The winds howl as the Teuton war bikes race past the main roads. Sidecars buckle as Tidak and Oliver make their way to the location. Having switched to winter clothes, the group thunders through the bone-chilling air around them. The rattling of the war bikes intensifies as Tidak moves off-road, its robust frame keeping the machine together.

  "We're getting close to where the ship is; Dromon said he would come and pick us up after." Tidak says. briefly looking at Astrid, conduit in her hand. In Oliver's sidecar sits Dori, who is strapped in as though she is about to explode from the seat with excitement, or, in this case, genuine fear for her mother.

  “Coming up on the crash site… By the Gods, look out!”

  Oliver veers off to the left, clutching the brakes as he makes a stop. Narrowly missing the jagged pieces of metal that poked up ominously ahead of them, like spears of the Abyss.

  Like his father before him, Oliver looks over at the young one next to his side.

  “Are you alright?”

  Oliver sighs in relief. A moment that is interrupted when Tidak comes over to him, hopping off her war bike and walking toward Oliver’s back on more stable ground.

  “Be careful when driving. This is your first time on a war bike?”

  “No, I drove these things in my time with the Imperial army. Carrying messages myself.”

  “Ah, there’s the problem. You are driving as if you were a lone messenger, rushing to get orders around while the comms are jammed.”

  Tidak unbuckles Dori.

  “You should get rid of that instinct. You are not a messenger anymore. Anyways, let’s continue on foot, according to drone footage, the area ahead is too steep for the bikes.”

  Oliver nods. Taking the lead, he raises his assault rifle and begins scanning the area, followed by Tidak and the two siblings.

  The marks of a violent crash are evident. Trees have been down in the dozens; those that weren't turned into splinters and debris bear many burn marks.

  As the group creeps forward, they can see more and more of the ship’s parts littered everywhere. Broken hatches and shattered pieces of hull plating, covered in snow and burn marks. Some still have live wires. The psychic energy from within arcing off the metal and cold tendrils that once served as their containment.

  Crates used for storage were smashed apart. Cargo containers large enough to hold months' worth of food and supplies for many towns and even small cities lay out there, nearly consumed by the ice and snow. As they got closer, however, it was clear that they were far from being damaged by natural causes. The doors leading into them were broken. Many of which had been shot open with bullets.

  Tidak got a good look at the insides of these containers. “Confirmed. There’s nothing here. The smell of food is still in here; someone must have come in and picked through it all.”

  “Black Host, I bet,” Oliver replies. He scans around, leading the siblings through some broken pieces of hull for cover. A few minutes later, he smiles.

  “Tidak, I got eyes on the ship.”

  Astrid and Dori immediately get closer to him. “How badly damaged is it?”

  Oliver reaches for a pair of advanced military binoculars, used by Imperial scouts.

  The device scans the wrecked vessel, showing him the interior and the sorry state of the electronics.

  “The hull looks fine; the only things out of commission are the power system and the engines. Wait. Get down.”

  The trio immediately got on their knees, “Black Host. About a dozen. Looks like we found the guys who picked this place clean.”

  He nods, digesting the information.

  “Hey, Tidak, looks like we're gonna have to fight our way through. The only way we are getting access to any data and clues is by accessing that ship’s systems.”

  “What do we do?” Astrid asks.

  “I can help.” Dori said, faintly. Her conduit flows with psychic energy.

  “Can't we just get as close as possible and rush them? Look, they aren’t even all in the same place. Gods, they aren't even looking around.” Astrid makes a good point. These raiders are novices, it seems.

  ‘That is good.’ Oliver thinks. New bloods are always easier to break than veterans.

  “That just might work… Tidak, I have an idea, taking Astrid’s suggestion into account.”

  “Shock assault tactics?”

  “Ja, like what we did in our time.”

  Tidak scooches over to the siblings. She put on her best face, the kind that one can expect from a grandmother reading a bedtime story.

