical panel was the Oculus a giant glass sphere that assisted with navigation and reference in the mist. The lowest tier was the engineering tier, and the officers there controlled the ships steam powered generators, electric systems, trim, list, and the all-important Lift The second tier contained the pilot''s chair, directly in the center. On either side were sensors and weapons consoles. The upper tier contained the Conn, a raised circular section ringed with a railing with the commander''s chair in the back. The chair was positioned to see most of the consoles and the Oculus easily. On the port and starboard of the conn were the Damage control console and the communication console respectively. Behind each Console sat one or several members of her crew. They were the most senior on board, and well-equipped to handle nearly any circumstance the ship could throw at them. She knew them all by name, but in this room, names were secondary. The position of the person sitting in the chair was primary. As Angela walked up the stairs on the starboard side of the room, she nodded to the officers she saw. Most of them were focused on their panels, but a few gave respectful nods. The Navigator walked to the sensor panel and sat down behind the operator. Angela reached the third tier and spotted her Executive officer, Davon. He was a tall man, and incredibly broad. His hands were gigantic. Easily twice the size of hers. His mask hid a short beard and braided hair. He spoke with a thick, gruff voice that occasionally dipped into the growl territory. Angela knew him enough to see the smile in his eyes behind his mask. ¡°Aye Captain, nice of you to join us.¡± He said, touching his brow in the approximation of a salute. ¡°Davon, When I said you could run drills anytime you wanted, I didn¡¯t mean while I was asleep,¡± Angela said gruffly, walking over to his chair and crossing her arms. Davon waved one massive, gloved hand. ¡°Bah, anytime is a good time for drills.¡± Angela smiled under her mask. ¡°Just tell me next time¡± ¡°Aye, captain.¡± Davon stood from the chair and stretched, his head nearly touching the ceiling of the room, despite it being two and a quarter meters tall. Angela walked up to the chair and sat down in it. She glanced over the different panels that showed her the condition of her ship. Angela turned to her XO and saluted. ¡°I relieve you. I have the Conn¡± Davon saluted back, correctly this time, ¡°Aye Captain. I stand relieved. You have the Conn.¡± He turned and walked down the steps. He was heading to the Secondary bastion, where he would take command if the Prime bastion was ever compromised for any reason. ¡°Comms, the captain has the Conn.¡± Angela called over her shoulder. The Communication nodded and grabbed a thick well-worn book from its holder. He opened it to a page and began carefully writing inside. ¡°Carry on,¡± Angela said. The Controllers responded with a chorus of ¡°Carry on aye¡± The room quickly filled with low-level murmurs as the officers under her command resumed talking quietly into their headsets. Angela turned toward the damage control board mounted on the forward bulkhead, directly above the Oculus. The panel displayed a drawn-out representation of her entire ship. Each of the many compartments on the ship was represented here. There were lights at the center of each compartment that indicated its status as well as a pressure gauge beside the light. Most of the lights were green, which meant that nothing was abnormal. One light, located in one of their chiller rooms, was white. It was a sight that sent an involuntary shudder through Angela. Even though it was a drill, the idea of mist getting into her ship was uncomfortable to say the least. ¡°Damage control, report status of the casualty,¡± Angela said, her voice falling into the tenor of command easily. ¡°Aye Ma¡¯m. The Incursion has stopped. The emitters are on service, no signal leakage reported. There were no casualties. There was no damage to equipment. The incursion was from the port radiator hull valve. A repair plan is being conducted¡± Angela nodded, approving. ¡°How long until the compartment is safe?¡± ¡°Approximately 8 minutes.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± Angela said. ¡°Do I have an unlimited bell?¡± She directed this last question to the Pilot, situated directly in front and below her. The pilot himself was seemingly lounging, his hands lazily resting on his controls. ¡°The engine rooms are ready to answer all bells.¡± The Pilot said. Angela considered performing a few rapid maneuver drills but decided against it. They were hunting, if they went to flank, there was a good chance that they would be seen by someone. ¡°Conn, Red contact! Bearing 300 Mark 23, range 52 miles! Designate Romeo Alfa!¡± The Sensor console belted out. Angela turned to the Oculus. In the old days, navigation had been a lot harder. Representing a three-dimensional battlefield on a two-dimensional map was very difficult. The Oculus solved this problem using a glass sphere filled with transparent lights. When a ship was detected, the signal would automatically go to the calculators in the forward part of the bastion. Eron¡¯s machines would do whatever black magic they did, and a light would flicker into existence inside her Oculus. This light showed the approximate position of the contact relative to the Phoenix. It allowed Angela to keep track of all the ships around thePhoenixand their relative positions and bearings with a glance, instead of wasting time trying to decipher maps. The Oculus previously only contained a blue dot at the center that represented thePhoenix. It now showed a faint red cloud at the very edge of the sphere, slightly to the starboard side and up of where thePhoenixwas pointing. Not quite blocking their path, but close. The ship was leaking heat from somewhere. That¡¯s how they had found it so far out. Angela scoffed. The idiots were trying to be stealthy with a leaky ship this deep into the mist. ¡°Sensors, Get the scope on it¡± ¡°Already done cap¡¯n¡± The sensors console said. The man was intensely focused on his screens, and adjusting dials rapidly. ¡°Can they see us?¡± Angela asked, watching the contact closely. The sensor officer shook his head. ¡°Not a chance, Not unless they got a high-powered scope on that bucket and knew exactly where we are¡± He never took his eyes off of his panel. ¡°Pilot, All stop.¡± Angela said. ¡°Secure from the drill. Weapons, Prepare a targeting solution on all targets.¡± ¡°Aye¡± The officers responded. The pilot brought the throttle lever to stop, and the quiet humming of the engines slowly wound down. On the Damage control board, the white light flickered back to green. They couldn¡¯t physically see the other ship from this distance. Not while this deep in the Mist. It was only in the upper layer of the mist that sight became a factor in ship-to-ship engagement. Most civilian ships preferred to stay up there, where they could see a pirate raid coming. But It was cheaper to fly deeper, where the lift lattices didn¡¯t require as much heat. And if the civilian ships couldn¡¯t see the pirates, the pirates usually couldn¡¯t see the civilian ships either. Usually. ThePhoenixwas far from the nearest major shipping lane, so Angela had even odds on this contact being a pirate, cargo ship, or patrol vessel. The seconds passed slowly. As it grew closer, the previously indistinct cloud grew more defined. It was clearly a ship, though it was moving slowly. ¡°Conn, Weapons reports they have a firing solution.¡± Angela turned to the weapon¡¯s console. ¡°Time?¡± She asked. The weapons officer grinned ¡°1 minute, thirty seconds.¡± Angela nodded her head approvingly. Eron¡¯s Machines and her crew¡¯s sheer skill made an impressive combination. ¡°Conn, red contact! Bearing 300 Mark 23, range 45 Kilometers! Designate Romeo Bravo.¡± The new contact was slightly behind and below Romeo Alfa, but moving at the same speed. It was probably the merchant that the leaky warship was trying to protect. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Scope, do we have a designation on Romeo Alfa yet?¡± The sensor officer shook his head. ¡°Not yet Ma¡¯m, it''s still too far.¡± ¡°XO, what do you think?¡± Angela said to the empty air. Out of the speakers mounted to the railing of the ring, the XO''s gruff voice responded. ¡°Looks like a merchant and its escort, though why they would be this far down is a mystery to me¡± Angela nodded. Merchants were built to use their heavy weight to go incredibly quickly, far quicker than any pirate ship could hope to match. For a merchant to be this far down, and moving this slowly, either something was broken, or the merchant was trying to hide illicit activities. Either way, thePhoenixwould respond. The nature of the response would depend on a variety of factors. ¡°XO, how about we see if we can render assistance?¡± Angela could hear the grin. ¡°I think that¡¯s a great idea, Captain.¡± Angela grinned herself and strapped into her chair. She manipulated controls on her chair, and the Oculus rotated around so she could better see the tactical picture. ¡°Pilot, All Ahead one third, come right 5 degrees rudder, steady course 047. Quartermaster, sound general quarters. Navigation, calculate a reciprocal course ending five kilometers behind Romeo Bravo. Weapons, load a firing solution on both targets. Keep it constantly updated as we change position. Damage control, set condition one throughout the ship upon muster confirmation.¡± The ship¡¯s alarm bell began to ring. All over the ship, sailors rushed to their battle stations. Masks, which had just been put away, were taken out and re-donned. After receiving confirmation that all compartments had breathing protection on, the DC officer turned a red dial to the left. Vents all over the ship opened and air rushed into them. Angela¡¯s ears popped as the ship was rapidly depressurized. On the DC board, the air pressure gauges lowered steadily as all the air was pumped out. The ship tilted up and steadily began increasing speed. Their hull was cold and when metal got cold, it got brittle. If they actually got into a fight, they would be at a heavy disadvantage. But if thePhoenixheated up, it would reveal their location. Better to get behind the target first. Slowly, the ballet played out. The two ships ambled along, none the wiser that a predator had begun the hunt. When gages at the DC board reached the lower red markings, the damage control officer turned the red dial back to the right and turned a black dial to the left. Nitrogen rushed into the ship, filling the void that oxygen had filled only moments before. The ship was pressurized above normal atmospheric pressure, and once the dials on the DC board had all reached the upper red marks, the DC officer stopped the flow of nitrogen. As they drew closer, the dots on the Oculus grew to resemble the outline of a ship instead of an indistinct blob. Romeo Alfa was the classic flattened prism warship design. The very top and bottom of it were flat, while the sides slanted to form a sharp point. The front and back also slanted down to form a singular point on the bow. Viewed from above or the side, the ship would resemble a short rectangle that narrowed to long points on either end. Angela could also make out several railgun turrets festooned to its hull on the flat portions of the deck. The ship was leaking heat from various spots. Mostly from the propeller seals. Romeo Bravo was the standard merchant design, teardrop shaped, with massive engine pods on the back that were capable of moving the ship at speeds that thePhoenixprobably couldn¡¯t match. The ships were trying to be stealthy, but they were doing a terrible job at it. They simply weren¡¯t designed to be this deep in the mist. While their hulls were cold, they still radiated a small amount of heat into the mist, undoubtedly created by their engines and other support systems. Mist naturally concentrated near any heat source, and as mist concentrated, it gave off a signal that could be detected by the aptly named Signal Lattice. The greater the temperature, the greater the signal, and the greater the distance at which the ship could be detected. The two ships were essentially trying to sneak through a darkened alleyway, entirely forgetting they were wearing fluorescent vests with blinking neon signs attached. ThePhoenixdidn¡¯t have that problem. Her hull was actively cooled just at mist temperature. While this was exquisitely expensive, it provided the incredible benefit of rendering the Phoenix virtually undetectable to their Signal Lattices. A black wolf in a darkened night, invisible to all but the keenest of senses. And Angela had just found her some rather blind sheep. ¡°Conn, I have a designation on Enemy contacts.¡± The Sensors officer said. Angela nodded appreciatively. ¡°Report¡± ¡°Aye Captain. Romeo Alfa is a modified Eagle class corvette; Modifications include an extra railgun turret and two class Bravo missile pods. The railgun turrets are the standard fifty millimeter, the missiles are class Alpha. Romeo Bravo is a standard Cortez class merchant. No weaponry.