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A billboard on the wall asked passing citizens if they had what it took to be the best, and suggested the Marine Corps was the place for those who did. A holo in a shop window told watchers to 'do their part' and join the Army Volunteers. Adverts attached to newsfeeds were streamed to datapads, reminding everyone that Starfleet wanted men and women to crew its starships. Icara was a changed world. In two short years it had been consumed by a quiet panic, made all the more alarming by its covert nature. Everyone was afraid of what the future might bring, and with every passing day the hope that it might blow over became ever more distant. "Cheer up," said Frost whilst admiring the window dressing of a cake store. "It'll all turn out alright in the end." Chloe Johansson glanced across at the Nightsider walking beside her, trying to decide whether his optimism was genuine or not. It was always so hard to tell; Frost was a master of the puppy-dog look. "Still," he went on, "there's an upside to this. Kyyreni adulthood is now recognised as seventeen. Age of maturity has gone down to fifteen along with it; fifteen to drink, to vote, to legally consent to sex. Shame it took a war to get that to happen." "I'm glad they didn't lower it further!" Chloe replied emphatically, "Vaahn's already down at the recruitment station every other week trying to get them to take him on!" Frost nodded in understanding. "He wants to do his part. It's hard for him; he cannot act through High Law because the Dawn does not recognise his station. The smaller factions do, but he is just one voice, a man screaming in a gale. I suppose I can't blame him for wanting to take a practical approach to ending the conflict." "Well I can!" Vaahn's mother replied. Her arms would have folded, had her hands been free. The two of them passed into the city centre mall. It was an enclosed area, and the glass frontage declared that the area beyond was approved for Penitatas. As soon as they stepped inside they were both greeted by a pained wail from somewhere ahead. It was the sound of a Penitatas in distress, and they paused to judge whether the voice belonged to a child they knew. "How has Ban been lately?" Chloe asked as they resumed walking. Frost smiled at the mention of his son. "I'm very proud of him. Despite everything, he doesn't want to be sent to another family. I've tried to speak with the Council and see if they'll let us take him for another cycle." "That doesn't happen often." "No, it doesn't." Frost said with some disappointment.

The ornamental fountain had holographic fish in it. Vaahn had been told they were holograms by his original parents and had always wanted to know why they didn't use real ones. Ten years ago, give or take, displays had been put up near the fountain to allow businesses to advertise their wares. Currently, a public service announcement warning people to keep their belongings safe was vying for attention against the latest must-have women's fragrance. Vaahn laughed humourlessly at the offer. "Christmas sales in October? Did they move the holiday forward and not tell us?" "I'd rather they move it back." Ban replied, not lifting his gaze from the foam cup in his hand. "I know your pain," Vaahn said with some sympathy. "Somehow I never seemed to manage to get on the 'Nice' list..." Ban raised his cup, partly to drink but mainly so he didn't have to talk. The relationship between the two boys had never been that strong, but in the past few years their relationship had steadily declined. Vaahn suspected Ban was jealous of the freedom that parole granted him. Ban, as ever, kept his true feelings to himself. For the sake of conversation, the Completas tried a new tactic. "Looking forward to a fresh start with a new family?" "No," said Ban. Vaahn gave a little chuckle. "So, Frost and Yuin finally grew on you, did they?" Ban drank his coffee. "I understand why," Vaahn continued, toasting the statement with his own cup. "Not many Penitatas parents would allow their son to drink alcohol, let alone caffeine." "Guess so," Ban responded. The young Noble rolled his eyes and set the cup down on the table a little too hard. "Alright, what is your problem with me this time? You've turned into a complete arsehole ever since I made parole. The least you could do is tell me why." Ban's mouth slipped into a familiar angry scowl, but he checked himself before replying; being a Penitatas had at least taught him to think before speaking. "You've talked about that Noble House of yours for years. Funny how you recruit a whore yet I don't even get asked!" "What? You mean Aki?" Realisation dawned. "You wanted to be part of my House?" Ban gave a single, snappish nod. "I wanted to make something of myself for once. Is that so terrible?" "Ban, I didn't ask you because you're a Penitatas. It's not that I don't want you in my House." "You are a Penitatas! So is Aki!" Ban snapped, losing his patience and his temper. "Aki was paroled last year, and I've been technically free for two. The reason I didn't ask you is that you'll be a Penitatas for at least twenty years yet. That's why I didn't ask; the moment you hit parole, I'll offer you a job. Deal?" To Vaahn's surprise, Tears appeared in the corners of Ban's eyes. He wiped them away quickly with his sleeve. "Deal!" he answered, flashing a rare smile that he quickly concealed behind his cup once more.

Frost and Chloe returned and announced it was time for Ban to come home. Vaahn, a veteran of three decades 'P time', knew the tone of voice when he heard it; Ban was due an unearned punishment. That was certainly not something he would miss. "Coming home with me?" Chloe asked her son. Vaahn shook his head and drained his cup. "I'm meeting Aki here. She says there's a business venture we need to look at. I'll ask her parents to give me a lift home, or wring one out of Wodka if all else fails." "Alright... stay safe, Vaahn." Chloe's last words left the boy puzzled, but he soon shook it off. He ordered another coffee and sat down to wait. Halfway through the cup he caught sight of the unlikely couple; the stick-thin, pale and wilting form of Aki's father, ever contrasted by his tall, dark and rotund wife. Aki walked along with them, trying to pretend she wasn't. To Vaahn's surprise there was another member of their group; a Human girl of about seven. "Who's this?" Vaahn asked when Aki and family arrived. "My name is Jill," said Jill. Her voice was oddly toned; the accent was indeterminate, and there was something a fraction off about the pacing of her words. Vaahn glanced down at her hands on automatic and found an explanation. "Ah, you're an automaton." "That is correct," Jill said. She clearly wasn't a high-value model; there was no life in her words. Everything was a statement of fact, with almost no modulation in tone. Aki, for once, was not radiating manic glee. "It's great having her round; it's such a pleasure to be living with a walking toaster." "Aki!" Her mother scolded sharply. "Jill is here as part of our re-evaluation and you will respect her!" "Our parenting licence expires in two weeks," her father added, somewhat meekly. "Jill was provided to assess us." "I see," Vaahn said absently. He hadn't taken his gaze off the girl. Jill seemed to notice this. She turned her dull, dead eyes to him and said in that flat voice of hers, "Do you have a problem with androids?" "I lost a lot of good men to your kind," Vaahn growled. The girl's pupils began to expand and contract rapidly; a sign that data was being processed. "I do not understand," she said after a few moments. "Please clarify." Vaahn chose not to do so. "Aki, what's this job you mentioned?" Glad to have the subject changed, Aki regained some of her usual excitability. "A man named Thornton was looking for men with experience on ship. What with all the trouble out there, I guess most people are losing their nerve. He'll pay us well." "I won't say no to being back up in the void," Vaahn replied. At this point, Aki's father stepped in. "You told us you'd turned that man down!" "I lied," Aki said dismissively. "I belong in the void, dad, and I'm going whether you to like it or not." "Oh no you are not!" Her mother announced, visibly rising as she entered full-blown Parenting Mode. "You are not yet old enough to make your own choices, whether you think you are or not! Until those 'C's come off your hands you will do as we say!" Aki looked at her mother. Aki looked at her father. Aki looked at Vaahn. Then he she raised two fingers to her parents and spat, "Fuck you!"

Her father stepped forward and grabbed her by the ear, intending to drag her to a punishment zone as he would a girl half her age. Aki had other plans. She swung hard and connected a ringing slap across his face, the shock of which made him let go of her. He staggered back; hand raised to his cheek, and stared open mouthed at his daughter. "You hit me!" he cried out. Aki seemed as shocked as he was. Then she shook it off and hit him with the other side of her hand for good measure. He backed off a way, more surprised than hurt, but it had the reaction she wanted. "My mind's made up!" the girl announced less confidently than she'd intended. "I'm doing this whether you want me to or not!" She turned to leave, but Jill's hand closed on her arm. "Ma'am, I cannot allow you to do this. Assaulting your parents is a violation of parole." "Get off me!" Aki shrieked, but the girl's grip was inescapable. Aki could just about make the android stagger, but there was no getting her off. "You are required by law to-" Jill toppled to the ground as Vaahn slammed into her. She let go of Aki as she fell, focused now entirely on self preservation. The android tried to grapple its attacker, but Vaahn scrambled to his feet and got clear of her flailing limbs. He rushed the machine again as it rose, slamming it backward and connecting hard with a support pillar. Jill seemed unphased by the impact, but it gave Vaahn the chance he needed to get purchase and haul her off her feet. "Stop!" the android girl commanded, suddenly discovering how to add force to her voice. "This is an illegal assault!" Vaahn replied with a snappish, "Fuck off!" and hurled the android into the ornamental fountain. He looked around, noting how the entire coffee shop had stopped to watch the display. "Pay my bill, would you?" he said flippantly as he glanced at Aki's parents. A warm hand closed around his, and Aki grinned with manic glee. "I Knew I kept you around for a reason! Come on; let's get the fuck away from here!"