  “Girls, I need you to listen to me. Dori, you stay down. Astrid, you are proficient in the use of those conduits. I need you to give us some cover fire.”

  “What’s cover fire?” Dori asks.

  “Ah… How should Granny put this? Oh.” She snaps her fingers.

  “Think of it like helping someone in an online game. Do you remember how you always used that grenade launcher while big sis surges forward? In your games?”

  “Ooh.” Dori gave a thumbs up. “You can count on us.”

  Tidak nods, patting Oliver on the shoulder.

  “Let’s go, stay low. We’re doing a shock assault. As for Dromon? Eh, forget it, looks like he isnt here yet. Let's start this off.”

  …

  The sounds of machines being dismantled and crates worth of stolen goods being pushed echo throughout the now cavernous space inside. Weapons are tucked away in one corner as the raiders pick through what the previous party hadn’t been able to take. Many of them groan in protest, kicking around random pieces of junk, the fury building inside of them. The previous party had already taken a lot of the good stuff.

  Now, all that was left for them was whatever wasn’t nailed down. Spent bullets roll across the floor, along with the random pieces of metal and decorations they had used for target practice.

  “We’re never gonna make big in this thing!”

  “This is all your fault; if you hadn’t been an idiot on the last raid, the boss wouldn’t have sent us here to plunder some scavenged hunk of junk!”

  “Oh, shut up! I wanna get out of here. Join in another raid! Get rich by plundering the good stuff!”

  One among their numbers, a raider with a bionic eye, hit his fellow raider in the back with the butt of her rifle.

  She snarls at him as the two glare at each other.

  “Shut up for five minutes and just take what you can!” She exclaims.

  “Unless you want Host Commander Brianah to punish you. Remember what happened to the last group of guys who complained about not getting rich?”

  “Yeah… Vented out into space.”

  “Or shot up by the guys.”

  Outside, things aren’t any better for the Raiders. Bottles pile up like an overdue basket of laundry. Intoxicated raiders start roaming around aimlessly, while their sober comrades try to break into the few remaining crates that remain.

  Suddenly, one of the drunk raiders stumbles forward, hunting rifle in hand. He shoulders his weapon and starts firing off shots, catching the others off guard as he tries to shoot a tree stump.

  “Hey! Get off our territory!” He yells, letting out a battle cry as he ate through an entire clip of ammo. Then comes laughter, as he points to the stump. The other scoffs or laughs; clearly, he thinks he is fighting a rival group.

  A loud gunshot is heard, and a booming thud comes shortly after. Those who were sobering up turn around and yell, “By the Gods, man. Dont waste your ammunition-”

  He stops as searing pain riddled his chest, blood gushing out like a fountain.

  A dozen tiny blades pierce his body at once. He gasps for air as he lies there. From the corner of his now bloodstained eye, he can see the corpse of his dead comrade.

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  ‘So that’s what happened. Dammit all, dammit all! I… I’ll kill you!’ He thinks to himself. Blood starts coming out of his mouth as he tries to reach his assault rifle.

  The sound of gunfire intensifies around him, the groans of his comrades echoing throughout the field. His eyes widen as he feels the force of the wind suddenly change, followed by the booming sound of metal ripped apart. Grenades.

  Raising his rifle, he opens fire, filling the sky and parts of the ground with rounds. An entire clip is spent, and still, the gunfire continued as his eyes closed shut. His soul leaves his body for good.

  Oliver and Tidak are making good progress. Oliver tosses another grenade from a fallen raider, killing a pair of drunkards stumbling amidst the ruined hall.

  The typical shock assault would involve multiple squads supported from range with half-tracks, tanks, artillery, or whatever was available at the time. Oliver is in a state of internal conflict.

  You should never perform a shock assault unless you have equal or more forces to help you in that regard. But Tidak surges forward.

  A trio of rounds burst from her rifle and found their new homes in the bodies of those rushing out of the ship. A second burst of fire cuts down another.