¡± The Eagle class was an old, but survivable design. They could be found everywhere, from island police patrols to pirate enclaves. Angela rated its chances against thePhoenixas slightly better than a fly¡¯s chance against a flyswatter. While they were talking, the sensors officer suddenly leaned forward and rapidly began to adjust dials with his hand to the headphones on his ear. After a moment, he cocked his head and leaned back. ¡°Captain- Uh. Conn, Reporting a gain and loss of a contact. Bearing 340 mark 1 range 6 kilometers. I put my scope right on the location, but I was unable to identify what it was. Possible spurious signal.¡± Angela furrowed her brow. This close, the Scope would have been able to see a gnat in flight. It was most likely an anomaly or something that the merchant did to stir up the mist. ¡°Keep an eye on it, Report anything unusual.¡± ¡°Aye Aye.¡± ¡°Weapons, Standby all mounts and tubes. Give me a lock with the spinal on Romeo Alfa.¡± Angela ordered. As the crew began working, the Sensor officer said ¡°Conn, I have a reading on their lift Lattices. Romeo Alfa reads one twenty with 4 Lattices while Romeo Bravo reads one eighty with 6.¡± Angela¡¯s eyebrows rose. With that small a number of Lift Lattices and a reading of that large, both ships were dangerously close to the Shatter point. If they went any deeper there was a good chance that they would have a Surge and break one of the Lattices. And unless they dumped ballast, the ship would go down. It looked like this particular convoy was willing to take the risk of running heavy close to the lower layer in order to hide. ThePhoenixtook up station about 5 kilometers behind Romeo Alfa. They were directly behind it, and neither of the targets still showed any sign that they had detected thePhoenix. ¡°Conn, I have a lock with the spinal. Missiles are loaded.¡± The weapons officer reported. Angela nodded. She turned to her communication officer. ¡°Comms, broadcast the following. Attention Eagle class Corvette and Cortez class merchant, This is the Privateer LTSPhoenix.Identify yourselves and state your flag. We have you locked in. Do not attempt to mauver rapidly or you will be fired upon. End message.¡± Davon chuckled from the Secondary bastion. ¡°A little antagonistic there Captain¡± Angela scoffed. ¡°Well someone woke me up without my coffee today, so I have the right to be a little antagonistic.¡± She thought for a moment and then internally shrugged. ¡°Weapons, charge all railguns. Heat the hull and charge the armor. Raise all shields, set to low ripple. Might as well show we mean business.¡± The weapons officer seemed happy finally getting to do something. ¡°Aye Captain!¡± The shields would take several minutes to come up to full strength, as would the armor. But once they were, thePhoenixwould be very hard to kill. The two ships didn¡¯t change their heading at all, merely kept moving slowly forward. About a minute after their message, the ships replied. The comms officer read out the message, ¡°LMSPhoenix,This is the merchant shipVarinski, and its escorting corvetteArenana.We hail from Centauri, and are heading back after a successful trading mission in Solar. Transmitting transponder code to Centauri Tower now. Please do not shoot.¡± Angela frowned. The nameVarinskistirred something somewhere deep in her mind. But she couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on it. ¡°Davon, doesVarinskiring any bells?¡± She said into her helmet mic. ¡°Aye, it does, but I canna put my finger on what bell exactly. Give me a second.¡± There was a rustling of paper as he started leafing through a book. ¡°Conn, I have confirmation from Centauri, the code checks out.¡± The comms officer said. Angela¡¯s frown deepened. Something about this whole scenario seemed off. The merchant trying to be stealthy, the leaky corvette, the lack of reaction at their proclamation. Something was screaming at her, but for the life of her couldn¡¯t quite figure it out. ¡°Pilot, all stop. Sensors, give me a general sweep of the area, and prepare for an active pulse. Weapons, standby to fire.¡± Both officers nodded. The quiet humming of the engines slowly wound down, and the ship became oddly quiet. The only sound was the clicking of gears from the calculators and the background whirring of fans. Davon exclaimed suddenly. ¡°There it is! It was in the papers from a week ago. The Cortez class cargo ship Varinski failed to show up to port on time. It says here that they¡¯ve been trying to raise them on comms for days now. It''s odd though. The papers donna mention anything about an escort.¡± Angela could almost hear the raised eyebrows. ¡°The owners have put a bounty out on her, but it''s incredibly small. Barely ten thousand drams. Ships easily worth a hundred times that.¡± Angela blanched. ¡°Why would they-¡± The Spurious signal. They didn¡¯t care about thePhoenixbecause- Angela shot upright in her chair, the belts holding her in place. ¡°Sensors! Active pulse! NOW!¡± The sensors officer hit the red button instantly, without hesitating. The Phoenix¡¯s deep horn blasted out a single note at incredible volume. The Oculus went red as the sound wave propagated outward. Angela watched the wave closely, waiting for- ¡°Red Contact! Bearing 090 mark 0 Range 4 kilometers! Designate Romeo Charlie!¡± Angela¡¯s stomach dropped through the floor. Fat merchant, leaky escort, a third ship, hiding in the mist. The perfect trap. ¡°It''s charging railguns and raising shields!¡± ¡°EMERGENCY DROP! All ahead flank! Right Full rudder!¡± Angela roared. ThePhoenixdropped from the sky as the lift officer put his fist on the red button in the middle of his panel. Angela¡¯s stomach went into her throat and her body pressed against the straps holding her down. Somewhere, something clattered as it fell out of a holding rack. The Pilot furiously manipulated his controls, and the ship began to ponderously turn. Romeo Charlie fired its railguns. The three slugs traveled incredibly fast, and were visible on the Oculus as streaks of red arrowing toward their ship, looking to tear out its insides. But the Phoenix had dropped in time. Two of the slugs flew past the ventral deck of her ship with barely three meters of clearance, but the last one glanced off the sloped composite armor there with a shower of molten sparks and the screech of tortured metal. The entire ship shook with the impact, ringing like a giant gong. The slug spun off into the mist, trailing heat. ¡°Impact!¡± Damage control said, clearly relieved. ¡°No hull breaches! All systems remain at full capacity!¡± Nothing was broken, nothing was shattered. Angela allowed herself to breathe. Angela looked at the forward status board. Shields were still coming up, at least another minute until they reached full effectiveness. ¡°Pilot, Nose on Charlie! All up neutral!¡± The pilot hauled on the control stick and the ship began to tilt upwards. ¡°Firing again!¡± This time, the railgun shots were much better aimed. The first round missed only slightly, the second and third rounds both impacted the shields. The rounds broke apart, spreading their deadly energy in a cone of shrapnel that clattered on the hull like so much steel rain. Though weakened, the shields were performing as designed, taking the majority of the kinetic energy out of the slug and breaking it into fragments where it could impact the hull as a weakened cone rather than a single solid projectile. It was very nearly enough. The entire ship shook as the slug penetrated into the inner armor. ¡°Multiple impacts! Hull breach at Frame 110 deck two! Performing damage assessment!¡± ¡°Steam rupture in the Number two engine room!¡± ¡°Two alpha turbine tripped! Lift array two is cross-connected bravo supplying!¡± ¡°Breach is sealed, No mist incursion detected.¡± The reports came in. Angela¡¯s eyes flicked to the DC board. Several of the lights had turned red, and the pressure across the ship was falling. No white lights yet. She eyed her targeting panel. Almost there. ¡°Nose on Romeo Charlie¡± The Pilot reported calmly. ¡°Fire the Spinal¡± Angela said, a note of finality in her voice. The weapons officer twitched his finger, which had been lying on the trigger for their massive meter-bore spinal mount railgun for the entire engagement. The entire ship jolted backward. The sound of a lightning strike heard from a few meters away came from directly below her as the gigantic weapon accelerated a four-ton tungsten slug from a resting state to Mach sixteen in an incredibly short amount of time. A tiny hole in the frontal shields opened and the round shot out, much faster than the enemy slugs. Romeo two was directly facing them now, and warming up its railguns for another volley. The two-meter-long slug blew through the enemy¡¯s shields and impacted the ship directly on the nose. A ship¡¯s armor was designed to take the impact of a railgun round and spread it out, lessening the penetration. The armor of the enemy ship was too cold, and the slug too powerful, for the armor to accomplish this task correctly. Instead, the entire outer hull of the enemy ship reached its brittle fracture point and shattered like so many panes of glass. Thousands of metal shards were ejected out at terrifying velocities. What was left of the ship was hollowed out by the railgun round, still traveling well over ten times the speed of sound. The ship still had oxygen inside it, and the compression wave blew apart compartments and started fires. The twisted wreck fell out of the sky like a stone, barely recognizable as a ship that had once held humans safely in its hull. One of its lift arrays, liberated from the ship from the incredible energies at play, shot up into the mist as it exhausted the remainder of its heat energy. When it reached its apex, the Lift Lattice inside shattered. The entire array exploded with the force of a tremendous bomb, sending fragments clattering against the Phoenix¡¯s hull. The shattered pieces of the array joined what had been a ship falling into the dark. ¡°Shields High Ripple! All mounts, Hold fire!¡± Angela said, scanning the Oculus for the other two ships. The merchant ship was running. All eight of its massive engines were heated up and pushing the ship along slowly. It would take a while for it to get up to speed. The Eagle class had fully turned around now and was bearing down on them at an angle, aiming to gain the high ground. All three of its railgun turrets were aimed and charging. Its shields were fully up, though they were also set to ripple. What was a fly had become the flyswatter. Or at least, that was what they were thinking. Its railguns fired, a measly four-shot volley that streaked across the distance in a second. The rounds impacted the Phoenix¡¯s full power shields and were turned to shrapnel. Angela barely felt the shudder as they impacted the hull. ¡°Impact! No damage!¡± Angela nodded once. The shields would hold now. ¡°Pilot, Full mount firing angle ten starboard. Target is Romeo Alfa. Execute.¡± The pilot pushed the rudder pedals with his feet, and the ship slowly swung to the side. All five of thePhoenix¡¯s250mm railgun turrets were unmasked and ready to fire. ¡°Weapons, All mounts, continuous fire on my mark, target is Romeo Alfa¡± ¡°Aye, captain!¡± The weapons officer said, his hands flying over the controls. Angela felt the ship shudder as another five-round volley impacted. Ten-second reloads. An eternity in combat. ¡°Connn registering impact! No damage!¡± It was Angela¡¯s turn now. ¡°Weapons, All mounts! Commence continuous fire!¡± The Weapons officer spoke into his mic, and thePhoenixbegan to shudder. The lights dimmed as the incredible energy requirement of the railguns began to eat into the ship¡¯s electrical grid. The railguns began firing. One mount after another, letting only a second pass between each successive mount firing. It wasn¡¯t the most accurate of fire patterns, but it was not designed to be accurate. It was designed to put as much metal downrange as quickly as possible in order to disorientate and distract the enemy. The Eagle¡¯s shields were taking the brunt of the impacts, leaving the shrapnel of the shells to impact the armor and leave gouges and small craters. The shields would take a while to fail under such a barrage. Angela decided to end the fight quickly, just in case there were any more hidden ships around. ¡°Sensors, do you have their Lift Lattices?¡± Angela asked, curling her hands around the arms of her chair. ¡°Aye Captain, Two Two Seven Five fand holding steady.¡± ¡°Weapons, Lock on and fire two missiles.¡± ¡°Aye! Ready on your mark captain!¡± Angela¡¯s eyebrows raised a hair, the crew had already anticipated her next order before it had even come out of her mouth. Having a competent and motivated crew was well worth the cost of their incredible pay. ¡°Execute!¡± The ship shuddered as the two missiles shot out of the forward missile tubes with a blast of compressed air. These weapons were designed to use an enemy¡¯s lift signature to track toward a target, and destroy it. The Phoenix¡¯s forward shields flickered slightly and the missiles passed through only slightly slowed down. Once through the shields, the missile¡¯s hydrazine engines kicked on, propelling the weapons forward at a breakneck pace. Because the missile was much slower than a railgun shell, it would actually pass through the shields while they were set to Ripple. If the enemy wanted to, they could set their shields to Full. This would block the passage of the missile, but leave them vulnerable to railguns impacting the shield with full force. Instead of letting the slug through and reducing its speed and breaking it apart, the railgun round would be stopped entirely by the shield. This would quickly overwhelm the hydraulic shock absorbers of the enemy ship. It might even break the enemy¡¯s Shield Lattice permanently. Of course, they could try to maneuver around the missiles, but they had acquired their lift signal, and were both homing in on their ship with unerring accuracy. Angela had effectively given the ship only a few terrible options. They chose poorly. ¡°Romeo Alfa¡¯s Lift signal is at zero!