CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Snatched from torment's grasp, Soran sauntered through a series of crudely constructed archways into a room dense with grizzled bodies. Every man was hard at work loading the weapon cache and arming the cannons with a determined fervor. The pirates were preparing for war. The boy stumbled forward into the center of the room, silent stillness replacing the cacophony of feverish movement. The pirates turned, staring at the bloodstained boy with expressions that ranged from curiosity to apathy. The men were disheveled, bearded, tattooed, and augmented, none fully human. All bore Kaligan's signature golden canines, welded deep into the diseased gums of their lower jaws. Abruptly, one of the men let out a triumphant roar, raising his fist victoriously in Soran's direction. More and more men joined the celebration, throwing salutes toward the boy in solidarity. The duo behind him raised him, held high for all to see. An ocean of adulation lay before him. The entire crew had adopted him into their ranks, honoring an act that bought him nothing but despair. Though Kaligan's bloodlust had animated the blade, his inaction guaranteed the outcome. As he rode on the sea of lost souls, he could only weep.
Soran buried his regret in labor, hauling leaden crates to their destination and trying to ignore the metallic stench of dried blood that clung to his soiled suit. The deafening sound of the engines sparking to life engulfed the ship in a thick mist of spent fuel.
"Rise!" One of the pirates yelled into a rickety shoot, the crude method of communication connecting to the engine room below. Upon the command's utterance, the Gallowmare craned backward around forty-five degrees. Soran adjusted his stance to compensate, scarcely avoiding a fall. Above the ship was a huge mine shaft that connected the expansive caverns to the surface. The boy felt the gravitational pressure constrict his entire body as they ascended. So swift was the advancing velocity that his joints began to creak, his knees wavering under stress. The Gallowmare's intimidating bow pierced through a veil of smog that lay thick on the moon's surface. A byproduct of the mining operation, the cloud was tinted pink from Bohlatite vapors. The pressure from their ascent subsided. Soran let out a deep, pained sigh as his lungs decompressed.
Hovering motionless over the crater-filled expanse of the moon's outer shell, the barbed visage of the Gallowmare's headless Siren shone in the distant sunlight. Silence fell in the ship's lower decks, and the men gathered to look from the portholes that supported the canons. Curiosity's temptation lured Soran over, sleuthing through a group of pirates and catching a glimpse of their captivation. He was met with a familiar sight. He had encountered it only once, when he was just a young boy. On the same occasion, he had almost observed one of the Navy's formidable Admirals. It was a Citadel-class vessel; that alone was reason enough to flee. But this particular ship was the pride of the Navy, second only to the fabled Eureka that had gone down in flames during the infamous calamity: The Plata Lanza.
The ships were mirrors of each other in size; the Plata Lanza, however, gained iconic status for the Herculean lance extruding from her bow. The lance was the same length as the vessel's body, its tip piercing out into the heavens it stalked. The Navy, it appeared, anticipated the arrival of the Gallowmare, their ship facing the enemy head-on. The near iridescent glow of the Lanza's smooth metallic shell was blinding.
The door behind Soran burst open, smashing into a stack of ammunition and sending bullets and plasma grenades flying. Kaligan had returned. The men offered nothing but open-mouthed stares, dumbfounded at the peculiar stance of their enigmatic leader and silently praying a one-way trip to his office for a session of 'discipline' was not on the cards.
"I believe it's about time we said hello to our friend, the Admiral. He will surely be awaiting his welcoming gift." Kaligan said, expectantly. The men seemed to understand the vague statement; Soran, however, was left perplexed.
Ripping open the outer casing at the apex of each cannon, the pirates stuffed the gullet of each weapon with plasma grenades until all brimmed with the cobalt glow of the activated spheres. Without hesitation, they cranked a lever at the canon's rear, bolting their palms to their ears in preparation. Soran quickly followed suit, ducking down with his head tucked between his arms. His naive display generated great amusement from the other pirates.
A volley of successive cannon fire cascaded from the starboard side, sending violent waves rolling through the entire ship. Soran lifted his head and watched blue lights sail at incredible speed over the moon's surface. He stared in amazement as the orbs danced in formation, a ballet of imminent destruction. They exploded spectacularly mere meters before the Naval ship, colliding with a freshly erected resonance field. Most modern ships possessed at least a cursory form of resonance protection, but the hexagonal grid protecting the Lanza was unfamiliar to Soran. After each impact, it shimmered defiantly in a mixture of earthy hues, swiftly returning to its original translucent state. It was advanced technology, most likely having been developed by the NRAD division of the government. NRAD operated numerous questionable projects for their government masters, most notably the unethical testing of chemical and biological weapons. Lanic had had his suspicions when he worked for them once, going so far as to confront a scientist directly. Unfortunately, this noble action resulted in a lengthy stay in solitary confinement for the audacious engineer. Since then, trusting the government has never been something Soran had much faith in. Despite their mutual disdain for Pirates, his suspicions of those who held power would remain forever marred by his mentor's experience.