For the rest of the afternoon, the Rough House repeated the tale of their daring escape over and over. Aki didn't get involved until the sixth or seventh telling, by which time they'd fought off police with stolen knives and cut a bloody swathe through the town. Aki made sure to include a part about setting a car on fire, on the grounds that no good story is complete without arson. Vaahn wasn't interested in the tales. He was sat with the Dayside Arbiter, Hakrim, and studied the documents that had been provided. They were fascinating things, akin to the raiding charters the Kyyreni used to sanction piratical attacks on others. He picked up the covering page and read the title once more. In block capitals, the words LETTERS OF SANCTION FOR THE EMPLOY OF PRIVATEERS provided the header. He rather liked the irony of Starfleet, an organisation that decried him a pirate, relying on pirates to help them fight their war. As he read the documents, a Human hand reached over and took his glass. The owner of the hand happily drank most of the contents and placed it back near empty. "Tell me, what that stunt of yours in the mall supposed to prove you are viscious cut-throats?" Vaahn met Captain Thornton gaze, taking in his eyes. They were vivid blue and usually mistaken for grey unless you looked closely. The left eye spoke of many hard years lived in the void. The right was glassy, like that of the android he'd encountered not long ago. "It wasn't meant to prove anything. Aki had a disagreement with her parents, and I took issue with her being assaulted by a damned automaton." "I have three on my ship, plus augmented crew. Will this be an issue?" Vaahn shook his head. "As long as they leave me be, I'll leave them be." He handed his glass to Vicky as she passed. "Same again, please." Thornton sat back in his chair, seemingly content with Vaahn's answer. He watched as Aki orbited one last table and told her tale one last time before joining them. "I'm guessing you would like to get off-world before anyone comes filing charges. That won't be a problem; I've had to run a few ports in my time. The ship's prepped and we can crash-start with a quarter-hour warning. Say the word, Vaahn, and we'll be gone." Before Vaahn could reply, a shrill sound demanded his attention. He plucked his personal communicator from his pocket and excused himself, taking the call in the toilets where it was quieter. "Vaahn, there's a police officer here saying you were involved in an assault in the mall! What's happened? Where are you?" The Kyyreni boy's first instinct was to snap a defensive reply off at his father, but it died in his throat. "Dad... put Jas on." "Jas? Jas can wait, Vaahn!" That was Chloe, her voice slightly muffled due to being stood further away from the holophone's receiver. "What on Earth do you think you're doing attacking a training android? You will come home right now!" "Mom, please, I don't want to fight with you right now..." His parents must have caught the tone of his voice, hearing anxiety and urgency where they would have expected anger. "What's happened?" Matt asked. "Talk to us, we can help you." The boy's throat was suddenly dry. "Please just get Jas. I need to speak to him. I didn't... I didn't want it to happen this way." "I'm here." came a tentative reply. The sound of the Aspatrian's voice made tears well behind Vaahn's eyes. "We're all here, Vaahn." Chloe added. "What's happened to you? Where are you?" "I can't tell you," Vaahn replied, the words stabbing him in the chest. "I'm going to be gone a long time, and I might not come back at all. If I don't come back..." He pressed the communicator to his chest and took a moment to steady himself. His mother's frightened questions, muffled by his shirt, went unanswered for some time. At last, Vaahn found the will to carry on and returned the device to his head. "Just know I'm doing what must be done. I won't lie; I'll be in danger, but I've been in danger before. I promise I'll come home, and I'll explain everything when I do." There were muffled words; Chloe's voice, indecipherable but clearly distraught, drifted into his ear. Matt comforted his husband whilst Jas took over. "How long will you be gone?" "Six months, maybe a year." The words dropped leaden weights into Vaahn's gut. "I will come back for you, Jas. That's a promise. I have to go now." Matt was about to say something else, but Vaahn cut him off. The phone rang again almost immediately, but Vaahn left it ringing on the edge of the sink. By the time someone thought to turn it in to the bar, Vaahn was already aboard a ship and heading out of system.

* * *

New Town was a product of Yvenik's industrial age, and was known primarily for taking the city's already cramped layout and making it outright claustrophobic. Tall, thick-walled buildings huddled so close together that many streets never saw the sky. Bar the occasional long jump, it was almost possible to walk from the Setting Gate to the docklands via the rooftops. Many did. Mostly it was a past-time of the young and the reckless; falling was a hazard, but the roof gangs were far more dangerous. That night, the rooftops were going to be made that little bit safer. "Watch your step here, Warren." Yurgan said with a grin. He offered a hand toward the Human, who took it without comment. The tiles were wet and mossy and Korgan had already had a near miss. The fifteen year old desperately wanted to get down, but not that quickly. "Remind me why I'm here," he muttered, pressing his back to a brickwork chimney and squatting down, taking comfort in the hard surface. Korgan was scanning the rooftops to the north. He didn't turn when he spoke. "You're here because Rehd liked you, and because we were Tempered together." "I'd rather forget all that," the boy replied with a sulky tone. A third Kyyreni scrambled across the damp tiles and into the shadow of the chimney. His name was Brahlt. He was named for Jasat's grandfather, despite being of no relation to the king or his line. He was the son of a Vassal girl and an unknown male whore; a pedigree that suited his bastard personality. "Is he crying again?" he asked the King's sons, though he turned on Warren without waiting for the answer. "Poor little Warren, stamping his feet! Crying for his mother's teat!" The brothers turned at the teasing rhyme, and to their surprise they found Warren staring down the cocksure young man. "If you want me to kick you off this roof, carry on as you are." "Take the fucking hint," Yurgan cut in just as Brahlt opened his mouth to speak. "Warren came of his own volition. That is to be respected." The young man's tone would brook no argument. Brahlt instead made a point of checking his weapons. "Are we sure this is the gang who jumped Rehd?" "We are," Korgan confirmed, returning his gaze to the rooftops. "The other gangs know better than to take on a Royal House."

The hunting party moved on, reaching the larger industrial buildings and climbing to their upper floors via corroding drain pipes or convenient handholds left by fallen bricks. They entered via a window and took up positions in the cramped room. The walls and floor were sooty black and the staircase up had collapsed long ago. In its place were wooden boards, crudely hammered in from below. Despite the derelict state of the room there were clear signs of life; roof gangs had taken the place as their own. Warren and the others spread out, each taking a window and watching for signs of life. Korgan found some almost immediately. "Here!" he called out, dropping low and pressing himself against the wall. All four of them moved to the north window and toward the old shrine that marked the end of the New Town and the start of the Old Fort. No trace of any fort remained now, having long since been consumed by the village that it once protected, which was in turn absorbed into the growing city. As they watched a flicker of light appeared in the shrine's upper tower, then vanished again after a second. It reappeared again on and off; sometimes for a second, sometimes three. "That's a Dayback signal." Korgan purred, letting his hand drift to the pistol at his hip. Brahlt began to search for any others. "Who are they calling?" "Us." The word barely got passed Warren's lips. The Kyyreni turned toward him and the cause of his distress. They couldn't see what Warren had spotted, but they could just make out the tiny pin-points of heat on the tiles left by footfalls of travellers. Even as they watched the heat difference dropped below beyond their range of perception. That meant whoever left the footprints had done so less than a minute ago. "Get low," Yurgan ordered, moving slowly and carefully to reposition himself. The building was warm thanks to heat bleeding up from the floor below, ensuring there was little in the way of thermal evidence to warn the approaching thugs of an ambush. The gangers came up from the west, climbing the walls as quickly and quietly as they could manage. Brahlt was waiting for them; he grabbed the first by the collar and hurled him across the room to the waiting Yurgan, who pinned the man down with a blade to the throat. The second ganger dropped back down to the tiles, but Brahlt had no intention of letting him escape. He rose to the window and drew a pistol, sighting the fleeing figure below and putting a single shot through the young woman's hip. She went down hard and rolled down the wet roof, arms and legs flailing wildly, until she dropped down the gap between buildings and was lost to sight. There was a final thud from ground level, and then nothing. "You know who we are, friend?" Yurgan growled with his muzzle an inch from that of his captive. The young ganger tried to nod, but the knife at his throat made that difficult. "You're the kid's lad!" "We're friends of Rehd; the man your gang stabbed in cold blood for the sake of eight Tathl." Korgan said calmly, returning his gaze to the north. "Tell me, Vas, who was it that killed our friend?" "H-how d'you know my name?" The question was answered with an increase of pressure against his throat. "Answer my brother!" Yurgan spat. "O-Ozkr! It was Ozkr!" "And where do we find him?" Korgan's questions remained calm, but firm. The youth turned his gaze toward the younger of Jasat's sons. "Down by the docks. Look, I won't tell anyone you were-" "That's right!" Yurgan snapped, bringing the blade sharply across the youth's throat. "You won't tell anyone anything!"

Warren watched the whole thing in silence with his stomach in knots. He was curled up in the corner as though trying to become invisible from his friends and enemies alike. Korgan met his gaze and came over, squatting down next to the shaken slave and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Having second thoughts?" Wide-eyed and chewing his bottom lip, Warren looked at Korgan and answered, "Second thoughts were a long time ago. I'm on fifth or sixth now." The Kyyreni boy smiled. "Well, you can crack jokes, so that's a good sign. Look, even if you want to go home it's too dangerous; the gangers will be prowling. Stay with us, keep alert, and keep your weapon to hand. We'll kill that bastard and be home before moon-up." They were about to move on again when the sound of turbine engines filled the air. Brahlt saw the source and swore at the top of his lungs. "Enforcer gunships; there will be foot patrols nearby," Korgan pointed south. "Let's get clear. The last thing we need is to be caught when they start a blitz!" Unfortunately for the boys, the blitz started there and then. Yurgan saw the stun-grenade spiral up through the window, and before he could cry out a sudden surge of light, heat and noise washed over them. Warren was slumped against the wall, eyes screwed shut and crying out in shock. He couldn't hear his own voice, just a painful ringing in his ears. He tried to get upright, but the best he could manage was a half-crouch, using the wall as a prop. He'd never thought of himself as a warrior. He'd fought practice matches in duel rings and he'd trained with the other boys at Rehd's behest, but he'd never felt like he belonged. He was the weakest of the lot, lacking in the skills and the raw killer instinct. He could play at killer, but he couldn't make the kill. And yet, something made him go for his knife. Something told him that the attackers would come from the window. Something made him swing. He felt the floor below him shake as, unseen by him or his companions, the Enforcers blew out the boards over the old stairwell. By then he was already rising, turning, he swung his knife in a two-handed grip toward the window he'd stood next to. The blade connected with something hard, deflected up, and then met something much softer. A muted howl of pain drifted into Warren's ruined ears, and his eyes slowly began to focus on a blurred, vaguely humanoid shape. Warm, viscous liquid began to dribble down his hands, but in the shock of the moment he didn't register it. He twisted the blade and pulled it free. Half a second later, an Enforcer coming in the opposite window but two bullets through his abdomen, and he blacked out when his head connected with the window frame.

He had not expected to wake up in a hospital bed; he had not expected to wake up at all. There was just enough time to sit up and look toward the door before the pain slammed him back down. His lower body was on fire. The sudden agony churned his guts and made him want to throw up. His mouth stretched open in a soundless cry and he froze in that position for a good five or six seconds before the pain dulled to something he could cope with. Only then did he open his eyes once more. This time, Korgan was there. "Risik must like you," he chuckled, gently placing a hand on Warren's shoulder. "What happened?" Warren asked. His voice came out weak and groggy. "The Enforcers happened," Yurgan said from somewhere out of sight. Warren turned his head to find the king's son sat on the edge of the next bed, stripped down and clutching a large bowl in his lap. He looked and sounded hung over, and was Warren watched the young man convulsed, puffed his cheeks like a man about to vomit, and swallowed back the bile with a grimace. Korgan chuckled at his older brother's discomfort. "They expected to find gangers. After they shot you they grabbed Yurgan there. He fought back so they cracked him over the head. I had the brains to tell them who I was; after they confirmed our identities, they brought us home." Warren's right hand closed around a knife handle that was no longer there. "What happens to us now?" "Well, we're expecting father to turn up any minute. While you two were out he gave me one hell of a speech about how I'm an embarrassment to the house and so on. No doubt he wants to give you the same." Yurgan gave another pained moan and dropped his head low to the bowl. "Fuck that!" he moaned.