¡± the Sensor¡¯s officer called out. The pair of missiles swapped to heat tracking, but they weren¡¯t able to reacquire the signal. Both weapons spiraled off into the mist. ¡°Cease fire! Pilot, Follow them down, All up one quarter.¡± ThePhoenixfell slower than the pirate. They had turned back on their Lift Lattices, but they were so heavy, and the Lattices were already at their capacity. Angela calmly watched their fall rate slow, waiting for the inevitable. There. Angela saw it in the Oculus. A great tendril of compressed mist spiked from the Dark, hitting the forward port corner of the enemy ship. Instantly, it began to tilt to one side as the Lift Lattice there was shattered. Angela saw a massive heat bloom come out the bottom of the pirate ship. ¡°Captain, they are dropping their ballast. Their shields are down.¡± The sensors officer said quietly. Watching a ship spiral after a Surge was something that inspired empathy in most sailors, even if that ship was an enemy. Surprisingly, the pirate ship recovered. It leveled out about 4 kilometers above the dark. Its propellers were still spinning, but very slowly now. Now that the ship had no ballast, it moved much slower, and couldn¡¯t support its shield''s electrical power requirement anymore. The ship slowly drifted up, tilting forward and to the port side heavily. Angela nodded. The ship¡¯s crew had done well in the recovery. Not everyone could recover from a spiral like that. Her thoughts then turned to the merchant. With its escort out of the scenario, it would be easy prey, all she had to do was- ¡°Enemy lift signal is at zero!¡± The Eagle class ship fell. Angela watched, open-mouthed, as it hit the surface of the dark. It impacted the liquid, the several hundred-ton ship not even causing a splash. The ship was quickly devoured, the hungry liquid creeping over the surface of the ship with a supernatural speed. Soon, nothing remained of the ship. The only signs that it had even existed at all were memories and paper logs. None of which would tell the story of this ship, none of which would tell the stories of the people who had lived onboard. Angela cleared her throat. In the dead silence of the bastion, the noise sounded like a gunshot. ¡°Pilot, make for the merchant, all ahead full. Quartermaster, set condition two throughout the ship, and secure the ship from general quarters. Comms, make a note in the ship¡¯s log and forward it to Landing and the Company. Sighted two pirate vessels, sunk same. In pursuit of a third.¡± The officers murmured their acceptance. The bastion remained quiet. Angela sat back down in her chair. The Eagle could have survived, should have survived. She had no idea why the crew would work so hard at recovering the ship only to leave it for the Dark. It made no sense. She shook her head. That was a problem for later. For now, she had a ship to catch. Finric, The Det. The Debtor Rehabilitation System is the backbone of the Solar economy. Much of the labor in the light industry and service sectors come from the so called ¡®Dets¡¯. A person can become a Det in several ways, through sentencing, failure to serve, or medical expenses. Most people become dets through normal human vises, such as gambling, alcoholism, or bankruptcy. The system allows those less fortunate to get back on their feet while being provided with a guaranteed job and housing. Overall, it is a very good system and has many success stories year after year. Unfortunately, most of the other islands don¡¯t follow this practice. Instead, these other islands try to ¡®fix¡¯ their less fortunate by overfunding social systems that inevitably bloat and fail. -A History of the Great Islands, Fourth Edition. Chapter 6, The Solar Empire Finric awoke to the sound of coughing. He felt a familiar arm around his chest, holding him down. Sanson was curled up next to him under their blanket. He really didn¡¯t want to wake her, so he just laid where he was, ignoring his need to stretch. Eventually, he would have to get up. His status as the barrack¡¯s resident doctor demanded it. Sanson woke up soon afterwards however. He sighed, and began running his fingers across the scales on her head. Sleepily, she smiled and whispered ¡°How long have you been up?¡± Finric shrugged. ¡°Long enough to really need to go to the bathroom¡± He signed. She giggled and clutched him closer. ¡°Do you have work today?¡± Finric asked her, his fingers began scratching at the base of her neck. She was ticklish there, and she giggled again and swatted his hand away. ¡°No, just a training match with Dolgra.¡± ¡°Go easy on her. I''m growing tired of patching her bruises.¡± She smiled into his neck. ¡°I will.¡± Sanson was his best friend in the entire world, and more than that, she was someone Finric could trust implicitly. He reminded himself of that. She trusted him. She would understand. He figured now was as good a time as any to tell her. Just as he gathered his courage, he heard Sanson sigh. ¡°I have something to tell you.¡± She said, still buried in his neck. The tiny scales pressed against his face were smooth and cool. He made a questioning grunt, and she shook her head. ¡°Not right now. It''s too perfect.¡± He pushed on her slightly, and she drew her head back, enough to read his hand. ¡°How important is it?¡± She thought about it for a moment. ¡°Important enough¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to¡± ¡°No, you deserve to know.¡± She said, burying herself in his neck again. Finric waited for her to gather her thoughts. She tensed, and Finric felt the sharp points of her claws dig into his back. He tried not to react. Whenever she was running high on some sort of emotion, her claws tended to come out. He wasn¡¯t really supposed to talk about it. She got incredibly uncomfortable whenever someone commented on one of her more exotic features. ¡°I''m sorry¡± She whispered. Removing her hands from his back and moving away from him. She sat up on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms and hunching over slightly. He reached out, but felt her cringe back. He sighed. Moving over next to her, he brought his hand up to her chin, and lifted it until her white eyes were staring into his green one. ¡°It''s alright. Don¡¯t tell me today, it''s obviously not something you want to talk about.¡± He signed deliberately, making sure she could see it. He could practically see her light up. ¡°Okay¡± She said, voice still small, but more happy than before. She hugged him quickly, and he had to force himself not to jump. She didn¡¯t notice, and they collapsed backwards onto the bed. He ended up on his side, her massive arms hugging him close like a damn teddybear. He sighed, and went back to scratching the scales on her back. Luckily, they had their own room. She could afford to be affectionate. Sanson had earned it about a year ago after winning the First spot. They had grown used to the privacy and security it offered. Their room was tiny, barely big enough for a bed and a small wardrobe. It was lit with a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a thin wire. The metal walls were decorated with intricate carvings, courtesy of Sanson¡¯s claws. The carvings were often random shapes or patterns, but sometimes wove themselves into an image. His favorite carving depicted a ship emerging from the swirling mists. He caught himself sometimes staring at the bold lines of the magnificent craft. His eyes drifted down below to the ship to the oldest carving in the room. It depicted a house on a hill somewhere, surrounded by trees. The hill itself was just the barest hint of an outline, with what might have been a tree arching protectively over the house. In contrast, the house itself had been done in breathtaking detail, swooping arches and open windows. The barest hint of color had been rubbed into the metal, shallow greens and blues. Sanson¡¯s name had been carved above the house, and Firnic had put his name next to hers in shaky handwriting. A promise made, a shared dream to be together, regardless of what may happen. Because as long as they had eachother, nothing could truly hurt. Finric extracted himself from Sanson¡¯s arms. She rolled over and mumbled something. Finric pressed his lips to her muscled arm momentarily, and then got out of the small bed. She was adorable, all snuggled up in the covers. Most people would not call the 2 meter tall demigen with titanium claws and a deadlift of nine hundred kilograms adorable. But then again, Finric was not most people. Sanson was a Hybrid, specifically of the draconic variety. Very little of the hybrid race still lived, many had been lost after the fall of Cassiopea, their old home island. Hybrids, while sharing many characterizes of the animal that their sub-species was named after, resembled more human than animal. As such, Sanson¡¯s tilted eyes, black scales, and tiny horns were her most distinguishing features that set her apart from most humans. Sanson was unique, even among hybrids, as she was a Demigen, which in of itself, was even rarer than even a hybrid. Finric stood up. Sanson was snoring happily again, and would probably not notice if he went to the bathroom for a moment. Finric grabbed the walking stick from where it was set along the wall. Groaning, he used it to lever himself up. As usual, his right leg refused to cooperate. Rubbing sleep from his eye, he shuffled off to the bathroom. While inside, he scratched under the metal band that went around his left ankle. Marked on it was stylized image of a rose, curled around a gallon coin, thorns dripping with blood. After relieving himself, he made his way back into the bedroom. Sanson sat up as he entered. Her scaled head almost touched the damn ceiling. ¡°Thought you had left¡± She said ¡°And leave you in bed? Never.¡± Finric got into the bed, sitting down next to her. ¡°I have to get to work now.¡± She frowned. Finric felt the bed lurch as she got out. ¡°Me too. I''ll guide you?¡± ¡°If you want to¡± They spent a few minutes getting ready. Finric put on his steel toed boots and grabbed his bag. He made sure his pendant was still around his neck and leaned on his walking stick. Sanson was taking him, but he liked to take walks occasionally through the hallways. He would need the stick to go anywhere without her. Once Sanson was ready she started helping him walk down the hallway. He could make the way on his own, and he would have preferred to. He reminded himself that she liked to do it, and he liked it when she was happy. They passed through the barracks. The walls were all metal. Splotches of rust grew in the corners and in spots on the wall where the wire brushes couldn¡¯t get to. The bare hallways were lit with electric lights strung along the ceiling as if in afterthought. Sanson waved greetings to the people they encountered, and some responded. Their house held around 50 people. Most were cluttered inside the barracks, but a few lucky ones, like Sanson, got their own rooms. The barracks were almost empty. Everyone was out working on getting the arena prepared. They reached an intersection of the drab metal corridors. Finric stopped walking when he saw an older man scrubbing the floor with a wire brush. Sanson pulled at his arm, but as soon as she saw what he was doing, she stopped with a small sigh. Finric knelt down and tapped Krist on the shoulder. His long white hair was stringy and falling out in several places. Stained pink bandages decorated his bare arms and legs. Krist looked up and swiveled his head around, it was a reflex. The man¡¯s eyes were gone, Finric had taken them out himself along with a large portion of the man¡¯s face and throat after the MetalPlauge had gotten its vile hooks in. Finric¡¯s fingers danced along the man¡¯s shoulder in a sequence of long and short taps. ¡°Any new growths?¡± What was left of the man¡¯s mouth curled up into a pained smile. He shook his head and blindly reached out his hand to Finric, who guided it to land on his own shoulder. The old sailor tapped his fingers in sequence on Finric¡¯s shoulder. Though his hands were slow, the message still came across. ¡°Nothing, today, Thank, friend.¡± Finric nodded, though he blushed afterwards. It wasn¡¯t as if the man could see it. ¡°Let me know if any show up¡± Krist nodded his own head and bent back down to the floor. He continued running his fingers along it, feeling out for rusted spots. Finric remained kneeling for a moment. Just a few short months ago, the man had been the picture of health. Unfortunately, the metalplauge did not discriminate based on immune system status. After he had taken the Krist¡¯s sight and voice, Finric had been at a loss as how to communicate with the man. Luckily, Krist had been a sailor in a past life, and the old blind suit codes provided a solution. Sanson coughed slightly, and Finric started to stand, using his cane to lever himself up. Sanson quickly grabbed his arm and helped him up. She started leading him away from the man on the floor. She didn¡¯t say anything, though he could tell she was annoyed. Finric tapped her on the shoulder and signed question. She blew a breath out of her nostrils. ¡°I just don¡¯t know why you spend time on him. He¡¯s used up much of your bandages and painkillers. Those all could have gone to people that are expected to survive the year.