  Those who are drunk can barely put up a fight, stumbling and firing blindly, only to be taken out as they make a stand. The ones who are sober begin to return fire, shooting wildly as they hide behind whatever pieces of the ship they can find.

  “Die! Die! Die!”

  Tidak and Oliver dash like predators on the hunt. Eyes focusing, narrowly getting out of the field of fire, and getting into cover. Quickly, Oliver and Tidak start to return fire, bullets slamming againts the slabs of metal shielding their enemy.

  Tidak groans as she adjusts her posture; she groans in frustration. Tapping her back, as a warm feeling works its way up her spine.

  “Didn’t you take your medicine?” Oliver asks.

  Tidak nods, “I did, running’s a different matter. But I still got steam.”

  For a good few seconds, the two sides return fire. The rest of the raiders who weren't killed rush over, taking cover and adding their own firepower into the mix. One of them grins as he tries to rush them, only to get gunned down by Tidak.

  Just as the raiders are getting comfortable in their position, however, two stick-like objects are hurled towards them. One of the raiders squints his eyes before they land right behind them. His eyes widen as the realization gives way to pure terror.

  “Stick grenades! Get out!”

  The raiders scramble to get away. As the grenades explode, a wave of elemental pyro energy turns the slab of metal that shields them into slag, bubbling and hissing like a pot of fresh stew.

  Turning back, one of their own got caught in the explosion, dying nearly instantly.

  One by one, the remaining raiders are picked off, disoriented as they are assailed by enemies far off. Tidak and Oliver hold their fire.

  Astrid is doing their part; unlike their companions, they have no desire to kill anyone. Not least of all, since Dori insisted on it. Instead, the two agreed that there was one thing they could do that was equally as effective.

  Astrid summons alchemical projectiles, while Dori feeds more power to her conduit with her own. Thick sheets of metal, transmuted from the soil and material around them with alchemy, now fly toward their enemies. They hit like trucks, smashing against the shoulders, arms, and legs of their enemies. In some cases, pinning them to the ground, unable to move as pain set in. Groaning in pain as they are rendered harmless.

  “Wound them, they’re gonna get away!” Astrid exclaimed. Looking around, she begins to transmutate everything around her: rocks, large chunks of ice and snow, and the very metal of the ship.

  Dori tugs at her sister’s clothes.

  “Big sis, remember how we stopped that robber from getting away in his car a few years ago?”

  Astrid’s eyes widen, her mind washed over with memories as a smile set in.

  Dori begins feeding Astrid at full power. Both of their conduits are now working overtime as they continue to feed more material into them, changing them into something big.

  From a distance, their companions and the remaining raiders can only watch as a bright light begins to get stronger and, from that swirling maelstrom of alchemical energy, begins to form an object. It looked like a large chunk of metal, levitating in the air as the two elves got close to completing it.

  The hunk of metal got into position, the conduits guiding it toward the direction of the foe.

  Without a word, the raiders flee, running as fast as they can as they fire blindly at their backs, wasting ammunition. Hearts pounding, cold air invading their lungs as they try to flee through a hole in the ship, leading to the other side of it.

  Just as they are about to reach safety, however, the elven siblings hurl their massive projectile at the vessel. It traveled at such great speeds that the trees bent as it sped past. When it reaches the raiders, the projectile flies over them for a split second, and the cold wind it generates is enough to make them realize their plan is doomed.

  The object slams into the ground. The earth and snow rumble and crack as it lands, pieces of white and huge portions of ice are kicked up, followed by the loudest crashing sound they’d ever heard. Like the all-mighty roar of a mighty space drake and its pod.

  That huge chunk of metal looms over the raiders as they move away from it, blocking their only means of escaping this place.

  Shocked and full of fear, the raiders stumbled, letting out screams as though they’d been hit. Yelling and covering up imaginary wounds.

  “Hands up!” Oliver yells. The remaining brigands turn around to see him pointing his rifle at them, followed by Tidak doing the same.