Jasat arrived in due course, physically dragging Brahlt behind him. To say he was not best pleased did no justice to just how furious he was. By rights, anything flammable within twenty feet of the king should have spontaneously combusted under the sheer heat of his rage. Korgan had not done the 'speech' justice; Jasat roared his disgust for his son's actions at the top of his lungs. Korgan backed away and cowered between the occupied medical beds. Brahlt, tossed loose to stand with the guilty party, flinched and dropped his eyes to the floor, where they stayed throughout. Yurgan tried not to listen and focused on not throwing up. In his state, he couldn't do either. Unheeded by the others, Warren just closed his eyes and let everything happen around him. At last, the abuse wound down to a volume lower than the flash-bang they'd been hit with earlier. "Just tell me why!" Jasat snapped at his sons. "What in Kalkar's name possessed you to go out murdering Enforcers?" "We didn't!" Yurgan yelped, "We killed a ganger, maybe two, but that's it!" Korgan glanced at his brother and quickly corrected him. "Warren stabbed one of the Enforcers in the throat. That's why they shot him." With all eyes on him, Warren chose to just lie still and play dead. The pause went on too long for Korgan's liking and so, still shaken by his father's onslaught, he tried his best to clarify. "We wanted to find Ozkr; the Dayback who killed Rehd. We got his name from one of the thugs before the Enforcers showed up." "The last thing I need is my sons playing vigilante!" Jasat shot back. He was growling now; a constant, predatory growl like that of a wolf that had cornered its prey. "The Enforcers will find the ones responsible, and they will pay dearly for their crimes against our house. Your actions are not required, nor welcomed!" Slowly, far too slowly as far as his sons were concerned, Jasat began to return to a calmer state. "Brahlt!" he barked, finally causing the boy to raise his head. "When you step-father learns of this, I can guarantee he will tan your hide. For your sake, he'd better learn of it from you, not me!" The boy took the hint and bolted for the door, nearly crashing into Ank as he did so. The bodyguard allowed himself into the room and idled by the door, not getting involved. The King of the Dawn turned upon his sons. Korgan had found enough courage to at least stop cowering and Yurgan had raised his head from the bowl. He looked each of them in the eye, scrutinising their expressions for any further clues as to their motives. All he saw were two boys conflicted by a desire for vengeance, and fear of disgracing their family line. That made him smile, though there was little warmth in the gesture. "I think you two have spent far too long roaming these city streets. At your age my father was out in the stars, raiding alien worlds and earning glory for this House. I'm starting to think you should do the same." Yurgan sat gawping at his father, leaving Korgan to do the speaking. "You're sending us on a ship? Does that mean we'll see action?" "Possibly," Jasat replied. "There's a ship bound for the front in less than a week. I can't guarantee you'll see combat, but if nothing else a few months learning how to conduct yourself on a ship of war should hopefully knock some sense into your thick skulls!"

Jasat left the boys to ponder his words. Both seemed eager to see action, though due to Yurgan's state his excitement was far less clear. Finally feeling brave enough to dispatch with the bowl, and wanting to be gone before the House doctor could say otherwise, he began to dress himself. As he pulled on his pants, a thought struck him. "Hey Korgan, how did you know that kid's name was Vas?" "They used the old Navy Lantern Code," Korgan replied, grinning with pride at his own cleverness. "The message they were sending was 'Vas - Return'. They were waiting for him to confirm he was in the tower." Yurgan gave a single, huffing laugh. "Nice. You always were the smart one." Korgan's smile took a pained aspect as he turned from his brother to Warren. "Not so smart, I fear. I'm sorry, Warren." "I'll live," the slave replied in the tone of a dying man. "Just do me a favour; leave me out of your next adventure." Ank, who had not left with his lord, shook his head. "I wouldn't stay here, Warren. Go with them." "But why?" "Because Jasat will kill you if he stays," the tone of the man's voice suggested a literal meaning to his words. "He'll make a scapegoat of you to take the fall for all four of you. Go with the boys; I'll get Brahlt in too, just to be safe. By the time you return this should all have blown over."

* * *

The Red Queen was eerily familiar to Vaahn. It had an air of old glory about her, and although still formidable in her own right, she was past her prime. She felt like home, though it took him some time to truly understand why. The new crew had come aboard via a shuttle into the launch bay that clung to the keel like a remora on a shark's belly. From there they had been taken to quarters in the midship, which turned out to be little more than beds recessed into alcoves along the corridor. Most of their working hours kept them moving from these two points; Aki ran flight prep exercises, orientation programs and VR simulations on the various craft in the bay, whilst Vaahn and the other marines used the adjacent storage space for combat training. Downtime allowed them to explore the ship, which was an undertaking ill suited to the claustrophobic. The corridors were tight and broken up by airlock doors, making the ship feel like an ancient submarine. The only recreational space was in the aft section above the main engines; a gym with blast-shuttered windows that, when opened, gave a view of the stars. Whilst sat on cold metal bench at a cold metal table in the mess hall, five days out of Icara, Vaahn finally realised why the ship was so familiar; it reminded him of the Wraithblade. Both ships were cramped, cold and lacking in comfort, yet possessed of a special kind of purity. They were the descendents of the sword; tools built purely for the kill, nothing more.

His first sighting of the android crew came when he was called to the bridge three weeks out of port. A male automaton sat at the helm. Its skin was removed, or perhaps skin had never been provided at all. Captain Thornton was sat in his chair surrounded by display screens. "Have a look at this, Vaahn," he said without looking up, beckoning the Kyyreni over with a finger. "We've sighted or first mark." Vaahn took a moment to study the screen. It was a long-range visual of a Kyyreni ship, haloed by data feeds that recompiled and updated themselves as the sensors acquired further information. With absolute certainty Vaahn said, "It's a Bandit class. Most of the ship will be engines; there's never much in the way of shields or firepower on those things. Crew compliment is probably twenty or thirty if she's raiding, but she can run with just two or three aboard if they're built right and the crew's well trained." An approving chuckle passed the captain's lips. "I knew I'd like having you aboard. Helm, bring us about on an intercept. Inform the gun-captain I want torpedoes ready and gauss cannons on standby. This one's not worth taking; we'll blast her out of the sky and move on." The kill was unremarkable. An hour-long approach followed by a single volley of the main gauss battery. The Bandit split in two down the middle, her drives spiralling off in opposite directions and spilling fuel and atmosphere in their wake. No distress beacons activated, nor were any signals given. Her crew were dead before they knew they were under attack.

Two days after the kill, Aki introduced Vaahn to the second android aboard ship. It lived in a little room on the port side of the vessel; a cramped one-bed cabin with its own basic wash facilities. Aside from a bed and a small storage chest, there was no other furniture. "It's the ship's whore!" Aki laughed as she admired the machine in question. Its features were androgynous, though it was clearly a well-built model. "Fuck that," Vaahn growled, which only served to amuse Aki even more. "That's the idea! He's really good too!" "He?" Aki grinned and nodded. "If you like, though it can be a she instead if you prefer. I might just try her as a woman just to see how it compares."

The third android was found that evening. The ship was on its night cycle, and Vaahn had drawn a turn on watch. Captain Thornton was the only other living thing on the bridge, though Vaahn did not realise it at first. When the Kyyreni Noble arrived he found a young boy of seven sat on Thornton's knee, admiring the views presented on the myriad of screens around the command chair. "Wasn't aware we had civilians aboard," Vaahn said idly as he took an empty chair at the operations station. Thornton acknowledged Vaahn's arrival with a short nod. "I hear your spitfire lass has been getting to know the Companion." Still irritated by the exchanged in question he replied, "Aki is not my 'spitfire lass', whatever that means. She's my pilot." The captain laughed off the reply and turned his attention to the boy on his lap. "Well, you've met two of our artificial humans, so let me introduce the third. Vaahn, meet Nick." "I don't think I want to know why you've got a personal android." It was Nick, not his father, who answered. "Clearly, you seem to think I'm some kind of sex toy. Has it occurred to you that I might just be a surrogate child? That's what I was built for, after all." "Nick was built for a family on Maribahl, modelled after their son. It was an unpleasant end, one I prefer not to dwell on. Nick here lived with the family for a decade before they decided it was time to move on, and I picked him up two months later." Vaahn looked from one to the other, still unsettled by just how real the boy was. He had not known many androids, but they'd all been, well, machines; obviously un-alive, either due to appearance or personality. Nick looked real, and talked back like a real boy to boot. "If you were made for a family, why did they get rid of you?" To Vaahn's surprise, Nick's reply was pained, like a real human reliving a bad memory. "I was made to help them cope with the death of their kindern. In the end, I stopped being a comfort and became painful for them to have around, so they found me a new home." "I think you should head back to the cabin. This is a working bridge, after all." "Yes daddy," Nick replied, seemingly playing up the innocence just to irritate Vaahn.

Dismissing his thoughts about the android, Vaahn focused on his station and almost missed the sensor blip. The automaton at the helm began an emotionless monologue, describing a copy of the data that had been fed into its systems at the same instant. "Helm, shut up!" Thornton snapped, rising from his chair and storming over to Vaahn's station. He peered at the screens as the blip returned and the system tried to make sense of the data. Both men came to the same conclusion at once. "Adjustment burn." The night shift officer entered the bridge and came over to see what the fuss was about. "What do you think, Mrs Yang?" the captain asked, making room for her. "I don't know, but it's about seventeen hours behind us. Could it be another Bandit keeping low?" Vaahn shook his head. "It's a warship. Look at the burn points; she's adjusting to intercept." "You're sure?" "Let me make a course correction and I'll prove it." "No need," Thornton replied, watching the screens. The ship was coasting into the shadow of an airless moon, but just before the planetoid blocked out their sensors there was one last, sharp spike; the energy flare of a ship altering course for the far side of the moon. Captain Thornton stood upright and walked with grim purpose back to the command chair. He turned as if to sit, but remained standing and instead drew an antique naval watch from his pocket. "Operations mark time. Let the ship's log show that as of oh-one-fifteen on the Fifth of November 2889, relative to ship's time, the Red Queen did commence hunting of an enemy warship, and did so under the colours of an Icaran warship. As of the mark, the ship is to commence battle running until further notice." Silence fell across the bridge, broken only by the ticking of the captain's watch. All eyes became fixed on the little brass timepiece. As the second hand ticked up and struck 1:15, Thornton snapped the little brass cover closed, and the android helmsman instantly brought the ship to battle running. Two short blasts of the ship's horn was followed by an automated announcement brought the rest of the crew up to speed. "Mrs Yang has the bridge," the captain announced as he headed for the door. "Keep our course until we're halfway round, then drop satellites and double back. Wake me if all hell breaks loose."