¡± Finric frowned. ¡°There will always be more bandages and painkillers.¡± Sanson snorted. ¡°yeah, but the more will be coming out of your pay which you could be using to pay off your Debt.¡± Finric let the conversation drop. He didn¡¯t want to argue with her this early in the morning. He didn¡¯t want to argue with her at all. Eventually they were through the barracks and into the working areas of the complex. He could perceive sounds and smells that mixed to an almost overwhelming degree. Sanson directed him to the cafeteria, saying to him quietly. ¡°Common we need to eat something.¡± Finric normally ate in the quiet of his office, but he learned long ago that when Sanson got her mind set on something, she wouldn¡¯t let it go easily. The cafeteria had provably looked decent when it had been constructed, well over forty years ago, but now it was a horrid mess of rusty metal and squeaky tables. The floor was greasy, and stained in several places by unidentifiable liquids. Each table was different, and most looked like they had been taken from a scrapyard after being thrown away for being too dangerous to be around normal people. They sat down at one of the metal tables. It was eggs, porridge and some unidentifiable meat today. He had taken only a bowl, while Sanson had filled her tray with enough for a small family. It cost her a decent chunk of money to eat like she did, but she could definitely afford it. Halfway through their breakfast, Victor and Cameron sat at the table across from them. Victor was also Demigen, but he was less muscular than Sanson. More wiry and quick than strong and overpowering. His Home Island was Altiar, how he had ended up all the way in Solar, Finric had no idea. His uncommon heritage made his skin extremely dark, and his eyes light colored, with barely a hint of a pupil. He had a trimmed full beard with slicked back hair and a suit that made him look like he was dining in a fancy banquet hall, not a Detter cafeteria. The boy was a sharp contrast to the man beside him, much shorter, he had shaggy blonde hair that went down to his shoulders. His pale face was youthful, but his eyes were always searching. Victor was a relatively new arrival. He had been brought to the House about three years ago, and in that time had built up a substantial reputation as a fighter who rarely lost. ¡°How did you sleep Finric?¡± Victor was looking at him over the rim of his cup, probably noticing his red rimmed eyes and crow¡¯s feet. ¡°I got woken up to treat Violet. A client of hers got rough and she needed stitches.¡± He signed. Victor¡¯s normally pleasant face turned to a scowl faster than an ice cube melting in Highscar. ¡°Violet got Hurt?¡± He said, setting his cup to the table and doing up his coat, as if he was planning to get up and leave. Finric raised a placating hand. ¡°She is going to be fine, the cut was on her arm, not her face thank the progin. She can still work as soon as it heals.¡± Victor still looked angry, but he sat down and started angrily shoveling down eggs. ¡°Shes still goanna get a week deeper into the hole. Who¡¯s the fucker that did it?¡± He asked Finric grimaced. ¡°Some blooded of house Jupiter, a cousin, I think. He has had problems in the past. Luckily Summers was there to pull him off of her before he could do anything really nasty¡± His eyes widened. ¡°Summers acted against a nephew of house Jupiter?¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Finric nodded. Victor blew out his cheeks and sat back in his chair. Sanson was staring into her oatmeal with a look of disgust on her face, but if it was for his story of the food he could not tell. ¡°Bet the master wasn¡¯t happy. One of his own guards actin against a house blood, he musta gotten punished or somthin.¡± ¡°The blooded was heavily drunk, and probably didn¡¯t notice. In any case, Summers brought her directly to me and hightailed it out of there.¡± Victor laughed. ¡°How much do you think he likes her?¡± Finric shook his head and shrugged. ¡°No idea, but him helping her out of a bad situation for any reason is a good in my book.¡± Not much else was said over the course of the breakfast. They each had fights to prepare for, and Finric had their injuries to ready his clinic for. Sanson and Finric finished first, and they got up to leave. Victor gave them a parting wave and said with a grin. ¡°Im sure ill see you at some point today Doc.¡± Finric waved back and responded, ¡°If its anything like that fight with the Ravager, im afraid ill have to charge you double.¡± Victor waved his hand, unconcerned. ¡°Nothing like that, just a barred fight with a uppity kid from down south. Ill make sure not to break my sword in the first five minutes this time.¡± Finric laughed, and let Sanson drag him off. Twenty minutes later and they reached his office. With hands that were only slightly shaking, Finric unlocked the door with a key he drew from his pocket. They went inside. The office was located right next to the entrance to the Cage. Finric could smell the acidic cleaning solution they used on the floor. It always made his stomach turn, and his head fill with thoughts of blood and violence. As the smell filled his nostrils, a memory flashed through his head. ¡°I lunge forward, the hammer held softly in my hand, the crowd roaring. The man in front of me is scared, and that makes him weak. He tries to block, but turns his body the wrong way. instead of his arm, the point slides right into his-¡° ¡°Finric?¡± Sanson was asking him something. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the memory. It took a moment to get his hands to stop shaking, and when they finally did, he signed ¡°Im sorry, I didn¡¯t hear you.¡± ¡°I was just asking if you needed anything before I left?¡± Finric shook his head. As she was leaving, her hand brushed across his shoulder affectionately. He jolted, but she was already outside the door. He waited until she was down the hallway before he shut it. His medical textbooks called it shell shock. Finric had never been in a war, but he imagined some of the same symptoms applies. Either way, it was not something he could afford right now. Work took precedence. It wasn¡¯t like he could talk about it to Sanson. He would hate to burden her with more than she already had. He thoroughly cleaned his hands, and started his inventory process. In order for him to work properly, everything had to be exactly where it should be. Sometimes people broke in here, looking for narcotics and the like. Finric couldn¡¯t afford anything like that. They still tried anyway. The room was relatively large. Enough room for a decently sized counter that ran along the outside of the room with an operating table in the center. The metal that made up the room was meticulously cleaned. Finric spent a large majority of his time ensuring that. Everything seemed to be in order. Finric nodded, and went to the door. He turned a dial on the inside all the way to the right, and felt a click. He knew, in the hallway outside, a green light had just flickered to life. Finric sat down, and pulled out one of his newer medical textbooks. They were of high quality, and that usually cost a lot of money, much more than a Det could normally afford, but he had a deal with a bookseller in the market. Her kid was sick with a very benign form of the metalplague. Finric cut pieces out of the kid once a month and in exchange the bookseller got him some textbooks on the cheap. After opening it to the correct page, he sat down and started reading. He dreaded when his door would open next. He passed the time reading his books, and cleaning everywhere he could reach. He paid special attention to his operating table and the equipment there. His process was efficient and practiced. After an hour or so he heard the muffled talking of the crowd overhead. He sighed, and started getting ready. The crowd began shouting. The master wouldn¡¯t open the night with an extremely bloody match, but it didn¡¯t hurt to be prepared. The announcer called the start of the match, and the crowd screamed its delight. Each match could last anywhere from a minute to hours. Every time a match ended, Finric waited for the inevitable knocking. The fourth match opened normally enough. It was Victor against someone from another city. Finric heard the crowd scream and clap. The newcomer seemed sure of himself. The announcer introduced him as ¡®undefeated¡¯. The match began. The crowd was quiet. He could vaguely hear the taunts coming from the new fighter. As always, Victor was silent. The crowd didn¡¯t watch him for his silence however, they watched him for the blood he left along the ground. Finric heard the ring of swords. Once, Twice, and then a third time. The newcomer had stopped talking. There was a sharp ring, and the sound of a sword clattering against the metal floor. Finric immediately grabbed his suture kit. The crowd was silent for a moment, as if in disbelief, but then they went ballistic. They liked the fight. Victor was good at giving them what they wanted. A few moments later, the door slammed open and the newcomer was ushered into Finric¡¯s office. He was incredibly tall and lanky. A Centauri then. His reach would normally serve him well in a fight, but Victor had some of his own advantages. The man was groaning in pain as his companion carried him to the operating table. He had a shorter build, with long red hair that cascaded down his back. He set the injured Centauri on the table and turned to Finric. ¡°Please save him. I don¡¯t have any money but-¡° He cut off as Finric pointed at the back left corner of the room. The man looked at the foot shaped outlines that were painted on the floor. ¡°But I want to-¡° Finric moved his hand up, and pointed to the sign on the wall. It read in big bold letters , ONLY ONE VISITOR ALLOWED AT A TIME. THE VISITOR MUST STAND IN THE DESIGNATED SPOT AND NOT DISTURB THE SURGEON. DISTURBING THE SURGEON WILL RESULT IN REMOVAL FROM THE OFFICE. The redhead sighed, and moved to the corner. Finric got to work. The Centauri wasn¡¯t in his house, but he would do his best to save him. His leg pained him, so he used his cane to get to the table. First, he placed a biteguard into the man¡¯s mouth. Then he began to run his hands over the man¡¯s injuries. He noted the placement of the wound, and its depth. A picture started to form in his mind¡¯s eye. He could see the path the sword took when it entered the man¡¯s abdomen. See what it cut along the way. Feeling around the man¡¯s back, the picture was completed with the exit wound. Both sides were still dribbling out blood, but its flow had slowed. Nodding, he began to disinfect and clean the wound on the man¡¯s chest. He used pure alcohol, and when he placed it against the wound, the Centauri spasmed and cried out in pain. The person in the corner of the room started to move, and Finric pointed at the sign again viciously. The redhead moved back to the painted foot shaped outlines. Grimly, Finric got the suture kit out and started sewing the wound shut. In his mind he could see the placement of the stitches, and the correct location where he should place the needle. The decade of practice he had at this helped guide his hand. His hands never shook when he was saving someone¡¯s life. After about ten minutes, he was finished. The man in the corner was silent for the entire process, only moving jerkily when the injured one made a particularly violent sound of pain. Finric stepped back and dropped his needle in a vat of cleaning solution. After that, he reached into a cabinet and pulled out a sign. He placed it on the table. Is the patient Demigen? The sign read. The man in the corner read it and shook his head.. ¡°No, he¡¯s Human.¡± Finric nodded, and put the sign back. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to thank you¡± He said, rushing to the Centauri on the table. Finric remained silent as he inspected the stitches. ¡°This is excellent work. Where did you learn to do this?¡± Finric shrugged, and opened a cabinet, pulling out yet another sign. He placed it on the table, and the man laughed. This one read, COURTESY OF HOUSE VENUS, OUTSIDER FIGHTER HEALING IS FREE. THE ONLY ADDITIONAL PRICE THE SURGON DEMANDS IS TO CLEAN THE FLOOR. ¡°If that is the price, then very well.¡± The man began cleaning the floor with the provided mop, and Finric went to his friend who was sitting up on the table. The tall man was shaking his head, obviously still in pain. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d lose a fight that badly¡± The man with the mop grunted. ¡°That was their champion, you''re lucky you have all your appendages still attached.