Even amid the ensuing chaos, the bridge of the Plata Lanza retained a stoic atmosphere, her silver-haired Captain manning the bridge with uncharacteristic calm. A slew of nervous personnel sat bolted to their stations, awaiting her command. She observed as the incoming barrage of plasma grenades evaporated before the might of her shields, like flies smashing against glass.
"Captain Noctei, how do we respond?" asked her Vice-Captain, not wanting to agitate his short-tempered superior. She jostled a coin between her fingers, contemplating her answer for a few moments.
"Ready the Banshee. We don't want to disappoint Admiral Hail." She replied calmly. The man quickly hurried over to a set of pristine consoles and began to input various security codes to reveal a previously hidden hatch. A triangular formation of switches arose, and the man timidly backed away; the potential for devastation overwhelmed him. He plunged his stubby fingers onto the panel and activated the switches simultaneously. The Lanza whirred to life, the Vice-Capitan's actions rippling through the hull. A vast forest of pistons, the centerpiece of the weapons bay, spurred into overdrive as they initiated the launch. The ship's underside craned open like a monstrous hawk unfurling its wings, bathing the lunar surface in shadow. Vast segments of folded Nanoalloy bloomed out, displaying an ornately decorated Plasma canon that focused in on the central mast of the Gallowmare.
Kaligan haunted the thoroughfares of his ship, barking orders at his crew as he hastily stalked his way to the bridge. Upon arrival, he crashed into a bizarre contraption, his giant frame swallowed by its shadow. Innumerable tubes sprung to life in his presence, proximity sensors rooting them into fleshy sockets that decorated his arms, chest, and legs. The device began furiously pumping Shimmersene directly into his veins, inducing an adrenalin-fuelled stare tainted with wickedness. Orders were no longer necessary; his men knew exactly what to do. A crescent of operators fanned out before their Captain under the gaze of a panoramic glass screen, which was currently displaying a wide-angle view of the Lanza. Each man inserted his key into the four main control consoles, tapping furiously at their screens. The Gallowmare roared.
Metal spikes sprung from her exterior, extending until the spined network encompassed the entire vessel. Emitting a spark of light from their tips, the spikes began to hum. Thousands of tiny bulbs shone from the Gallowmare, coalescing into a spherical resonance field. Kaligan's body swelled with the viscous cocktail. He feverishly gripped the shell of his throne, attempting to regain some semblance of sobriety. Despite recharging his artificial body regularly, Kaligan found himself consistently overwhelmed by the experience.
Today, he refused to be on the losing end of the exchange, determined to best his foe. His crew had remained loyal after his previous defeat. However, a second humiliation would be unforgivable.
The Admirals stood atop an adversarial peak for all pirate-kind. Slaying this most mythic opponent would catapult the heroic individual into the chronicles of pirate history. Scrawled for all eternity into the sacred pages of the Atlazar, their courageous tale enduring until the end of days. Every pirate that had met an Admiral in combat had perished, all witnesses to these legendary clashes along with them. Due to this, any information pertinent to the Admiral's destruction remained obscured. To achieve this most highly sought-after honor, the pirates entered the enemy's lair blind. For Kaligan, it was a challenge he was more than eager to accept.
The cannon beneath the Plata Lanza began to charge, collecting particles from its surroundings. Soran watched in awe as the very surface of the moon was atomized and inhaled by the cannon. Physical matter was fused with plasma, causing the reservoir of energy inside to swell. As swiftly as it began, the gathering ceased. The Gallowmare's crew braced themselves for the impact, diving to the ground with hands cradling their heads. A flash of light erupted from the Banshee, and a concentrated beam smashed against the pirate shields. The outer layers of the moon were torn asunder. An immense fissure bore deep into the surface, exposing the mines inside. Dust clouds plumed miles into the sky, creating an ethereal curtain between the two ships. Captain Noctei waited patiently to gaze upon the wreckage of the pirate abomination. Impressing the Admiral -- who was viewing the affair from a nearby vantage -- was the Captain's highest priority. He would surely be delighted with her for dispatching their enemy with such swiftness, demonstrating the Galactic Navy's undeniable might.
As the dust settled, the red glow from the Bohlatite mines pierced through the clouds, revealing the effects of the Banshee's power. Noctei's expression soured. Her fingers curled into fists, and her lips tightened to cage the scream behind them. The pirate shields remained intact. A significant scorch mark had torched the outer layers in a spider web pattern, but not so much as a single particle had passed through. The Gallowmare remained unharmed.