* * *

Yurgan sat and watched the moon below them go racing by on the screen. There was still no sign of the Icaran ship. They'd yet to get anything more than a vague hint on the edge of sensor range, making the king's son wonder if they were simply chasing a ghost. Korgan sat on the other side of the bridge, studying the incoming data feeds from the forward sensors. He'd adopted the same grim, head-down posture of the rest of the crew, speaking only when spoken to, or when there was something worthy of note. They called him 'Voidsider', and unlike his brother he seemed to welcome the title. "Contact ahead," Korgan announced, making a conscious effort to keep any emotion out of his voice. "Small object coming over the horizon. It's a satellite." The captain leaned forward in his chair. "Show me." The main screen lit up, revealing a tiny object on the edge of vision. The screen zoomed in sharply, confirming Korgan's guess beyond any doubt. The helmswoman looked up from her station. "Should we avoid it?" "No," the battle-scarred officer replied as he rose from his chair. "They'll have scanned us by now. Shoot it out of the sky. With a secondary gun, if you please." "This means they're close, yes?" Unlike his brother, Yurgan had no interest in hiding his excitement; the prospect of a fight had improved his mood immensely. To the young man's disappointment, the captain shook his head. "If they've any brains they'll have dropped several satellites to keep themselves out of danger. That way they can plan properly; either to engage on favourable terms, or flee." With a casual word into his headset an order was given to launch a scouting probe. Sure enough, the data came back with a contact; a second satellite beyond the next horizon. "Helm, calculate their course." The female on station glanced at her screen anxiously. "I... I already have, sir. We should have passed them by now." "And this is why you get half the shares of everyone else," her superior snapped back, shaking his head in dismay. "Let us assume that they dropped the nearest satellite, turned around and then dropped the second as they fled. If they did that, could you calculate their course?" The scolded Kyyreni woman turned back to her station, wordlessly cursing her superior as her fingers danced over the keys. "Done. Course calculated." The captain nodded, seemingly giving the data only a second's attention before issuing his orders. "Bring us on a bearing zero-nine-zero relative and punch the engines. Take us out over the planet's northern hemisphere and warn the torpedo room to stand ready. If we're lucky, we'll catch them as they bolt across the equator. "So does this mean they're running?" Yurgan asked, glancing back and forth between the various screens around him. The information was still alien; flight paths, attitude displays, passive scans, system reports and a thousand other things updated themselves in real time, yet he was oblivious as to how anyone could do anything useful with the data. The captain, by contrast, was acting as though he had inside information on the target. Based on all available information, the enemy most likely came about hard whilst in our blind spot. If they were a heavy ship like a dreadnought they'd have likely held course and raked us prow to aft in the first pass. The fact we're untouched tells us they were not certain of victory by default. The only other option would be to scatter or to attempt a Drunk Turo. The former requires an advantage in flat-out speed, and the latter still depends on an edge in firepower." "They could Ride the Rhyyr," Korgan put in, displaying another of his quickly-developed talents; correct use of obscure naval terms. The captain went to answer but paused, mouth open, before nodding to the still-sour helmswoman. "Why didn't they do that?" She turned to her commander and shrugged. "No decent exit vectors from a move like that. It'd lead to a dirty running skirmish with little hope of a confirmed tactical edge." A slight nod of the appraisal brought a thin smile back to the woman's face. "So, she can't be sure of a clean kill or clean escape in open void, and victory in a dirty scrap are more by luck than tactics. That leaves only one option; full-stop, hard about, and a full engine burn back the way they came. They'll pull back to the far side of the moon, dip into the planet's gravity well, and take a slingshot orbit to hurl them back out into open space with one hell of a speed advantage." Korgan nodded. It was not an act of agreement, but the sign of a pupil who wishes to show he has absorbed his teacher's lesson. "Could they not use this course to attack back as well?" "They could indeed. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of potential actions. Even if we assume standard, formulaic appraisals, they have a good dozen or more options open to them." The captain smiled at his young charges. "This is the beautiful nature of void combat, Royal Sires. It is played like a game of Reknlaati; the victor is the one who can predict and counter his enemy's moves before he makes them." Korgan gave a playful little laugh. "I was always good at that game." Yurgan sighed and turned back to the visual feed of the moon's surface, watching it speed past at ludicrous speed. He'd always hated Reknlaati.

* * *

For those aboard the starships, the battle played out slowly over many hours, yet where an outside viewer to condense the hours into the space of a few minutes, they would perhaps appreciate the desperate, close-quarter nature of the skirmish. Ships flew orbits around the world, hunting each other with recon-probes, whilst deploying pulse satellites to short out the spies of their enemy.

The Red Queen was tearing across the skies of the nameless world. Her engines glowed, haloed by blue fire as they were pushed to their limits. The sheer power of the drives bathed the nearby world with radiation, heating the upper atmosphere as it passed. Gas rose and pulled the cooler air below it upwards, creating boiling clouds of corrosive vapours that condensed as it met the freezing gas above. A storm front eight thousand miles long came into being; a maelstrom of lightning and acid rain that sought to chase the fleeing starship. At four twenty-seven ship time, Red Queen passed the equator. Thrusters along her underbelly fired in a carefully choreographed sequence, lifting the nose by the slightest of angles. By four forty-four, this tiny action had irrevocably altered the ship's trajectory. She was wide out, leaving her storm-wake behind to burn itself out below. The vessel reached the terminator, and the planet let her go. Somehow, her engines found more speed. They flared pure white; a discharge visible from the surface of the world, and Red Queen fled for the void. The Kyyreni ship surfaced, emerging from the southern continent. Its sensors caught sight of the Icaran privateers immediately, locking on to their impossible-to-miss engine discharge. The ship came about, moving fast but nowhere near fast enough to catch its prey. However, it did not need to catch them. She began her own burn, swinging out wider than her prey. Weapons fired; torpedoes were launched and energy cannons discharged their terrible energies into the aft section of the fleeing vessel. The shields held against the energy attacks, but less than a second later the solid projectiles found their mark and overwhelmed the grid.

Red Queen shut of her engines, letting inertia carry her onwards. She span about her axis to bring her guns to bear, channelling power to the laser batteries and loading armour penetrating shells into the gauss cannons. She fired moments before the second salvo hit home, and for a brief instant the vessel was gone, replaced by an oval of neon-blue light. It lasted for the blink of an eye, but its meaning was not lost on any who witnessed it. Time and again the ships traded blows. Shield grids were re-routed, detaching overloaded capacitors from the system and diverting any and all power to more vital systems. This was the brutal side of naval war; the minutes of carnage that followed the hours of quiet, careful planning. The Red Queen was dead, and the Kyyreni knew it. Her radiators glowed white hot on sensors, and even with the naked eye a watcher would be able to make out the burning orange forming on the edges of the plates. All along her hull maintenance hatches and access panels folded open, exposing the systems within to vacuum in a desperate attempt to vent more heat. It would take many minutes of fire to kill her yet, but her actions spoke of what was to come clear as day. She had burned too hard, diverting power from defence in the name of pure speed. Now, all she could do was stall for time and prey she was carried beyond the range of her enemies.

Captain Thornton was sat in his command chair, hands clenched to the arm rests so tightly his knuckles had turned white. At regular intervals the lights on the bridge would flicker and micro-vibrations pass through the deck, signalling another volley of enemy fire had struck home. "Status report on the starboard shields," he said through gritted teeth, keeping his emotions in check for the sake of the crew, who were all panicked by their increasingly desperate situation. Yang shook her head in dismay, blinking tears from her vision. "It's gone, captain, utterly non-responsive. We're running on three shields." "Two," a man named Connor corrected. "Aft shield is still resetting." "What if we force it back online?" "I can get you thirty, forty percent capacity at most, but there's a risk of another burnout. We'd have to keep it as our last line." "Then we have our last line," the captain replied firmly before turning his attention to the next matter. "Deck two-forward, this is the bridge. What's your status?" "Electrical fire in the laser cannons!" a panicked Drakonian replied, struggling to make himself heard over the pops and crackles that plagued the channel. "We're looking at five or six hull fractures here; one good hit and it's a full-on breach!" "I'll take that under advisement," Thornton growled, seething with rage at the hopelessness of the situation. He opened another channel and was bombarded with more bad news, and so on until he simply stopped listening altogether. Slowly, like a man rising to give a eulogy, Thornton stood up from his chair. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'll give it to you straight; we have, at best, ten minutes before they send us to kingdom come. As of now, I am giving one order - to divert every last drop of power left into what batteries are still functional and give them a final shot to remember. Before anyone asks, running is not an option: we couldn't get far enough in time at this juncture no matter what we did." "We don't need to run, and we don't need to die: we can surrender!" The suggestion came from Yang. "At least that way we'd survive!" Thornton shook his head. "Rule Britannia, Mrs Yang; we shall not be slaves. Better to die free." "Actually, captain, I think surrender is an excellent idea." Vaahn said in a tone of voice that hinted at a mind at work. "You have a plan?" "I have a hope; a way that might let us keep our ship, our lives and our freedom." the Kyyreni answered. "Open a channel, captain, while we still can." Thornton smiled at Vaahn, wagging his finger at the young man as his own mind quickly caught up. "You're going to use your station, 'Noble' Vaahn!" "Right," Vaahn confirmed. "Now please contact that ship!"