¡± Finric grunted in laughter. Both men looked at him, confused. Quickly Finric grabbed a wax pen from his shirt pocket and wrote onto the counter in his scratchy handwriting. ¡®Not the Champion¡¯ Both men read the message and then exchanged looks of amazement. ¡°If that wasn¡¯t the champion¡± One of them said quietly. ¡°Who is?¡± A deep laugh sounded behind them, and both men turned suddenly to see Sanson standing in the hallway, bending down slightly to allow her ridiculous frame through the door. ¡°That would be me,¡± She said, grinning wildly. Her sharpened fangs gleamed in the light of the solitary bulb. The blood drained from both of their faces as they both looked the draconic woman up and down. They exchanged looks with each other, and then looked away quickly. The redheaded one picked up his pace in cleaning the floor, while the Centauri suddenly grew very interested in his sutures. Sanson walked over to Finric. He smiled up at her and began to put his things away. ¡°How is it going in here?¡± She asked, leaning up against the counter. Something was wrong. He could tell it in the way her voice sounded and the way her claws gleamed in the light. He shrugged. ¡°Only one so far, Victor went easy on the man. It should heal up within a week.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good. Uh. Did you do anything fun besides work?¡± She was fidgeting with something. Probably one of his tools. He turned around. The two outsiders were still in his office, though the short one was still cleaning. They were not so obviously listening. ¡°What do you need?¡± She looked down at her knees, embarrassed. ¡°I ran out of pills again.¡± He sighed. This wasn¡¯t what she was nervous about, but distracting herself helped sometimes. Finric went to a cabinet and started rummaging around. ¡°I swear I run through those so fast.¡± She muttered. Finric grabbed a large case out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. He opened it up, and grabbed the diamond tipped needle from its pouch. ¡°Might as well test your levels¡± He signed. She nodded, and meekly held out a arm for him. It was quite a picture. The extremely tall, inanely muscular dragonkin woman holding her hand out with a pose of someone who was in the principal¡¯s office about to be yelled at. He pushed the needle to a vein, and drew a small amount of blood from her arm. The dark red liquid came out reluctantly, as if it was offended at being required to leave the body. He got enough, and took the needle out. The wound closed up almost instantly. He turned around and moved back to the pouch. From it, he drew a roll of testing strips. Each one was about 2 inches long, and had ten symbols printed along its length. He tore off a strip, and put the needle to the paper. The blood inside it was already turning black. Slowly, he placed a drop of blood on each symbol. After letting the strip set for a moment, he examined it. ¡°Low on Titanium, Gold, Silicon, and Tungsten.¡± He looked up at her. ¡°As usual¡± She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Not my fault your pills are shitty knock offs¡± She said, grinning. He smiled and placed the strip and needle on the counter. A raised middle finger was his only reply. Finric reached into the case and pulled out several bottles. Each one contained a differently sized pill. He counted out two of each and handed them over to Sanson. Grimacing, she went over to the sink, and started to take them. Each of the pills were filled with a different type of metal coated in carbon dust. The metal was to replenish her levels, but the carbon dust was always required. Sanson was a Demigen. She was stronger, faster, and better than normal humans in almost every single way. The only downside was the enormous amount of metal that they required to function on a regular basis. Finric was glad that she wasn¡¯t still growing. If she was, she would easily require ten times the amount of metal she had just consumed daily. The two others finally left, and Finric put the mop back in its spot. When he turned, she was leaning against the counter again, nervously twisting her shirt between her hands. He walked up to her and reached out with both arms. Eagerly she released her shirt and drew him into a tight hug. ¡°I''ll be going up next.¡± She said tensely. This must be an important fight then. She sometimes got nervous before a fight where there were real stakes involved. Why the gigantic Demigen of all people would be nervous about anything, Finric had no idea. ¡°The master said that he wants you in the box during the match.¡± Finric froze in her arms. And there was the real reason. If Sanson got nervous before a fight, it was nothing compared to when Finric was with the master. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she let him go. Wordlessly, she watched him as he limped his way over to the single chair in the room. With a huff, he sat down. ¡°When is it?¡± She signed. ¡°After Victor¡¯s next fight.¡± ¡°Do you know why?¡± She shook her head. Finric let himself slump into the chair. He found himself staring at his hands. The scars covering them blurred as tears filled his eyes. He hated the cage. He hated the box even more. Being in there meant that he was forced to watch as one of his friends was mutilated. Not to mention that while in the box, he would be under the constant scrutiny of the master. He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. Finric was okay with touch generally. He just preferred to have warning beforehand. He looked up. Sanson¡¯s eyes were filled with concern. Her hand squeezed his shoulder. Finric breathed in deeply, and placed his hand over hers. They stayed like that for a moment. Finric could tell the half bent over position was playing hell on her back, so he soon got up. He nodded to her and signed ¡°Good luck. Don¡¯t go soft on my account¡± She grinned, a touch viciously. ¡°You know I never go soft on an opponent.¡± Finric nodded. And she withdrew from the room. Finric went over to the abandoned pill container on the counter. He shook out a pill from all ten bottles and started taking them mechanically. Even though Finric wasn¡¯t Demigen, the master made him take the pills regardless. He would ask, and Finric learned from personal experience to never lie to the Master. An indeterminate amount of time later, the two outsiders left the room. The floor was not entirely clean, and Finric set himself onto cleaning the few spots left. After the fifth match, Finric¡¯s door slammed open again. This time, it was Victor himself that had been injured. He limped along, being helped into the room by a Cameron. Victor was in the middle of telling Cam a story about one of his past matches. ¡°I don¡¯t know what he meant by that, but he sure didn¡¯t like it when I stabbed him!¡± Finric shook his head. Cameron laughed, but Finric could tell the boy didn¡¯t really get the joke. It wasn¡¯t very funny anyway. Victor often told the story when he was in a lot of pain and trying to sound tough. After helping Victor to the table, Cameron went to stand in the corner automatically. Finric grinned. The boy had been here enough times to know that standing anywhere else in the room would just make Finric mess up. Finric turned to victor. ¡°In the leg again Victor?¡± The man grinned slightly. ¡°I can''t help it! They really like my legs!¡± ¡°One would assume that they hated your legs because they keep trying to poke holes in them¡± ¡°Bah, just plug the hole you quack¡± Finric quickly got to work. It wasn¡¯t a bad wound, though it happened to be in a particularly annoying place. Victor reached into his pocket and drew something from it. Almost unconsciously, he started petting it with his thumb, his fingers curled around it protectively. Though Finric couldn¡¯t see it, he knew what it was. When Victor had first become a det, he brought his son with him. He tried his best to protect him, but the cage was merciless. The boy had only lasted a few weeks. All Victor had left of his son was the boy¡¯s favorite toy. A very small cloth dog. ¡°How many times have you been stabbed Mister Victor?¡± Cameron asked suddenly. Victor half turned around, but stopped with a grunt of surprise as Finric slapped him on the kneecap. ¡°Sorry about that.¡± He faced forward again, but kept talking to the boy. ¡°I''d say around thirty or forty?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot of times¡± The boy said, Looking at the scars on Victor¡¯s back. ¡°Aye, it is.¡± ¡°What¡¯s it like to be a fighter?¡± The boy asked, unprompted. Victor took a moment before he responded. ¡°It''s not all glory like they talk about. Sure, there¡¯s a rush. Sure you get the crowd yelling for more. And sure, you get money. But all it comes down to in the end is two scared people with a sharp thing trying their best to hurt the other one.¡± His voice quieted slightly. ¡°And some people get hurt more than others.¡± The boy considered his words for longer than usual. He looked to Finric, eying his scars. ¡°Was Mister Finric a fighter?¡± ¡°He can hear ya lad. He''s mute, not dumb. No use talking about him like he''s not there.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± The boy paused. ¡°I''m sorry Mister Finric.¡± Finric finished his stitches, and stood up. He nodded to Cameron and flashed a quick series of hand movements. ¡°He says that¡¯s alright, and he accepts your apology.¡± Finric turned to begin cleaning off his tools. His cleaning basin was slightly off center from where it should be, so he adjusted it slightly. ¡°As for whether or not he was a fighter, That¡¯s not my story to tell. Ask him one day, and he might tell you.¡± The boy seemed satisfied with the answer. Finric got out his pill case from the cabinet, but Victor shook his head. ¡°I got my own doc¡± Finric nodded, and put the case back. He turned to Victor and carefully signed ¡°Be sure to take more than normal. Your body needs material to replace what was lost.¡± Victor got off of the table with a grunt of pain. Carefully, he put the toy away in his pocket. ¡°I will Doc. And lots of water too!¡± Finric smiled, nodding his agreement. ¡°I have a brace of Cartus weed for payment. I just have to get it.¡± Victor said, walking toward the door and doing up his shirt. Finric stopped him. ¡°No need. We are even now.¡± Victor stopped doing up his shirt. ¡°What did I do again?¡± ¡°Last week when you brought Elliot to me. You sat there the entire time and helped her not be scared. I appreciate it.¡± ¡°Ah, I remember now. For having a spear stuck in her, the lass was remarkably calm the whole time.¡± ¡°I''m pretty sure that was because you kept distracting her with terrible one liners.¡± Victor laughed heartily. ¡±Thanks again doc. I''ll see you again at some point tonight I¡¯m sure.¡± Finric waved, and they both left the room. As they were walking down the hallway, Finric could hear Cameron asking more questions. He shut the door, shaking his hand in amusement. Boys and their idols. Finric felt an odd pang of something work its way through his chest. Aside from Sanson, Victor was the only one who had bothered to learn sign language. To everyone else in the house, Finric was just the crippled doctor who stitched you up or gave you pills on the cheap. Finric looked toward the door. Outside, up in the VIP box, was the Unknown. Whatever the master had planned for him, it was not going to be easy. It never was. Finric just hoped he came out intact this time. Angela, Shadows in the mist. CHAPTER FOUR ANGELA Shadows in the mist. There are no gods in the mist. No higher power can save you when a railgun round cracks your hull and lets the mist into the places you thought most safe. The mist doesn¡¯t only kill, No. It Eats. Every last scrap of organic matter to be found, from your skin all the way to your bone matter, it will obliterate. No trace of your corpse will be left, and there will be nothing but memories for those that loved you to morn your passing. By far the most insidious thing the mist does is not that it can kill you in less than thirty seconds, buy exactly how it kills you. There is no pain, no feeling at all. The only warning you will receive that your suit is breached is when you fall over from of a lack of legs, or your arms drop whatever they were holding. The only thing that can prevent that inevitable fall to a true oblivion isn¡¯t faith, or hope, or dreams or any other intangible thing. Only the strength and surety of metal can save you. And even metal, when subjected to the correct forces, can fail entirely. Trust in your shipmates, trust in your suit, trust in the Tinker. Always double check your seals and the seals of your shipmates. It will save lives. The Sailors handbook, Revision 18. Chapter Nine: Your first day in the mist. Bunkrooms usually had a calming quality to them. Once you stepped inside, the insulated tile and the noise-canceling wall panels made everything muffled and quiet. Usually that included thoughts. Instead, what should have been a calming place where thoughts could be carefully examined and discarded, the bunkroom today was doing just the opposite. The normally calming quiet allowed her mind to catch up on the last few days, and to begin its routine screaming judgement for her actions. The ship¡¯s engineer, Eron, had brought in the damage report from their recent battle twenty minutes ago. It was a long, dull read, full of dry fact and precise calculations. Despite that, Angela could have sworn the thin paper was heavier than the