CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ranna hoisted Tugg to his feet. Tugg examined the Thistlegore's damage, gazing sorrowfully at his lost appendage. The sealant spray had welded the stump that was once his arm into a metallic cap, and, for better or worse, that's how it would remain until they could get him to a machinist. It was a purely sentimental emotion as prosthetics were more common in the galaxy than biological limbs and a damn sight more useful.

  El patted Tugg's back, and the three crewmates shared a brief moment of reflection. They were alive. Despite Soran being less than useless and having to rely on Captain Hallow's pity, they survived the ordeal. The respite, however, was never destined to last long.

  "Do we have a backup?" asked El, wondering what her Captain had planned now that their pirate hunter ace had proved to be another nobody, masquerading beneath a cloak of competence.

  "Think on our feet, as always. We've been up against guys like Kaligan before. Nothing we can't handle," Ranna said, putting his arm around Tugg as he spoke. Pushing morale further into the mud now would be suicide, so giving his crew a flicker of hope was the only solace he could provide. Ranna knew all about Lord Kaligan's ferocity, and even if the boy had been all he was cracked up to be, the odds remained stacked against them.

  They followed in Hallow's footsteps and, before long, were confronted with the previously pirate-occupied cavern. Approaching an invisible barrier of vitality, alarm tones cried from their suits. The artificial atmosphere had dissipated, leaving the once oxygen-rich mines a desolate tomb.

  The hunters quickly activated their helmets, taking a deep breath as the oxygen flowed into their lungs like a gentle breeze.

  "Puncture in the AA?" asked El, examining the readouts on her environmental scanner. Until now, helmet use was optional, though exploring an alien landscape unprotected went against Ranna's better judgment.

  Though the causes remained a mystery, a malfunction in the artificial atmosphere was the only logical answer. Ranna was horrified at the torrent of icy dead, streaming towards the surface like a macabre waterfall. Their Magtech boots were the only thing preventing them from joining the rising Kahbohl graveyard. Chunks of loose rock peeled from the jagged cliffs that surrounded them. The volatile nature of the compromised mine produced an endless succession of violent tremors as the very fabric of the moon began to erode. The thunderous clap of the Banshee cannon drowned the tectonic crackling. Ranna clocked the silhouettes of the Goliath vessels above him and realized he had once again marched his crew into a quagmire of war.

  "He's insane," said Ranna, knowing that no man in his right mind would willingly stand against the might of a Naval Citadel. His thought had barely even formed before it morphed into a reckless endeavor, the kind that nurtured his infamy. He strode toward the spiral of corpses and, to his team's shock, disengaged the locks on his Magtech boots. His body began to float. He motioned the others to follow him, to which they hesitantly obliged, joining the river of decay headed toward the moon's surface. Snatching at the glimmer of opportunity without a second thought, Ranna had made his move.

  As their line of sight breached the surface, a waltz of cosmic violence confronted the hunters: titanic steel behemoths locked together in a struggle for supremacy. Ranna was frightened by what he saw. Alone, the mammoth scale of the interstellar constructions was enough to impress upon a man his insignificance. However, witnessing the vessels entwined by a dozen hooked cables weaved the illusion of a tentacled monstrosity, risen from the depths to devour its prey. Not since the calamity had a pirate initiated an attack on a Naval ship, and witnessing the Gallowmare take the upper hand was beyond comprehension. Whatever method Kaligan had employed to enhance his ship far surpassed anything his predecessors could muster. Underestimating the pirates had exposed the Navy as woefully unprepared.

  The Banshee's second attack had detached three of the Gallowmare's docking tubes, successfully puncturing Kaligan's previously impenetrable shields. Rivers of Shimmersene wept from her hull, submerging the pirates in an explosive mist that, if ignited, would reduce the entire moon to a fine powder.

  "There's our welcome mat," Ranna said, pointing toward the crackling tear in the Gallowmare's shield. With a wave over the wrist-mounted interface, the hunter's maglocked boots switched to a series of thrumming jets. Kicking off from the dusty surface, the Horizon crew sailed through the debris-laden atmosphere, praying to remain unseen.

  The adversarial titans of war continued their exchange of heavy artillery, polluting the hunter's path with the sizzling remnants of spent plasma.