The channel was opened at once. "[This is Vaahn T'Rol, Noble of House T'Rol of Icara, recognised by the Independent Colonies and the Free Admiralty. We are a ship bound and operating under Raider Law, and by that law we issue our surrender. Cease your attack.]" No reply was forthcoming. Another volley smashed into the ship and collapsed the prow shields beyond any hope of recovery. The message was broadcast on repeat across all channels, and the bridge crew held their breath in the hope of a reply. Finally, a voice drifted through the speakers; a guttural, feral voice that was clearly unfamiliar with Panglish. "Vaahn of Tu'ri, is it? If that is true, I have some friends here who would dearly like to meet you." "And who might those friends be?" Vaahn asked, but the disembodied voice paid him no mind. "Halt your ship and prepare to be boarded." The link went dead. Vaahn turned toward Captain Thornton, and found himself on the receiving end of a very long, humourless stare. "You've bought us time, Noble, but I have to know something; do we have a hope in hell of winning the shit-storm of a fight that's about to happen?" Vaahn nodded. "We do if we don't play fair." The captain smiled wickedly. "I was rather hoping you'd say that! Alright, let's make ready to welcome our guests!"

* * *

Yurgan stood beside the airlock and tapped his foot impatiently. His mind was on fire; a hundred different thoughts bounced around inside his skull, merging and splitting and mutating with every passing moment. The largest and most vocal thought went as follows: Vaahn, my grandfather, is on that ship! "Pressure's good! Opening hatch!" the cry came from inside the boarding corridor; an extendible metal appendage used to produce an airtight steal on docking platforms or, in this case, other ships. As the hatch swung open, Yurgan risked a glance around the metal frame and watched the boarding team move in. He caught sight of Humans beyond the far hatch, each one stood with their arms away from their bodies and palms out to show they were unarmed. A hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him through. He staggered but recovered quickly, gripping his rifle in the manner of someone hell-bent on being a good soldier, or at least appearing to be one.

Fifth to board the Icaran vessel, Yurgan found himself pulled to the side as the Captain emerged. The Humans had arranged a welcoming party; three of them, unarmed, along with a large lizard and a Kyyreni male. The latter was the only one to be overtly armed, wearing a pair of pistols at his hips. His hands were placed to suggest that drawing them was indeed an option, and he retained this air of potential hostility despite the assault rifles trained on him. "You are the captain, I take it?" the Kyyreni asked. Captain Duro nodded. "You would be Vaahn. I doubt there's any other Kyyreni on board. "One other," Vaahn said casually, turning his head a fraction toward Yurgan, who realised he was staring. "I am here to welcome you aboard, and have orders to bring you to Captain Thornton to formalise the surrender." "Bring him here," Duro barked. "I have no intention of stomping through your miserable ship." Vaahn shrugged. "The Captain has been advised by our medic not to move. If you won't meet him, then this surrender is void. I'll give you ten minutes to pull your ship back to a safe distance before we resume slaughtering you." Yurgan's mouth dropped open as Duro stomped forward and gripped Vaahn by the throat. "You're one arrogant little shit!" "Remember your place, Thrall!" Vaahn spat back, his right hand locked around the larger man's wrist. "I am a Noble, and you will respect that!" Had Yurgan been watching, he might have seen the conflict in Duro's eyes; the desire to crush the man who had insulted him colliding with the knowledge of what would likely happen if his sponsors learned he had killed the king's father. The reason Yurgan was not watching was that his eyes were locked firmly on Vaahn's left hand, which had closed around the grip of the still-holstered pistol... With a grunt, Duro released the young Noble. "Bring me to your captain then, and don't try any clever shit with me or by the Gods I will send you to your ancestors!"

Rubbing his neck, Vaahn led the way through the narrow confines of the ship. What crew they saw kept their distance, but did nothing to suggest hostility. They stood in doorways or side corridors, or simply pressed themselves flat to the walls to allow the boarding party access. Duro called a halt when they reached the midship. A female Kyyreni, wearing an Icaran uniform, was stood by a recessed bunk. "Open those lockers," the Kyyreni captain ordered, pointing to the storage containers set in the wall by the beds. The female did as instructed, albeit with an air of frustration. When nothing of note was revealed, Duro pulled the sheets off the beds and tossed them aside, rooting through each for anything that might be concealed there. He seemed almost disappointed when nothing was found. "If you want to get in my bed, you can just say so." The female sneered at Duro, who chose not to acknowledge her existence. "Move on," he said impatiently. The next bulkhead down, Vaahn stepped aside and gestured forward. "The bridge is just on your right, sir." Duro nodded to two of his men, who took point as Vaahn stepped back down the narrow corridor to make room. By accident or design, he found himself stood beside Yurgan. "Jasat's son?" the Noble asked quietly, giving the boy a sidelong glance. Yurgan nodded. It felt strange to be in the presence of a man whose deeds had been the stuff of bedtime tales, and stranger still for that man to be, outwardly at least, no older than he was. "I wish you weren't here," Vaahn said, watching Duro intently as he spoke. Yurgan sighed inwardly. "Afraid you won't live up to the stories?" Vaahn did not reply; his attention, and that of everyone else in the corridor, was now fixed firmly on the screaming coming from beyond the bulkhead door. A Kyyreni soldier appeared in view for a brief instant, moving backwards at speed with blood pouring out of his nose. There was a singular gunshot, followed by a very brief scream and the sound of bones being broken. A woman stepped into view, armed with a kitchen knife and a stolen Kyyreni assault rifle. She had a glass-eyed look about her and a blank expression that made her unnerving to look at. She began to fire just before the boarding team did, by which time Vaahn had grabbed Yurgan and shoulder-barged him into a side room.

As the two Kyyreni hit the floor, locked in a sudden hand to hand brawl, the deafening fury of a close-quarter boarding action began. It was impossible to tell how many were involved or who was winning; all that came from the corridor was an incoherent, ear-splitting roar as high power weapons were unloaded at once another. In the room where Vaahn and Yurgan had landed, the Noble was quickly getting the upper hand. If he had any qualms about hurting a family member he wasn't showing them. He hammered the boy mercilessly, punching and kicking and beating his head with the butt of a pistol. "Stay down boy!" he snapped, finally ending his furious attack. "Stay down and you'll get to live through this!" Yurgan was in no position to argue. He lay curled up in a ball with his arms wrapped around his head, trying to shut out the pain and ignore the taste of blood in his mouth. Somehow, he found the strength to gasp out a few words. "You s-surrendered!" "You of all people should know I never surrender," Vaahn replied coldly, looking up and seeing the other occupant for the first time. Nick sat on the bed with an assault rifle in hand, holding it idly with the barrel aimed at the door. "The Companion seems to have won," he said in a cheery manner that was utterly at odds with the grim reality of the situation. As if summoned by the child android's words, the Companion emerged. It was covered in bullet holes, and some lucky trooper had jammed a knife in its guts up to the hilt, but it was still functional. Behind it laid half a dozen Kyyreni, including Captain Duro, all shot and stabbed and, in one case, beaten with a blunt object until their lives gave out. Hot on its heels was Captain Thornton, who stepped inside and accepted the weapon from his son. "See, Noble? This is why I like androids." Voice laden with contempt, Vaahn tore his gaze away from the bloody scene. "That is precisely why I despise them." "Well, they're taking point," Thornton said matter-of-factly. "The Helmsman is with Yang acting as our flanking force, so it's up to us and the Companion to press the advantage here. You know what to do, Vaahn." He did; rush the boarding point, secure it, and kill every Kyyreni soldier he met. It sounded easy, but he knew all too well this was going to be a bloodbath. Boarding actions always were. Nick glanced down at the crumpled up form of Yurgan. "Hand me a pistol. I'll keep an eye on him." Vaahn did so, reluctantly. "Don't kill him if you can avoid it; he's family after all." Nick nodded and raised the pistol, pausing only to give a pained glance toward his father as the men left. "Be safe," he whispered, and turned his attention back to the task of guarding the prisoner.

It took eighty seconds to retake everything up to, but not including, the docking junction. As had been feared, the Kyyreni had wasted no time in bringing men aboard, and now at least a dozen soldiers had dug in and begun sending retaliatory fire back down the corridors. As Vaahn and Thornton dropped into the sparse cover offered by the bulkhead door frame, chatter came through their earpieces of a flanking attack in progress. Four or five Kyyreni were pushing aft, looking to cut across and hit their position from the side. "Go!" Thornton snapped, risking a glance into the room beyond. A bullet struck the frame and threw hot sparks up into his face. "Shitting hell! Go already! We've got this!" Nodding, Vaahn waited for the Companion to unleash a burst of covering fire before making his move. He darted through the door and down the side passage, barrelling headlong into a Kyyreni scout who'd been looking to drop a grenade through on the sly. Working on instinct, Vaahn ducked as the man sought to club him with his rifle and adopted a Deck-fighting posture, slipping automatically into a reversed second stance. This was what the martial art was made for; brutal, no-holds-barred melee. He jabbed with his left hand and reached out for the swung weapon with his right, gripping and twisting as he punched out a second time. He moved forward, going for a kick to the leg and a third punch to put his foe off balance. The scout went down, but wouldn't let go of the gun. Down was all Vaahn needed; he reached across himself, drew his spare pistol back to front, and fired off the clumsiest shot of his life. The recoil sent a sharp pain through his third and fourth fingers and threw the gun out of his grip, but it did what it had to. With a bullet lodged in his throat the scout finally let go of the rifle, and Vaahn shot the man three times with his own weapon to be sure. It was shocking how easily killing came back to him. Shocking, and yet at the same time strangely, perversely pleasurable. Now, after so many years, he remembered why he had been so eager to shed blood as a young man. Age and injury dulled the bloodlust, but in a young, mostly unharmed body Vaahn was free to revel in it again. He shook off the momentary introspection, abandoned the stolen gun in favour of his Icaran-issue energy rifle, and stormed off in search of more men to kill.