halfblade hanging on her hip. The railgun round had shattered upon impact with the shields, but a small fragment had impacted the outer armor and an even smaller fragment had gotten through. The report described the path of destruction that the tiny fragment had left in its wake. It had first hit the inner wall of water tanks, which had the effect of slowing the fragment down significantly, then it had passed entirely through the secondary oxygen generator, and the armored inner hull, and finally into and through the heavy bulkhead of the number two engine room. One of Eron¡¯s engineman¡¯s, a Mechator Third class by the name of Daniel Kim, had been unfortunately standing in the path of the deadly shard of metal. The piece of tungsten went entirely through the man¡¯s leg and into a steam pipe behind him. The tiny fragment had been traveling so fast that the shockwave had taken the man¡¯s leg entirely off, and thrown him against a bulkhead. Here, the report had begun to describe how badly injured the man was, and his estimated time until he was able to resume full duties. All of this was being presented in a clear and concise, almost clinical tone. That somehow made it worse than if Eron had described it in all the gory detail. One of her sailors was badly injured, and it was all her fault. Angela had skipped over that part after feeling the bile rising in her throat. What came after wasn¡¯t much better. The steam pipe had burst, instantly pressurizing the room to several psi and heating it to well over a hundred degrees Celsius. The man had evidently recovered from the sudden loss of his limb and had crawled the boiler isolation valves and shut them, despite the blood pouring out of the wound. This action had single handedly saved the other crew members in the compartment from serious burns. There were automatic protective features that were supposed to have shut the valve immediately, but by sheer dumb bad luck the fragment had blown through the automatic trip before entering the man¡¯s leg. There were other backups, but those would have taken much longer to take effect. Angela silently thanked the foresight of Eron requiring his Engineers to wear their masks at all times in the engine rooms. Without that, the man would have passed out instantly from the pressure change alone. All this would have been prevented if you had just been smarter. Angela shook her head. She could not stop the flow of the constant thoughts. Why hadn¡¯t she seen the ship sooner? Why hadn¡¯t she reacted faster? If she had ordered the pulse earlier, maybe her sailor wouldn¡¯t have gotten injured. She felt drawn into this sick cycle of remembrance and regret, fear and uncertainty, panic and terror. You were never good enough for this job. Fuck. She shook her head again, trying to clear the thoughts out like they were a physical thing. She gripped the back of her chair, and tried her best to breathe slowly. They all hate you. Okay. Fuck off. Normally, her bunkroom was a place where she could breathe and let the thoughts come out in a calm and collected way. Evidently the universe had decided that today was not that day. She resolved to leave the room immediately, lest the thoughts coagulate into a grotesque monster she could not hope to control. She adjusted the clasps on her suit and opened the door. Forcing a neutral expression onto her face, she shut the door behind her. Something vile followed her out, but it was too muffled to make out truly. She was focused now, she had a goal to meet. She took off down the corridor, heading for the ship¡¯s infirmary. The corridors were full of sailors going about the million tasks that kept the ship flying. Angela moved through the crowded corridors easily. Most sailors moved out of her way, or turned sideways to allow her to pass. Each of them gave the ship¡¯s informal salute, a finger tapped to the corner of one eyebrow. They weren¡¯t required to give the salute, and certainly not underway, but they did it anyway. Angela returned their salutes with nods, always ensuring that her face was set in that carefully neutral expression. Most of the crew recognized it for what it was; The captain was pissed, but not at any of them. She passed by the site of one of the breach repairs, and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding light of the welding torch. She nodded appreciatively at the sailors working tirelessly to repair the breach. There would be many citations given out when they returned to port. Not wanting to interrupt them, she quickly left and continued to the infirmary. Angela bent down to fit through the first pressure hatch that was locked open. She found herself in a small airlock space, at the other end of the room was another pressure hatch, currently shut. At the heavily armored hatch, she knocked. The thick metal gave off a dull booming sound that echoed in the passageways behind her. Theoretically, she was allowed to go anywhere in her own ship without announcing herself, but doing that was a fast way to get your crew to hate you. It was much better to ask before entering a space as sacred to a sailor as the infirmary. With a click, the door unlatched. A muffled voice came from the other side. ¡°Enter.¡± Angela pushed the heavy door open. It was hydraulically locked to prevent it from swinging open or closed at incredible speeds when the ship took an angle, and the long closing time allowed Angela to look around the small room before she had to fully engage in the conversation before her. Four medical beds took up much of the space. Each bed had straps connected to the frame, in case a patient needed to be tied down during maneuvers. Most of the rest of sickbay was filled with locked cabinets and drawers. A surgical table lay to one side of sickbay, in a pinch, it could double up as a fifth bed. Several oxygen bottles were strapped to the walls, along with a small carbon dioxide remover and scrubber assembly. Sickbay was exempt from the normal atmospheric controls of the ship in battle, and had a breathable atmosphere in it at all times. The airlock room she had passed through earlier would allow the nitrogen in the air to be changed out for oxygen. Though small, the room was meticulously organized and extremely clean. Angela finished shutting the door behind her. It clicked shut with a snap. She didn¡¯t bother to seal it, the ship wasn¡¯t in a combat situation. Inside, the ship''s doctor was filling out paperwork at a small desk mounted to the wall. The doctor was a short woman, with almost shaved hair and thick spectacles that she kept perched on the very end of her nose. She was a Tinker, and wore one of their characteristic suits, though her did seem lighter than the norm. Her helmet was off currently, sitting on her desk. Angela¡¯s attention was immediately taken by the injured sailor lying on the bed. He looked to be young, about early-twenties. Searching her memory, Angela arrived at his name. Daniel Kim was a relatively new hire from landing. Davon¡¯s apprenticeship program has seen his file pass across her desk a mere year ago. She remembered the interview. He had seemed highly motivated, and extremely intelligent. Evidently he was both of those things, as Eron had allowed him to stand watch in one of his precious engine rooms after only a year on board. That in of itself was unusual. Kim was awake, and reading a thick book with a hard black cover sitting propped up on his one remaining leg. Angela felt her stomach tighten up as she looked at the sight. Fight back bile, Angela forced a smile onto her face. Kim looked up as he heard the door snap shut. His eyes slightly widened and he shut the book. He looked up at her attentively. ¡°Good afternoon Captain. What can I do for you?¡± Angela¡¯s smile became slightly less forced. ¡°Good afternoon Mechator Kim. I wanted to come in and see how you were doing, and how-¡° Angala paused. She had a whole conversation planned out. But seeing the kid lying there with no leg, looking entirely too un-broken made something inside her fail to work correctly. ¡°I wanted to make sure you were alright¡± She finished lamely. The boy nodded, smiling. ¡°Thank you for askin¡¯ ma¡¯m. Im doin just fine over here. Me n¡¯ doc were just talkin about my options goin forward.¡± Angela exchanged a look with doc. She nodded at her and signed for Angela to continue. Angela turned back to the boy. ¡°Did you deicide anything? He nodded ¡°I want to stay on the Phoenix Ma¡¯m. If you¡¯ll have me.¡± Angela¡¯s eyes widened. She had expected hatred and vitriol, anger and rage, She had not expected resolve and the want to stay on the ship that had literally cost him a leg. The boy kept talking, a flood of words spilling out. ¡°I can still be useful! Im studi¡¯n up on me plant knowledge, and im still trying to get me master engineer qual. I haven¡¯t given up, and I wont because I lost a stupid leg. Doc said she could have me fitted with a prosthetic once we pull back in, and i donna have to pay for it or nothin. I want to be here.¡± He said that last part with so much utter conviction, Angela was taken aback. ¡°I thought you would want to at least go home, spend some time with your famil-¡° The boy was already shaking his head. ¡°Aint got none. Davon gave me that ticket when I turned 16. I was at the landing yards until I turned 19, passed the test and got the posting here. I donna have no blood family. All my family is on this boat. I aint leavin less¡¯ you order me.¡± The boy bowed his head slightly. He seemed embarrassed to have said all of that. It appeared that the story had been building up in him for a while. Kim continued, much more somber. ¡°When Davon gave me that ticket, I had no plan, no nothin. I was gonna get out of that orphanage and right onto the streets. I prolly wouda ended up as a Detter.¡± He swallowed, his next words thick with emotion. ¡°I Cant go back. All I know is this boat. You and Davon gave me a purpose, Gave me a home. That¡¯s more than I evea thought I was gonna get. Angela revised her mental picture of Mechator Kim. Not a boy. A man given purpose by a boat and fearing that it all could be taken away for something out of his control. Angela could empathize with the sentiment. She nodded to herself. At some point in the conversation, the forced smile had become a real one. ¡°Mechator Kim. Your orders are to recover enough to resume your duties. When we hit port at Landing, you will take two weeks of leave. After those two weeks, Doc will evaluate you. I would be honored to have you on this ship if she clears you for duty.¡± The engineer nodded furiously, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. ¡°Aye Ma¡¯m. I wont let you down.¡± Angela turned on her heel and started to push the door open. She caught Doc¡¯s eye and nodded to the outer hallway. She stood up and followed her out of the room. Standing In the small airlock, she waited until Doc had shut the hatch behind her. ¡°How likely is he to make a recovery?¡± Doc shrugged. ¡°Aside from his leg, the injures are very minor. The suit protected him from much of the spalling and follow on shrapnel. If the piece didn¡¯t pass right through the kid, he would have been entirely fine. As it was, the suit also shielded him from the steam blast, the active cooling kept his burns first degree instead of third.¡± ¡°And the prosthetic?¡± Angela asked. The Doctor shrugged again. ¡°It all depends on him. The shell took out the leg at the upper thigh, and attaching a prosthetic should be relatively easy. The physical therapy is the main thing that could hinder his recovery.¡± ¡°Overall time?¡± ¡°Give me three weeks. Eron is working on something for the kid, and ill start on the physical therapy right after its finished.¡± Angela nodded. ¡°I know I said all that in there, but you have full authority to deny him. I don¡¯t want to take that from you¡± A smile cracked the woman¡¯s normally stoic face. ¡°Of course Captain. Thank you.