  Struggling to adjust to avian navigation, Tugg sailed in a clumsy zig-zag, narrowly avoiding being slammed against what remained of the Gallowmare's shields. The Resonance field was hemorrhaging Shimmersene at close to critical levels, forming an archipelago of bloody orbs surrounding the vessel. As they entered through the ship's port side fissure, the combustible mist coated their charcoal suits with a crimson film.

  Upon landing, Ranna reengaged his Maglocks, bolting himself to the webbed metal flooring of the ship. He turned to check on his crew. El landed gracefully and smiled at her Captain, visibly excited by the battlefield excursion. Tugg, on the other hand, stumbled, tripping over himself and landing face-first at Ranna's feet. The Captain couldn't help but chuckle as Tugg grunted his way up, swatting away his Captain's offer of assistance. With a simultaneous nod, they headed toward what they hoped was the bridge, charging through the questionably constructed corridors.

  They advanced along the cramped throughways, passing steam-soaked weapon bays crowded with armored bodies. Ornamenting the over-muscled bodies of the pirates were layers of steel, rope, and bone; the conquest of untamed worlds fashioned into plates of primitive defense. Each pirate manned their station with unwavering devotion, attempting to repair the multiple hull breaches. Ranna saw a wild stream of exhilaration pouring from their souls, desperate to prove themselves and climb the chain of carnage that led to Kaligan's admiration.

  With the chaos of battle and defiant screams of adrenalin masking their footsteps, the Horizon crew infiltrated the Gallowmare in a procession of veiled footsteps and silent commands.

  After ascending a series of skeletal ladders and arriving at what they hoped was the ship's bow, progression halted before an immovable gate of rusted metal adorned with innumerable fractured restraints. The bridge gate was a testament to Kaligan's leadership, an homage to all those he had freed from imprisonment. During his crusade to free his pirate brothers from naval subjugation, the Gallowmare evolved utilizing materials scavenged from the ruined prisons Kaligan destroyed. Upon depletion of its inmate population, he commanded the structure demolished, its scrap collected and employed to reinforce his ship's hull. Over time, countless layers of Plastrite, brick, steel, and scrap were grafted to the once illustrious vessel, ushering the the avatar of shattered chains that was the Gallowmare. Seeing the results of Kaligan's conquests displayed so vaingloriously put Ranna on edge, his mask of confidence slipping.

  El's part in the production had arrived. She took charge of the situation, signaling the others to a narrow passageway to the left of the gate.

  "I'll go ahead and scout." She said confidently.

  "There's no way you're going alone," Ranna replied. With a solo mission likely to result in a prolonged and painful death, he knew the only chance of overpowering Kaligan was with combined strength. El paid no attention to her Captain's protests, looking down at the pulsating beacon strapped to her waist. She tapped the device twice, ensuring her backup was in place. Clicking the clamps on her neck, the helmet portion of her suit detached, leaving the suit to roll over her body like a fruit peel. The receding Nanofibers revealed a stealth-skin beneath, a technology that allowed her to indulge in her abilities while retaining her dignity. She stepped out of the boots, touching her bare feet to the floor; her skin turned a gunmetal grey, and ice crystals began to form on her exposed flesh.

  "Privacy?" She asked, motioning Ranna and Tugg to turn around. They both did as instructed, now feeling slightly embarrassed about their objections. She raised her hands to her face, covering her eyes and taking deep breaths. As she pulled her hands away and slid them over her body, her skin turned translucent, the cable-infested plating behind her becoming visible. Though they were familiar with the technique, El's ability was still a profound mystery to Tugg and Ranna, but as the motto advised, they pried not into matters outside their concern.

  Squeezing through a gap at the side of the gate, El snuck past her comrades and into the hazardous territory of Kaligan's bridge. Ranna and Tugg turned, only to glimpse the light reflecting off El's hair before she disappeared entirely. All they could do now was wait and hope. Having saved them from the jaws of death more times than Ranna could remember, putting his faith in El wasn't difficult. Whether Veng or Kaligan were the architects of his demise, it didn't matter. Both ended in him and his crew as corpses, and he was unwilling to surrender his life in such an unsavory manner. Now began the painstaking task of doing absolutely nothing as someone he cared for risked their life to save his once again.