Weapons fire came out of nowhere at the T-junction. Rebounding bullets blew out a monitor at head height as he passed, showering him with plastic shards and forcing him to duck and cover. He could make out the crack of energy fire retaliating against the Kyyreni slug throwers, but as he scrambled into a firing position something else kicked in; a low-velocity weapon with a bass-tone bark that was followed by a shrieking bang and the reek of petroleum. Vaahn took a chance and went round the corner into the fight. Two targets, out of cover and running from something, passed into Vaahn's line of fire and were torn apart by a short, brutal burst of fire. A third Vaahn never saw came up screaming at the top of his lungs, and Vaahn knew why the others had broken cover; their friend was burning head to toe. A second shooter put the man out of his misery. Aki emerged, carrying a modified boarding shotgun and grinning like a kid in a candy store full of matches. "Hey Vaahn! The plan's not gone quite right, but at least I'm having fun!" The Noble grinned and nodded at the weapon. "Just where did you get that toy from?" "Mind your own damn business!" she spat back, giving Vaahn a playful wink as she swung the gun up to show it off. "Custom smoothbore with homemade incendiary load; it's amazing what I can make in the kitchen." "Good for you, now get that gun to the boarding point!" Vaahn took point to the first door, waving for Aki to leapfrog his position. It didn't take long for them to meet incoming fire again. One of the crew moving to support them was taken down by a heavily calibre shell fired through the doorway. The round itself missed him, but instead struck a pressure pipe that blew out on impact. The man took shrapnel to the face and neck, dying of system shock before he hit the deck. Aki blind-fired down the hall, more to suppress than kill as Vaahn, bent double, sprinted up to join her. The corridor had suffered massive blast damage and the fire control systems were in full effect, filling the section with a pool of water half an inch deep. Judging by the wet pops and oddly resonating impact sounds, most of the surrounding sections were likewise drenched and flooding. Another shot, fired out of nowhere, clipped Aki across the back of the hand and forced her down into cover, where she reeled off a dozen inventive variations on the word 'fuck'. Vaahn tried to sight and snipe the shooter, but between the smoke, water and sheer weight of suppressing fire he didn't dare risk staying out of cover long enough to take the shot. A Drakonian female, crawling on all fours, tried her best to move up to join the two Kyyreni without being shot. "How bad is it out there?" "It's like being fucked by a cactus who won't buy you dinner first!" Aki spat. She primed a grenade and hurled it through the door. It came back three seconds later, hurled straight at the Drakonian who caught it and bowled it back out into the corridor. The resulting explosion threw a jet of scaling steam through the door, and the deck below them began to creak ominously. "I hope you've got a plan then!" the Drakonian gasped, suddenly glad of the water soaking her pants; it hid the fact she'd just pissed in them. Vaahn risked another quick glance through the door. He knew that there should be friendly forces to the right, but bullets seemed to be coming from that direction. He dropped back as a shot spanked the door, poked his gun up without looking and fired until the energy cell ran out. "Right now, all we can do is hold position and pray that the flanking team can succeed. It's just a waiting game now." He reloaded the gun and risked another glance. Beside him, Aki switched to a stolen pistol and began to snap off shots in the vague direction of the boarding hatch. Behind them, unnoticed by either, the Drakonian lay face down in the water and quietly bled through the headshot that had killed her twenty seconds prior.

* * *

On the skin of the Kyyreni vessel, a dozen privateers clung to the superstructure and watched the hatch blow out. It was a curiously surreal experience; with no atmosphere to carry the sound and no oxygen to consume, the hatch did not so much explode as contort. The edges of the door were sheared through by the directional charges, and the aftershocks folded up the centre into a semi-circle that was carried upward, relative to the orientation of the attackers, across the dorsal plating of the Red Queen. Yang Mai, unofficial second in command of the vessel, watched the Helmsman drop into the ruined airlock and begin setting the next set of charges. The Kyyreni must have known they were coming now; she had felt the shockwaves of the blast through her feet, which meant the ship's sensors would be screaming warnings to the bridge crew at the very least. With the charges set the Helmsman withdrew to a safe distance and blew the charges. This time there was an explosion. The charges pierced the hull into an atmosphere laden corridor, igniting anything flammable in range and lifting the massive doors out of position. They span around, caught in a confusing storm of contradictory forces until the escaping atmosphere won out and lifted them clear. Oxygen, carbon dioxide, nitrogen and a whole host of dirty air raced by, freezing on contact with the nothingness of space. "Let's go!" Yang ordered, once again letting the Helmsman take the lead. The android was built for this kind of thing; it was a reprogrammed hostile environment unit, built to withstand anything life on an orbital mining platform could throw at it. He could take a micro-meteor to the chest and keep on coming. It was doubtful anything short of an anti-tank gun would be able to stop him.

Down she went into the enemy vessel, her stomach lurching as she passed into the artificial gravity field projected through the floors. The entire section was locked down, but that would only buy the defenders time. The strike team would keep advancing, keep blowing down doors, keep exposing more and more of the ship to hard vacuum... sooner or later the defenders would have to don suits and meet them in the airless sections, or be suffocated as their atmosphere was vented deck by deck. A door ahead slid open to reveal two Kyyreni with respirators crammed into a tiny room. The Helmsman took the brunt of their fire, but advanced unheeding into the storm. Panicked, the Kyyreni tried to seal the airlock before the android reached them, but it was more than strong enough to catch the door and swing it back open. The Kyyreni died messily. The Helmsman had no weapons; it simply grabbed them and twisted their heads until they came off. "Internal airlock," she said for the benefit of the rearguard. "We can use this to get back into the pressurised sections without decompressing them." "The boarding team will be glad of that," Rogers replied as he moved up to join his commanding officer. "We can go through two at a time. Be first through?" "Granted," she answered. "Take the Helmsman with you." She watched the hatch close and the unfamiliar language of the door light change, presumably from depressurised to pressurised, if it worked anything like their system. It took forty seconds for the warning lights to blink on, indicating the far door was open. "Alright! Next two, let's go!" She turned toward her team and saw Mikal leaping toward her. He flipped head over heels and landed next to her with a football sized hole in his chest. The Jalaxian, Kelitt, opened his mouth to cry out and lost his head, literally. Weapons fire came out of the void. Ink black shapes began to drop through the ruined airlock behind them, firing with modified assault rifles that didn't need external atmosphere to function. Ten men and women, trapped between the guns of the enemy and a sealed steel door, desperately scrambled for cover from the attack. There was little to be had; it was a brutal pincer move, one executed with perfect timing. Half the squad had died without ever seeing an attacker. "Hold them back!" Yang screamed, firing wildly at the aggressors as they swung down onto the deck. "Rogers! Helmsman! We need help here!" She got no further. A Kyyreni marksman dropped into cover, took aim at her as she scrambled to find a hiding place, and fired off a shot that blew out the visor of her space suit.

* * *

The port and starboard boarding gantries had extended, and at long last the Red Queen was on the attack. It was a dangerous move, given that, even with the most conservative estimates, the Kyyreni outnumbered them two to one. However, Thornton knew that it was only a matter of time before someone on the enemy bridge decided to cut their losses and break free, boarding teams be damned. If that happened it was all over; they'd give no quarter, and his ship would be annihilated.

Vaahn was left to oversee the brawl in the central section. The Kyyreni were slowly being driven back, but at a significant cost. Every bulkhead passed was paid for in blood, and an audible wailing filled the air, a heart-stopping shriek of metal subjected to sheering stresses. The only light now came from torches and muzzle-flashes; everything electrical had either shorted out or been shut down due to the excessive flooding. Most of the water from the port water tank was now sloshing around their feet, in some places deep enough to flow over the lip of the pressure doors. Relying entirely on thermal sense, Vaahn hurled himself through another doorway and buried a fire axe into the neck of the first living thing he found. Another Kyyreni, breed and gender indistinguishable in the confusion, rose from its hiding place to retaliate, only to be shot half a dozen times as Aki came storming through after him. "Now we have some fun!" she cried, her cackling laugh putting Vaahn in mind of a fire on the verge of blazing out of all control. Aki on point, the two Kyyreni finally reached the flanking position they needed to end the fight once and for all. A well-aimed grenade took seven of the attackers out of the fight, and as Aki screamed for the rest of the crew to push up to meet her Vaahn took up the grim task of finishing the wounded.

The Courtesan moved past, battle scarred but still functional. Vaahn shivered at the sight of the glass-eyed killer as it strode through the carnage. Where it encountered a wounded enemy it would stop to shoot them through the head before moving onward. It didn't see the bloody toll that had been paid, nor did it care anything for the lives lost. It was incapable of caring. Vaahn turned away and resumed his grim task. He, at least, was capable of feeling something as the snuffed out men's lives. He began to wonder just how many had died at his hands today. Including the wounded, he'd sent nine to Kalkar's embrace for certain, but how many others had died to his shots in the confusion? Weapons fire resumed at the boarding corridor, and Vaahn wondered if Aki ever had such moments of introspection. He shook off the thought, pushing it to the back of his mind and letting himself slip back into the warrior mindset. It was now a race against time; they had to force their way onto the Kyyreni vessel before they could break free. Everything depended on that now.

* * *

When Pierre died he took three Kyyreni with him. Shot twice in the arm and coughing blood into his helmet, he took one of the spare boarding charges and hurled himself at the airlock. The blast reduced him and the nearest alien to a cloud of blood and body parts. The second Kyyreni staggered backward, gawping at the chunk of rib sticking out of his chest. It wasn't his. He quietly sagged to his knees, gripping the grisly shrapnel, and perished with little more than a sigh. The third man, only just passing into the internal gravity, was caught by the shockwave of the blast and lifted clean off the deck. He flew backwards, screaming in terror as his mag-boots failed to find purchase and he was hurled out into empty space. Yang lay face down on the deck, trying desperately to shovel air into his mouth. A second shot punctured her backpack, spilling even more of her rapidly dwindling reserves out into the airless corridor. A third smacked her in the backside hard enough to throw her head first into the wall. She came to her senses less than a minute later, awoken by a nauseating surge of vertigo as something hauled her upright. "Still alive?" A familiar voice asked. Yang looked into Rogers' face and gawped. The man had never been particularly attractive, but at that moment he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. He dragged the suffocating officer into the airlock, leaving the Helmsman to mop up the counter-attack. The hatch closed behind him and the inner door hissed open, granting a sweet surge of breathable air. "What about the others?" Yang gasped, gulping down great lungfulls of oxygen. Rogers grimaced and gave the door behind them an anxious look. "We couldn't see anyone else left alive."

The corridors beyond echoed with gunfire. How far away was impossible to tell, but they knew they were close to the central push. Somewhere, muffled by the internals of the ship, breaching charges detonated, signalling the advance of another assault. Yang and Rogers kept the Helmsman on point, watching as it swept every junction and corridor for signs of life or booby traps. They rounded a corner and found themselves on the edge of the fight. Kyyreni soldiers filled the corridor. Some were trying to push forward whilst others, often wounded, were attempting to fall back. The Helmsman did not hesitate; he opened up with bursts of precision fire, cutting down the Kyyreni one by one. A heavy round came flying past the T-junction and hit one of the Kyyreni as they broke cover to flee the android. In an instant he was doused in liquid fire and dropped, screaming and flailing madly. An energy bolt put him out of his misery, and the violent sounds coming from around the corner finally stopped. "Sound off!" barked a voice, distinctive due to its Urokoni tones. "It's us, Vaahn!" Yang called back, moving to meet with the assault team. "Damn but you're a sight for sore eyes!" Vaahn flashed a quick smile, but there was a weariness that he simply couldn't hide. He glanced down at his tail and made a tutting sound at the sight of a bloody gash halfway up. "When the hell did that happen?" "You aren't the only one who's got a few scratches," Yang replied, acutely aware that her facial cuts were the least of her concerns. "I won't be sitting down for a while." They took a moment to regroup and tend to their wounded. Medics did what they could for the seriously injured and handed out hyposprays of pain-suppressants and stimulants for the rest. Everyone left in the group was covered in cuts and bruises, though most were so wired on adrenalin they had barely noticed. Vaahn took a mouthful of water from a hip pouch and emptied most of the rest over his face. "With your permission, ma'am, I'd like to take a team and hit the bridge and engineering. I'd suggest you head for the prow and meet up with our push there." "Good plan," Yang replied, beckoning the Companion over. "You're with me. Helmsman, follow Vaahn and keep him alive." Once more the strike team set off, albeit somewhat depleted. There was still much to do before they could claim victory...