¡± They turned away from each other, Angela began walking to her cabin. She passed through one of the main inner hull hatches. It was easily 4 meters in diameter, sized to be enough to transit parts and equipment through. The ship was divided up into two major parts. The inner hull and the outer hull. The outer hull contained compartments and equipment that could be lost and not cause the ship to fall out of the sky. The inner hull contained everything absolutely required to keep the ship flying. Things such as the four engine rooms, the prime and secondary bastion, and Eron¡¯s machine shop. Each one of those rooms also had heavy armor surrounding them. For a railgun round to make it all the way through the three layers of heavy armor and impact the two alpha turbine generator spoke to how close they had all come to nearly falling uncontrollably into the dark yesterday. The Phoenix had been under fire before, but the rounds had all mostly been turned aside by the outer armor. No round had ever made its way all the way into the inner hull. For those who were newer to the ship, it was a wake up call that their job wasn¡¯t normal or safe in the slightest. For those who had been with Angela since the beginning, it was a sobering reminder of the cost of their fighting. Angela opened the door to her cabin in the outer hull, located next to all the officer¡¯s cabins. There was an actual chair and desk, as well as a wardrobe setup that held more than one uniform set. It was also entirely private, and she could actually sit up in the bed without her head hitting the rack above her. Angela had spent most of her life on a ship, and she was used to sleeping in a bunkroom with several other people. When she was in the fleet, she was always stationed on tiny corvette class ships, and even the captain had to share a room on those boats. The Phoenix was different. It was the largest ship she had ever lived on, and the captain had their own cabin. She hated it. It felt wrong somehow. Angela barely spent any nights here. Angela¡¯s tiny battle rack was in the inner hull section, and she spent nearly every night there instead. In the event of a sudden attack, the spaces outside of the secondary hull would be especially dangerous, and Angela did not want to fight her way through the passageways to make it all the way into the prime bastion to command the ship. Not to mention, it felt dirty to not be sleeping in the same room as several other people. All of her officers also followed Angela¡¯s example. So much so, that some of their rooms had been given over for extra storage space. Angela grabbed an extra uniform and changed. She hadn¡¯t been able to do so since the fight yesterday, and even though the suit was actively cooled, it was not enough to prevent some sweating. Angela eyed the private shower lustfully. As much as she disliked the cabin, it did have some perks. She shook her head and put on the clean uniform. She resolved to use deodorant and the hint of ozone that still permeated the ship to hide her lack of a shower. On her way back to the secondary hull, she passed by the Engineer¡¯s cabin. The door was open, and a sailor was stacking boxes of food inside. It looked like Eron had never even used the room before. Angela snorted to herself. For all she knew, Eron probably pitched a hammock under a turbine generator somewhere and used the extremely loud screeching to lull him to sleep. As she walked, she passed by more repair work in the outer hull. The single railgun round had done a moderate amount of damage, but it wasn¡¯t anything that couldn¡¯t be fixed relatively quickly. The main casualty was the number two engine room. Without it, the ship lost much of its backup electrical power. Lose another one, and the ship suddenly couldn¡¯t support both shields and railguns anymore. Not a good tactical situation. Not to mention that the lift arrays were located in the engine rooms, and if they lost two lift arrays on the same side, there was a good chance the ship wouldn¡¯t pull into port ever again. Angela stopped at the doorway to the prime bastion. She stared up at the Plaque mounted above the door. Sailors were a superstitious bunch, and if the true commissioning plaque was damaged or lost, and the ship survived, it was said that the ship would not survive much longer. Angela patted the ship¡¯s name and bent down to enter the Prime Bastion. Once inside, she surveyed the compartment. The Navigator was standing at the Conn, watching the Oculus intently. Ameillia was a woman of average height with dark grey eyes and short black hair. She was one of Angela¡¯s more intense officers. She tended to take her job extremely seriously, often to the point of near obsession. She was currently absorbed in tracking the wake of the Cortez class cargo ship that they were still trailing. Luckily, the ship wasn¡¯t running very heavy, so they were much slower than Angela had expected. They also hadn¡¯t run out their radiators, which told Angela that they were still trying to hide from someone at least. The captain made her way up to the Conn and stood next to her navigator. She watched her manipulate the Oculus for a moment and then broke the silence.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°When will we be in range?¡± The Navigator looked at her. ¡°Another hour if we utilized the turrets. Ten minutes with the spinal, and two hours ago with a long-range torpedo or missile.¡± Angela nodded. The railguns could hit from much further out than they currently were, but the enemy ship would dodge out of the way before the shells impacted. They were quickly approaching the range at which the enemy ship couldn¡¯t dodge in time, and both vessels knew it. The chase would be decided within the hour, regardless of what happened. ¡°Have they sent a message?¡± The navigator shook her head, a short birdlike motion. ¡°No captain, We have sent your demand to surrender several times, but they have not responded¡± Angela nodded her head. ¡°Very well. I Relive you. The Captain has the Conn.¡± The navigator nodded once again and saluted. ¡°I stand relieved. The Captain has the Conn.¡± The communication officer grabbed his logbook in reflex and started writing in it. Angela saluted her officer back, and once her hand had dropped she turned back to the Oculus. Angela flicked a switch in the overhead and grabbed a mic holstered there. She pressed the speak button on the mic twice, the loud click resonated through the bastion twice. Angela knew the click would also be heard all over the ship. The low level murmurs in the bastion quieted almost instantly. Each one of her officers and crew stopped whatever they were doing and listened. Angela held down the mic button and started her speech. ¡°This is the Captain. As most of you know by now, a shipmate was injured in the battle yesterday, to the extent of losing his leg. He will live, and we sank the bastards that did it. Now, we are currently in pursuit of their friends. Soon, we will be in combat once more. I call upon each and every one of you to do your duty to the maximum extent possible. The enemy out there wishes you were incompetent. Wishes you were derelict in your duties. But I know the truth. This crew is the finest I have ever served with. We shall prove that to the enemy today beyond any shadow of a doubt. I Expect to see you all on the other side. All hands, Man your Battle stations, Set condition one throughout the ship. Ashes to Embers!¡± She un-keyed the mike, and the crew in the bastion responded to the battle cry with one of their own, ¡°Embers to Flame!¡± Angela holstered the mic and sat down in the command chair. She drew the straps tight and took out her mask from its holder. ¡°Damage control, Set condition one throughout the ship upon muster confirmation. Quartermaster, sound general quarters. Weapons, Firing solution on Romeo-Alfa with the all mounts. Load shrapnel. Shields, Set for low ripple, heat up the hull. ¡°Aye Ma¡¯m, One minute until loaded.¡± Angela nodded. While waiting for the general quarters alarm to stop, Angela finished putting on her mask. She tested the seal and engaged the active cooling. ¡°Comms, send the following. Pirate ship, you will be destroyed if you do not stop your engines and prepare to be boarded. This is your final warning.¡± The communication officer tapped away on his morse transmitter, broadcasting the message through the mist to the enemy vessel. Angela waited for several moments. As if in response, the enemy ship flickered on the Oculus. ¡°Romeo-Alfa is extending radiators!¡± Came the cry from Sensors. Damn it. The ship could outrun them easily with those. ¡°Weapons, fire two heat seeker missiles.¡± ¡°Aye Captain¡± Angela pondered the Oculus for a moment. The ship was running somewhere, but to where was the issue. If there were more stealth warships out there, the Phoenix was in danger. The two missiles shot toward the enemy ship. They honed in on the pirate ship¡¯s radiators, which had just started to emit heat. ¡°Romeo-Alfa is launching countermeasures!¡± Angela watched as two massive thermal blooms showed up on each side of the enemy ship. Civilian ships were expected to have countermeasures at the very least, but- ¡°Missiles are diverting, Heat signature of the countermeasures has been matched!¡± Damnit. Angela ground her teeth in frustration. Eron¡¯s missiles were smarter than most normal military missiles, but the pirates had just launched military-grade countermeasures that matched their parent ship¡¯s heat signature exactly. The missile''s dull minds had chosen the wrong targets, and Angela watched them veer off course and impact the countermeasures. ¡°Romeo-Alfa¡¯s Speed is rising, estimate three minutes until they overtake us.¡± Fuck it. Angela was tired of playing games with a godforsaken cargo ship. ¡°Engineering, prepare for burner activation. One minute Burn ready on my mark. Pilot, all ahead flank.¡± ¡°Aye Captain. Burner ready in thirty seconds.¡± Angela took the mic from the overhead. ¡°Quartermaster, sound rapid maneuvers. Weapons, sight in for a maneuvering kill.¡± ¡°Aye¡± The alarm sounded, four short pulses spaced only a few seconds apart. Angela tightened her restraints, she saw the rest of the people in the Bastion doing the same. She clicked the button on the mic. ¡°All hands, Prepare for burner activation.¡± She holstered the mic and regarded her info panel. Calculating bearing was almost second nature at this point in her career. ¡°Burner ready Captain.¡± Angela nodded. ¡°Very well.¡± The enemy vessel was accelerating slowly, and would peel out of their range shortly. Time to change that. ¡°Activate Burners.¡± The Tinker at the controls opened up a glass cover and hit a red button labeled ¡®BURNER ACTIVATION¡¯. Deep in the recesses of her ship, an interesting process was taking place. Normally, the four massive turbine engines of the Phoenix drew in mist from huge intakes on the front of the ship. At high speeds, this mist was compressed by the turbines until it formed a solid stream of highly pressurized water that jetted out the back of the ship, pushing the entire thing forward. This was the propulsion system most modern warships used and had used for hundreds of years. Eron had taken one look at that system and decided to give it one of his trademark ¡®upgrades¡¯. At the outlet of the engines, a powerful array of heat lattices was activated that heated the water up several hundred degrees. Normally, this would cause the water to flash to steam, but the high pressure at the turbine discharge held the water together, keeping it in a liquid state for the moment. The water travelled out the nozzles and suddenly found lots of room to expand. Pressure dropped, and nearly every drop instantly turned to steam. Since steam took up much more volume than water, it expanded rather rapidly against the nozzles, the constant quadruple steam explosion pushing the Phoenix forward at a rather alarming rate of acceleration. Angela¡¯s body pressed into her seat. The Oculus lit up with a streak of red as the heat from the burners lit them up for everyone in a forty-kilometer radius to see. The distance between the Phoenix and the Cortez class closed rapidly. Angela could imagine the look on their captain¡¯s face as the several thousand-ton warship accelerated forward like a missile. ¡°Mount one and two, Fire!¡± Angela watched the red beams blast out and blow through the enemy¡¯s shields. The unarmored radiators were instantly shredded, and the ship¡¯s speed dropped rapidly. Red streaks of hot water rained from the broken ports. ¡°Secure the burners!¡± Angela said. Almost immediately, the extra weight vanished. She breathed in deep, trying to get the feeling of normality back. After shredding the radiators, the mounts retargeted. Two guns fired, their slugs turning to shrapnel upon impact with the shields. Some pieces of shrapnel continued on their way, and peppered the aft of the ship with craters. Most of the ship¡¯s engines stopped. One prop entirely fell off and spiraled down into the dark. Much of the engine room¡¯s atmosphere vented out the back of the ship, and then the mist began to flow in. Angela cursed. The sentiment was echoed by the weapons officer, who was looking at his calculations with a furrowed brow. He turned to Angela. ¡°Apologies Captain, I miscalculated the voltage, it wont happen again.¡± Angela nodded once. ¡°Ensure that it doesn¡¯t.¡± The weapon¡¯s officer turned back to his calculations and softly cursed again. Angela wouldn¡¯t hold it against him. Railgun velocities were an incredibly difficult calculation at the best of times, and these certainly were not. They were unlikely to get the ship anyway with how the last one had fallen into the Dark. ¡°Pilot, all ahead Full. Set an intercept course for Romeo-Alfa¡± Reflexively, she turned her eyes upward to the open mic to the secondary Bastion. ¡°Davon, gather your marines, Use the shuttles and tell Eron to prep the crane array. I want that ship.¡± ¡°Aye captain¡± Came the muffled reply. ¡°I would like to attend the raid if you would allow me.¡± Angela raised her eyebrows. ¡°Any particular reason why? ¡°A leader must be willing to do themselves anything that they command others to do.¡± Angela grinned slightly. ¡°Then by that logic, I will be joining the boarding party next time.¡± There was an interrupted laugh, and Davon replied. ¡°All due respect Captain, but I¡¯m not entirely sure we could fit the Throngler in the shuttle.¡± Angela felt a slight heat of embarrassment color her cheeks. The weapon was a constant source of contention between her and the Xo. Basically, it amounted to Davon wondering ¡°Why in the black dammed fuck do you need a god-damn woman portable tank cannon as a primary weapon?