  Tidak approaches slowly, her arms are steady, as she tries to hide the building tension in her muscles.

  Oliver’s eyes are full of anger, but they are young eyes. They spoke of a man experienced in war, but one who was never exposed to too much of it. His youth and vigor say as much.

  But Tidak is different; though the time of her youth has long since passed, her eyes and face told a different story. The wrinkles on her face were like a tapestry of stories from wars long ago. And despite her old age and growing pain, her body remained rigid, as unbreakable as stone, as she held her weapon on high. Eyes staring straight into their souls, like she would to an enemy long since gone. Just as she had done a thousand times before.

  The raiders lay down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. In a panic, one of them yells, “Dont shoot! We surrender, please dont shoot!”

  “What were you doing here?” Asks Tidak.

  “We were sent here by Host Commander Brianah. We… We were just following orders!”

  Astrid and Dori run up behind the pair. The eldest sister ground her teeth.

  “Where is my mother? She’s the one who operates this ship. Where did you take her?!”

  “We dont know, she got away before we got here.” Another raider says, “All we know is that she hijacked one of our ships!”

  Tidak tilts her head. “How? Where did she go?”

  “We dont know, all that we could figure out is that she managed to knock out the guards and hijack one of our supply ships.” The raider replies, “She made it off the planet and has taken the route toward the Teuton border. I swear!”

  The news is a mixed bag. On the one hand, the siblings can now put some of their fears to rest: their mother is still alive. Or at least not in the hands of the Black Host. But on the other hand, it seems like she is no longer on this planet. As the raiders look up at their captors, the distinct sound of a ship echoes through the woods.

  Tidak looks up and smiles as Dromon hovers the ship above them. Just behind him are a group of Teuton soldiers, pushing their way through the dense foliage and running toward the scene.

  “Mama…” Dori says, solemnly. Seeing this, Astrid grabs one of the raiders by the neck, letting her conduit hover over him menacingly.

  “How long ago did she leave?”

  The woman shakes, trying to break free.

  “She… She left some time ago! She’s probably well beyond this planet now. That’s all we know from our guys up in space!”

  Astrid’s anger grows. She wants to beat the life out of all of them. As far as she is concerned, these are the guys who tried to kill them on multiple occasions. The same people who shot down her mother’s ship, the group that almost shot them down in a well-coordinated attack, and the same ones who had gone out of their way to harm innocents.

  And yet, despite all that they have been through so far, this is all she was getting out of them.

  “Dori, cover your eyes and turn around.”

  As her little sister follows her command, Astrid’s conduit began to glow once more. Projectiles, this time transmutated from the weapons and clothes of their enemies, begin to form. One hit to the neck or head was all it would take.

  But before she can do anything, Tidak places a hand on her shoulder. She turns back and sees a face she thought she wouldn't see directed toward her.

  A cold stare, one with soul and purpose beneath the cold exterior. She’s only seen this stare when she is about to bring the pain, usually as a warning to those who would make things far worse than they need to be.

  A part of Astrid’s soul fades, like Tidak ran a knife through her. Then she looks back at the terrified look of the raider, tears flowing down her face as she looks around, desperate to free herself from Astrid’s grip. Barely able to breathe in his panic. Even his companions can’t help but stare, feeling for the first time what snake prey feels like, as they stare into oblivion’s maw.

  A maw in the form of the Elf and her conduit.

  Astrid wants to take it all out, right here, right now. It feels like her teeth are going to crack under the sheer force of her jaws. Slowly, she let her grip go, allowing the raider to slump to the ground, breathing heavily, like she was trapped miles below the sea.

  Tidak’s gambit has worked. Though her de facto grandchildren may act tough, there is nothing her sheer force of personality couldn't fix before it happened.

  Suddenly, Tidak is embraced by Astrid. Moisture is building in her eyes and soaking her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Tidak returns the hug, whispering into the ear of the weeping elf.

  “Dont worry, we’ll find her. I promise you that.”