* * *

Thornton staggered into the bridge with the help of a chunk of pipe used as an improvised crutch. A nano-patch was bandaged over his left knee and he was sporting the wide-eyed stare of a man pumped full of stimulants. With some difficulty he made it to his command chair and slumped into it, releasing a long moan of delight at finally being off his feet. He had walked the decks of his ship many times, but this time it had been the most arduous walk of his life. His backside barely touched the seat before the door opened again, revealing a bloodied Kyyreni being escorted by his son. Nick ordered the Kyyreni to kneel in the centre of the bridge and took the helm position, keeping a pistol trained on the prisoner as he pushed a jack plug into his ear. His eyes glazed for a moment as the monitor turned to static, but it passed quickly. "Why did you bring him here?" Thornton asked, squinting at the young man knelt before him. "Vaahn wanted him kept alive. He's a relative." "I meant why here, on the bridge?" Nick shrugged. "We don't have a brig, and we can't spare any guards right now. I thought it best to keep him with me." The captain gave the prisoner a weary nod. "So, why are you so important that Vaahn spared you?" Still kneeling, the prisoner drew himself up and replied, "I am Yurgan, son of Jasat, heir apparent to the throne of Tu'ri." Thornton rolled his eyes and replied, "Good for you." He met Yurgan's stare, noting the anger in the boy's eyes at the insult; the latest of many he'd suffered today. He shook his head and broke the stare, having seen looks like it many times in his life. "Boy, let me give you some advice that might just save your life; don't be a hero. I can already tell you're plotting to try and take the ship from me, but let me tell you that better than you have tried. I doubt your granddad could best me in your place, and seeing as he kicked the crap out of you and is currently stealing your ship you should take that to heart!" Yurgan lowered his head and spat watery blood on the deck. "He is not my grandfather! Vaahn was a hero of our people and an honourable man! He would never stoop to this kind of tretchery!" "Seems someone doesn't want to accept reality," Thornton said, allowing a hint of sympathy to slip into his voice. "The fact is, ideals don't last in the real world. Vaahn's a survivor, same as the rest of us, and we all do whatever we have to in order to survive." He hobbled over to the prisoner, standing within arm's reach and looking down on him in more ways than one. Once more their eyes met, and this time Thornton did not look away. "Let me tell you how your little plan plays out," he said as though reading Yurgan's mind. "You give my bad knee a swift punch or kick and I go down. Then you jump me, punching or throttling or trying to get a weapon, which I don't have by the way. Then Nick shoots you in the spine and you die, having accomplished sweet fuck-all for your troubles. It's not worth it lad." For a moment, it looked as though Yurgan was going to pounce, but instead he spat on the deck once more. Satisfied that the Kyyreni was no threat, Thornton gave his son a nod and hobbled back to the chair. "Trust me; you're better off here than in the fight. At least you'll live through this. Nick, contact the vanguard and find out what's happening over there."

* * *

The remains of the Helmsman were scattered across the deck, but it had lasted long enough to break through the enemy line. The rest of the assault team had reached the bridge more or less intact and were now settling in to wait as the cutting unit was set upon the door. "We need to watch our back," one man warned. "Reports from the prow team suggest the Kyyreni are falling back toward our position." Aki dismissed the comment with a shake of her head. "I doubt that; they'd risk being pincered between our two assault points. It's more likely they've just pulled back to find somewhere defendable on the port side." There was a loud bang from the door as a weld gave out. Everyone in the strike force jumped at the sound, swinging weapons to bear. They were dog tired and weary of the seemingly endless slaughter. The moment the door came down it would all begin again. "I wish we had a flamethrower," Aki sighed. She only had one incendiary charge left. The sound of the plasma cutter intensified as the last chunk of door was burned through. The whole thing dropped to the deck and fell inward, its edges trailing smoke that filled the air with a distinctive, acidic tang of hot metal. The gong-like sound of the door hitting deck was the signal both sides were waiting on. Grenades, hard rounds and energy bolts flew through the breach, and once more all hell broke loose.

Vaahn went through after Aki's last shot was fired. He took a hit to the shoulder immediately and stumbled sideways, toppling down behind a communications console. A bullet skinned his shins as he wriggled upright to conceal as much of his body as he could. The man following him lost his face and collapsed in a bloody heap on the ground nearby. Then came N'hrek, a Drakonian. He went through straight on, firing from the hip with a rapid-fire blaster. He didn't even try to make use of cover. The reptilian marine was hit three dozen times from multiple directions, yet he managed to stagger a good fifteen feet into the room before his body registered it was dead. That had bought time for Aki and three others to force their way through. Vaahn swore N'hrek would be avenged, and injected himself with a dose of stimulants to power through the agony of his shoulder. He came up out of cover as a young crewman tried to flank him. Howling in agony, he threw an elbow jab on instinct, using his injured arm. He nearly blacked out, but survival instincts made him drive the attack home. He drew a blade and slashed with his right, uninjured arm, opening the young man's throat as he tried to regain composure. More shots came his way. He dropped down low and took his victim's gun. A grenade went off high in the air, peppering the room with shrapnel and burying chunks of hot metal into his side. He dropped down against the console again, sighting down the room as best he could for any sign of a target. One emerged; a female bridge officer. He squeezed off a burst of suppressing fire, and by chance landed a headshot that killed her instantly. Aki cried out from the other side of the room. Vaahn relocated back to where he'd hid during the initial entry, letting off bursts of un-aimed fire to keep the enemy down. Aki herself was crouched behind a terminal with cuts all over her face and neck. She turned to call out to him when a bullet caught her in the back of the head. It was a fluke shot; a double ricochet fired from somewhere in the room. She was left sprawled on the ground, eyes shut and breathing shallow. "Aki! Shit!" Vaahn rose and fired wildly, catching a glimpse of movement in the opposite corner of the bridge. "There! Suppressing fire over there!" He took a chance, trusting his crewmen to do as he'd ordered as he ran to Aki's aid. He dragged her further into cover, unleashing a heartfelt string of expletives as more bullets pocked into the deck around him. Once he was satisfied she was safe he turned his attention to the last of the enemy.

Korgan aimed his shot as he'd been trained to do. He steadied his breathing and squeezed the trigger, leading his target just a little. The human broke cover and took hard rounds to the side, collapsing to the ground in a broken heap. Beside him, Warren wasn't firing at all. The young man was trembling in fear, wet-eyed and soaked in his own urine. The only other occupant of the hiding place was Brahlt, though he was long past able to fight. "I'm going to die, aren't I?" he stammered, clutching his stomach tight to try and stop the bleeding. "I can feel it! Gods help me, it hurts!" "Easy Brahlt," Korgan whispered, eerily calm despite the carnage around him. "Help is coming. All we have to do is wait." The king's son dropped back into cover and reloaded, wordlessly mouthing a prayer he'd been taught as a child; a blessing for the honoured dead. He wasn't afraid of dying. It was a revelation that had come to him once the fight had begun in earnest. He wouldn't welcome death, but he wouldn't run from it either. It was failure that scared him; the knowledge that dying would mean he'd let his father down. He rose to fire again, but this time the enemy was closer than he'd expected. A Kyyreni in an Icaran uniform grabbed the barrel of his gun and hauled it out of his grip. Korgan dropped on instinct, drawing his pistol as the attacker drew his own. Both men used the operations console as cover, shooting bullets over one another's heads in a manner that must have looked ridiculous to an outsider. Korgan's inner warrior was screaming at him to pay attention. His enemy fired in three round bursts. His body reacted to this knowledge without conscious command, emerging from cover after the third round had fired. He swung his pistol over and down, seeking to blind-fire the attacker. An energy bolt from the other side of the room struck the console and knocked him backward. The Icaran Kyyreni vaulted the console and rolled on top of him with a knife in hand. The two young men grappled one another, both nearly identical in age and build. Korgan, however, had been caught unawares, and his opponent knew how to press the advantage. "Warren!" he cried. "Help me! Get him off me!" Warren didn't move. He watched the brawl with wide-eyed horror, frozen in place by his impending death. The knife bit into Korgan's side. He screamed in pain and fired wildly, skimming a bullet across the attacker's legs and buying enough breathing room to land a quick jab to the face. The two men broke, both struggling to their feet to face one another again. Korgan came up first. He took aim with the pistol and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened; the magazine was empty. Vaahn lunged at him with the knife again, and ended his life in a bloody surge of violence.

The red mists parted, and only then did Vaahn become aware of Warren. The human teenager had a gun in his hands, which he held in trembling hands. It was pointed squarely at Vaahn. "You killed him!" the boy cried aloud. "You killed Korgan you bastard!" Vaahn looked down at the body below him, trembling as his body began to burn out the drugs in his system. His gaze lingered long enough to take in the details: clothes of red, pink and grey; rings bearing familiar insignias; runic torcs bearing the name Tu'ri. "Gods no," Vaahn gasped. "Please don't let it be true..." A pistol was pressed against the side of his head. Though the corner of his vision Vaahn saw the gunman; a human in his mid to late teens, sporting the thousand-yard stare of someone who'd seen too much. "He didn't deserve this!" Warren cried. "None of us did!" Vaahn ducked and swung his right arm up, knocking the weapon aside as Warren squeezed the trigger. A bullet skimmed past his head close enough to break flesh. He barrelled into Warren and threw a vicious punch to the head that put him out cold. "Bridge is secure!" he called out. Only then did he allow himself to pass out from pain and exhaustion.