¡± Evidently ¡®Because I can¡¯ was not an acceptable response. Unless your name was Eron evidently, who had happily made the stupid overpowered thing at her request. ¡°Very well, Carry on then.¡± ¡°Carry one Aye, I will report when my party is ready.¡± They crept toward the enemy ship. The mist incursion had stopped, but whether that was because the compartment was full of the murderous substance, or because they had sealed the breach, Angela couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°Multiple red contacts! Bearing 015 Mark 34 range fifty kilometers! Designate Romeo Bravo and Charlie!¡± Angela¡¯s head swiveled. The Oculus now showed two large distinct dots approaching them a decent rate of speed. The ships were bringing their shields up, and their signals indicated only four railguns between the two of them, unless they were keeping a few in reserve. Angela watched the ships closing. ¡°Still there Davon?¡± She asked. ¡°Aye, got back in my chair as soon as I heard the alert.¡± She nodded. ¡°I think those are missile ships. Only two mounts apiece, and a rather low shield signal. I think they intend to get in range and open up with their entire magazine. Davon, get in contact with Eron and get me an estimate on how many missiles they carry¡± ¡°I concur. Should we launch now or wait till they close in?¡± Angela frowned and shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to waste the missiles. If they launch too many for us, we can always run.¡± ¡°We should probably launch a scout for the ranging information.¡± ¡°Agreed. Flight control, launch two scouts. Make sure they stay quiet.¡± ¡°Aye Captain. Launching now.¡± Just as the officer finished the statement, the two contacts began to bloom with heat. ¡°Vampire Vampire Vampire! Confirmed missile launch from Romeo Bravo and Charlie. Twelve and counting!¡± The tiny red dots began accelerating toward the Phoenix. The enemy contacts slowed their rush forward now that they were in range and kept disgorging missiles. Angela¡¯s eyebrows raised further and further up her head as yet more missiles were fired. It was clear they weren¡¯t going to stop anytime soon. ¡°Pilot! Right full rudder, Port ahead full, Starboard stop! Make your bearing 345!¡± The pilot split his throttle lever shoving the leftmost one all the way to the forward stop and pulling the rightmost lever all the way back. He manipulated his controls and the ship swung around, tilting to the side as the engines shoved the cruiser in a powerful turn. ¡°Weapons target the countermeasures, set for ten kilometers.¡± Once the ship spun, she gave the next order. ¡°Ease the rudder! All ahead flank!¡± The Phoenix was slowly accelerating out of the missiles¡¯ path. Slowly, their trajectories curved to follow. The Enemy ships had finally stopped launching missiles, and over four hundred were now streaking toward the Phoenix. The ship¡¯s had resolved themselves on the Oculus. They were of a class Angela had never seen before, and while their weight indicated a frigate sized hull, they were extremely long, with missile hatches lining their entire length. It appeared their entire purpose was to launch an overwhelming wave at missiles at any opponent, and hope that they could take care of the problem. Based on the lack of closed tubes, both ships had fired their entire magazine at the Phoenix, and were now closing in on the Cortez class ship. ¡°Captain, Eron says a maximum of two hundred and fifty each based on their current configuration. He also notes that the enemy vessels are entirely unique, and he has no knowledge of their designs.¡± Angela shook her head. Uncannily accurate as always. The scouts were holding back, coasting silently along on electric drives, they were producing excellent ranging information with their arrays. She calculated bearings and distances. Ultimately, there was not much her ship could do against the missiles. With that many, even a Syphon ship would be hard-pressed to absorb that much damage. It was an odd tactic to use against a relatively nimble single-target contact. Saturation fire was much more suited to fleet engagements, or a battle with a Syphon. Angela tapped her chin with one hand. She could take her shields to full, but there was a chance that another one of those stealth ships was waiting out there for exactly that to strike a killing blow. ¡°All Stop! Drop ballast tanks one through four! Right full rudder! Launch countermeasures! Several things happened at once. The bastion exploded into movement as nearly every panel operator suddenly found things to do. The ship groaned as thousands of pounds of water were dropped from the bottom. The lift arrays were taken to full power immediately afterwards, and the ship shot upwards. Streams of vibrant red shot out from the Phoenix as the countermeasures launched. Such was their acceleration, Angela was pressed down into her seat for the second time that day, though this time in a downward direction. The missiles tried to follow them up, but the cruiser''s ludicrous change in velocity made that a difficult prospect. Adding to this, their greatest source of heat had vanished as the Phoenix¡¯s engines turned off and the ship jetted upwards. The tiny clockwork brains worked the problem and decided that the countermeasures were now the appropriate target. The great wave of missiles split off in two directions, looking like the upraised wings of some massive bird. They kept rising, faster and faster. Once they had finally turned around Angela gave the order to ease the rudder again and secure the rise. The ship was now pointing directly toward where the Enemy ships were. The Phoenix¡¯s main signal array couldn¡¯t actually see the enemy vessels, but the scouts that they had launched earlier were providing excellent targeting information and forwarding it using their paired lattice arrays. One of the enemy¡¯s missiles hit a countermeasure far below. The missile instantly began to emit heat, and a vibrant sphere of red emitted out of it. Instead of stopping there, the missile got hotter and hotter, quickly reaching a temperature that would have made the missiles shear through the Phoenix¡¯s shields like they weren¡¯t even there. An alarm began to ring, a loud buzzing roar that filled the bastion. The heat limit alarm. All of the air left the room at once as all of the bridge crew and she realized what the alarm meant. The enemy was using heat penetrator missiles in the deep mist. Above a certain temperature, coincidentally the same temperature required for an object to pierce the shield of a shield lattice, the mist reacted, sending out a signal that could be seen from hundreds of kilometers away. Any ship with sensors would know exactly where they were. But that was not the problem. The problem was that the signal the mist sent out attracted something that every sailor feared. The enemy ships were prepared to do anything to kill the Phoenix, and that included risking attracting a Sentinel. ¡°All stop. Secure all shield lattices, drop all ballast. Rig the ship for silent running.¡± Angela¡¯s orders came out in a quiet tone, almost a whisper. Despite that, every officer in the bastion could hear her clearly. Officers hurried to follow her orders. Railguns were de-energized, shields were lowered, and the Phoenix made itself as light as possible by dropping the remaining ballast it had. The ship wobbled in the air. The lift officer secured all of the normal lift arrays, and transferred over to the signal blocked arrays. These were smaller than the normal arrays, but would entirely block any lift signal from leaving the ship. With the tiny lifting power of the signal blocked arrays and the lack of weapons, the Phoenix would be utterly defenseless if any more stealth ships showed themselves, but in that moment, Angela did not care. Far worse than a stealth ship was what would happen if they were detected by a Sentinel. The crew waited. The temperature of the Bastion seemed to have dropped by several degrees. Conversation was held in whispers, each station conveying orders and reports as quietly as they could, as if their silence would save them. The two enemy ships continued forward, toward the Cortez cargo ship. They had their radiators out, and were charging their railguns. They probably couldn¡¯t see the Phoenix, but they were moving in a position to search for their target that had so quickly vanished. They would never get the chance. Up out of the dark, a sphere of black grew incredibly quickly. Gargantuan in scale, dwarfing all contacts in the immediate vicinity. It was if a mountain had appeared out of thin air. It was so large; the majority of the Oculus was taken up by its insane form. The Oculus itself had had a hard time rendering it. Jagged ever changing angry black lines emanated from it, and the object fuzzed in and out of view, as if on a television with bad reception. There was a SOUND. A screaming, pulse of energy that was felt at a deep visceral level instead of heard. It left a ringing in her ears that grew until she could hear nothing but it. The mist pulsed, responding to the sound, swirling around the Sentinel like a whirlpool. The two enemy ships were fleeing, their propellers spinning with all the power they could muster. Another SOUND. Blood trickled from her ears, pooling in the neck seal of her helmet. One of the vacuum tubes on her panel exploded. Powdered shards of glass dusted the conn. Then, all the sound in the world stopped. The Oculus flickered, spasming in the way a calculator did when someone tried to divide by zero. The falling shards of glass stopped in midair. Time froze. Gravity vanished. The phoenix began to fall. The pilot adjusted his controls, attempting to glide the massive warship away from the angry god. A beam of nothing appeared, connecting the Sentinel to the enemy ship that had launched the missile, spanning the distance in less than the time it took her to blink. The beam was wider than most cities. The beam of light became narrower and narrower until it was a single pinprick of light on the hull of the offender. And then, in a great instant of violence, the enemy vessel crushed inwards, thousands of tons of steel collapsing into the space of a clenched fist in less than a second. There was a flash of light from the enemy vessel, a gigantic explosion contained by an incredible shielding force. A breath, and the glass fell to the deck. She could breathe again, and the did so, taking in deep gasps of air like she had just run a marathon. Gravity returned and the ship began to regain the altitude it had lost. The Sentinel flowed back into the dark, evidently satisfied that the interloper had been dealt with. The ball of light and heat that had once been a ship followed it into the dark. Within seconds, there was no trace of either remaining. The sensor officer cleared his throat. ¡°Romeo Bravo destroyed. Romeo Charlie on course 134 at twenty-five knots.¡± Angela reorientated. The lingering effects of the Sentinel cleared, and the Oculus resumed showing her the position of the ships. The remaining missile ship was spiraling slowly down toward the dark, none of its shields active. It had been too close to its sister ship when the beam fired, and probably suffered a loss of all electrical power. Luckily the Phoenix was so far away, else they might have been caught up in it as well. ¡°Weapons, prepare a full volley with all mounts, targeting Romeo Charlie.¡± The officer¡¯s acknowledged, and Angela studied the information coming in from the scouts who were thankfully still flying. The salvo thudded out all at once, an overwhelming burst of sound and energy. The ship was cleaved entirely in twain as the spinal shot simply erased a large portion of the hull. Its pieces fell into the dark. A mercy killing, like ending the suffering of a wounded animal. She felt no pleasure in this victory. The enemy had tried to kill her with their missiles, and they might have succeeded against a lesser ship, but the Phoenix was powerful. Even if the Sentinel hadn¡¯t shown up, she would have had no problem erasing the ships from her Oculus. Regardless, the souls on board those two ships were still sailors, and they hadn¡¯t deserved the death they got. Angela did not believe in a god. Higher powers were irrelevant when faced with the certainty of reality. But whenever she watched as a Sentinel rose, or a dragon flew, she was reminded that the world was full of things far more powerful than they ought. It was at times like these when she understood the Tinker¡¯s worship of the Lattices and the Mist. For when a logical person was confronted with something unexplainable, clear, and terrifyingly observable, they had to come to some conclusion deep within themselves. Lest they fall into madness. She recalled a prayer, one that was far older than her, far older than most civilizations. She was rarely one to pray, but she felt as if the occasion demanded it. She spoke the prayer, holding her clenched fist against her suit¡¯s pressure regulator strapped to her chest, as she had been taught by her mother. ¡°Ashes, dust, light, By our memories and our logs we shall remember those souls that we condemn to the dark, in hope that their journey to the shall be short, and that when they arrive, the Progenitors shall greet them warmly as one of their own and allow them into the paradise of Last Light.¡±