* * *

The official surrender was given and accepted. Thornton listened to the back and forth in a distant, detached manner, slouching half asleep in his chair as Nick handled the communications. There was a lot to take in, but one statistic above all others had squatted in his mind and refused to budge. "Seventy-three," he sighed aloud. "Seventy-three left out of a crew of one hundred and sixty two. By God, I hope it was worth it..." Yurgan looked at the despondent captain. "What of my men? How many of my crew did you butcher?" "According to your XO, there's currently two hundred and thirteen unaccounted for. Several of your crew sabotaged their own ship in an attempt to prevent capture; there are hull breaches on the aft keel sections consistent with a catastrophic generator overload." "Better to die than surrender, right?" Yurgan shot another spiteful glance at Thornton, who was too lost in his own thoughts to notice. Nick's eyes suddenly widened, reacting to the data inflow from the console. "Captain, there's another ship out there!" Thornton sat bolt upright. "Where?" He began to frantically key instructions into the chair's console, filling his screens with scanner readouts. "It's big, sir," Nick continued. "Looks like a Heavy Cruiser. She's coming right for us." "How long until she gets here? Thornton asked, finding the sensor grid he wanted and studying it carefully. Nick's eyes unfocused for a moment as he calculated an answer. "Twenty minutes." The answer made the captain shudder. "I think it's time to make an announcement..."

"All hands, this is the captain!" The voice roused Vaahn from his torpor. Thornton's voice came through every earpiece at once, temporarily drowning out what little inter-squad chatter remained. The medic paused in his work, surprised by the slightly tinny voice's sudden emergence. "We have sighted an enemy vessel closing on our position at speed. As of this moment I am ordering all hands to board the prize and to make for the nearest safe port. I will remain aboard Red Queen and engage the hostile. With luck, I can buy you all the time you need to escape." "Wuzz't?" Aki groaned from the makeshift bed she'd been placed on. "W'fight w'o?" "Just rest," the medic told her before turning back to Vaahn. "Your shoulder's a mess. I need a proper lathe to fix it. Do you think there's one aboard this ship?" Vaahn cocked his head rather than shrug; the latter would have been very painful. "Maybe you should rescue one from Red Queen while you can?" The medic nodded. "Good plan. Don't go anywhere." Vaahn took a moment to examine his injuries before doing the same to the incoherent Aki. "Where exactly did you think we'd go?"

Thornton was back on his feat, his ad-hoc crutch keeping the weight of his ruined knee. "Nick, make sure everyone knows we're decoupling in ten minutes. Anyone who isn't over on the prize is going to be riding with us into hell." "Yes sir," the android replied obediently. Satisfied, the captain turned to the third occupant of the bridge. "Yurgan, if you want to get out of this alive you had best get back to your ship." "You're letting me go?" he asked, momentarily bewildered. "Vaahn saved your life for a reason. Maybe it's because you're family, or because you're too valuable to kill. Either way, he'd be awfully upset with me if I killed you now." Yurgan slowly rose to his feet, his eyes remaining fixed on Nick's weapon. For the first time, the android lowered the pistol. "Get gone," Thornton ordered. "Go find Vaahn and hand yourself over to him. He'll see you right." "And what makes you think I won't try to sabotage your ship?" Yurgan growled back. "If you want me to shoot you in your damn ugly face I'll happily oblige!" The sudden fury made Yurgan recoil. Taking the hint, he turned away and fled back to the captured vessel. "You could go too, sir." Nick prompted as the door hissed shut. Thornton shook his head, turning around to give his boy a warm smile. "A Captain must go down with his ship. Besides, someone has to stay behind and pilot this hunk of junk." "But I can do that alone!" Nick protested, focusing all his effort into producing the most heart melting puppy-dog expression he could. "Please dad, get out of here while you can!" A tear formed in the corner of the captain's eye. He blinked it away, his smile never shifting. "What makes you think I could bear to leave you behind?" The android gave his father a puzzled look. Thornton knelt, grimacing in pain as he did so, and took his son's hands. "You may be a machine, lad, but I love you as though you were my own flesh and blood. You have to stay, and I couldn't live with myself if I left." The captain laughed as Nick's eyes began to rapidly focus and un-focus, indicating intense data processing taking place inside his head. He lunged forward and hugged the boy tightly, finally allowing the tears to come. Nick simply sat there in blank-faced disbelief, unable to truly come to terms with the revelation. "I don't understand," he confessed. "It does not make sense. I'm a machine..." "You do as your captain orders, like a good boy," Thornton said, taking a few deep breaths to regain composure. He gave his face one last wipe and checked the ship's clock. "Give them a two minute warning. We're going to need to move soon."

* * *

With a sigh of escaping residual gasses, the two ships broke apart. The captured vessel, known as The Prize by those who now crewed it, turned toward the nearest safe jump point and fired its engines, accelerating off into the void. Red Queen turned head on to the attacker and moved off less urgently, struggling with its crippled engines to build speed. Weapons fire split the void once more. The Icaran vessel unloaded volley after volley from long range, but the Kyyreni seemed not to notice. She adjusted course, recalculating her interception flight path, paying the destroyer no heed. As the attacker turned, so too did Red Queen. She built up more speed, channelling more and more power into her engines. In a relatively short time, and over virtually no distance - a mere hundred thousand miles - she had reached full running speed and was curving sharply round to cross the T on her prey. Now, at last, the Kyyreni ship paid attention. She was a Khaos Heavy Cruiser; a dedicated warship with numerous shield grids, heavy armour plating and a monstrous armament. Almost all of that was frontal mounted, which meant she had to reorientate to engage the approaching Icaran. She did so too late. One volley was all she managed; one salvo to rip away the last of Red Queen's shields.

On the bridge, Thornton knelt behind his son's chair, listening as descriptions of shield generators exploding, reactors failing and hull plate's fracturing. He did not care. All that mattered to him was that the self-destruct was primed and ready to blow. He gripped his son tightly, squeezing the boy close to himself and planting a kiss upon his cheek. "Thank God", he whispered, "that I have done my duty..."

The Red Queen ploughed into the side of the larger warship and buried itself in her mid-decks. The impact was phenomenal, causing the smaller, lighter ship to concertina under its own inertia. The force of the collision sent Kyyreni crew flying, knocking them to the ground or into walls as the entire ship jolted under the impact. For a moment, they dared breathe easy. Then the moment passed, and Red Queen exploded, torn apart by an overloading plasma reactor. A sphere of white-hot light appeared in the heart of the ship and expanded alarmingly, flooding through the breach of the Kyyreni ship and consuming it from the inside out. Crew were baked alive by the wall of roasted air pushed ahead of the fire, which in turn consumed their remains and reduced them to their component atoms. The entire prow-starboard quarter of the vessel ceased to exist, such was the fury of the detonation, and the remains was smashed into a million micro-meteorites as the ship's reactors, fuel and ammunition stockpiles were detonated in turn. The engineering section dissolved into metallic rain; the gun-decks became an expanding sphere of dirty red flames; the keel split into three, which split again and again as secondary and tertiary detonations carved insane fractal fault-lines into each piece and shattered them in turn. All of this happened in less than three seconds. Viewed from the escaping vessel, the death of the Red Queen and its opponent was nothing more than a tiny flicker of light, visible for just a moment before being lost forever in the darkness.

* * *

As one of the wounded, Vaahn was spared the gruelling post-capture rotation and so was instead permitted to sleep. All those who were resting did so heavily, exhausted by stress, injury and the system shock of coming down off of whatever drugs they'd been pumped full of. His dreams were full of battles fought long ago between ancient armies, and of the founder of his bloodline. When roused from his torpor he took a watch on guard duty, supervising the prisoners who had been taken down into the holding cells in the bowels of the ship. It was one of the advantages of most Raider vessels; they expected to take on unwilling passengers. He arrived late to the post, in part because the doctor insisted on examining his injuries first, but mostly because he'd gone looting in the meantime. He found the cell he was after and sat down in front of it, picking an item out of his bag to show to the occupants. To one in particular, the only one who didn't acknowledge his existence, he focused his attentions. "I believe this is yours," he said, clinking the bottle against the leg of his chair. "Three year vintage. I can't comment on the current crops, of course, but back in my day the Uktlo Special Reserve tended not to perfect for at least four." When it was clear no reply was forthcoming, he bit down on the plug in the top of the bottle, jerked it free and spat it down the hall. Then he took a mouthful and sloshed it around his mouth, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Not bad," he admitted after swallowing. "Though I was never really a jolth drinker." Still no answer came. With a shrug, Vaahn offered the bottle toward the cell. "Share it round," he said. "Consider it a toast to the fallen." "Speaking of fallen," the Kyyreni said at last, stepping past the other occupants of the cell to come to the bars and stare Vaahn down. "Warren tells me you killed my brother." "I did," Vaahn said without hesitation, having clearly anticipated the accusation. Yurgan threw himself against the bars, teethed bared and eyes full of fury. "How the fuck can you just sit there and admit it so casually? Does it mean nothing to you? You killed your own grandson, stabbed him like he were a piece of meat!" "Someone give the boy a drink to help cool his tongue." Vaahn ordered, his voice barely rising above a low growl. "As to your question, Korgan died in service of his ship. He is not the first man of Tu'ri to do so, and I doubt he will be the last. The reason I do not seem to care, Yurgan, is that I try not to let grief consume me. I do not always succeed, I'll admit that much, but Korgan gave me no choice." "You could have saved him!" Yurgan spat back. "You saved me!" Vaahn shook his head sadly. Despite his dour expression, his eyes showed a hint of the pain he harboured within. "I have lost two brothers under my command. One I could not save, but the other I sent to his death. It is easy to look back on those times and wish I had done something different, but in the moment I did what I believed to be right. A man cannot do more than that. I will mourn Korgan, as will you, but I cannot change what happened." The bottle, now mostly empty, finally found its way into Yurgan's hands. He studied it a while, perhaps considering whether or not to throw it at Vaahn, but he relented and downed the last of the spirit. "For the record, it was Korgan's. I prefer ourl." "I will do right by you," Vaahn replied, easing himself out of the chair. "I know my word might not mean much to you right now, but I'll give you it anyway. I'll do all I can for you and your crew." "I'm sure you will," Yurgan replied sarcastically. Vaahn gaze met Yurgan's and held it for a time. There was a moment when it appeared Vaahn had something more to say to his grandson, but the moment passed. He gave one last weary sigh and dragged the chair back out of the way. Pausing only to recover his bag, he began to walk along the holding cells, idly checking on the occupants of each.

When at last he slept that night, there was a new face amongst the ghosts that visited him.