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'Captain D'armeus? Captain? Dammit, JD, wake up!' Blacktip kicked JD in the ankle and his eyes slowly opened, an annoyed grumble escaping his lips.

His first instinct was to roll over and go back to sleep, but the armchair he had dropped into, whilst comfortable, was not spacious enough for it. Instead, JD forced his eyes open wider and he stared around the dimly lit room for the chrono. He had been asleep for six hours. Rubbing the back of his neck, trying to shoo the dull ache away from where he had barely moved for six hours, he looked at Blacktip who was sat on the corner of the low sofa beside him, amusement writ across his face.

'How long you been there?' JD asked thickly.

'Long enough to know you're not always an irritable old bastard.'

'Only when 'm asleep.' He replied and heaved a yawn. He still felt hellishly groggy. A mug of steaming hot s'ryn would soon sort that out. 'What's happened? Did the miserable old fuck pay up?'

'Not quite.' Blacktip said slowly, looking JD up and down. 'He's demanded the Rite of Shattering. '

JD's full attention snapped to Blacktip, the fatigue draining from his mind as he stared hard at the Shark. 'He's what?'

'He issued the challenge an hour ago. He said that he refuses to pay for incompetence and cowardice-'

'That old song and dance again,'

'And he wants to challenge you. He wants you to prove to him you have all that competence and courage you claimed to have back in the wardroom. His words, not mine.' Blacktip finished.

JD stared at him, open mouthed. 'I guess Umber should have made that wager more official. What's the rule set he's put in for?'

'A knife fight. First to stab, wins. No armour. He wants it as traditional as possible, so you'll be stripped to your waist. Slicing and dicing won't get you a victory. And he wants to use his own blades.'

JD frowned. 'Has he given permission to have the blades tested for poison?'

'Of course not.'

'Then I'm just going to go right ahead an assume he's poisoned his blade, then.'

'As am I. The Overseer is Lieutenant Ifarni. Two of his legal team will be the refs. Oh, and there will be an audience. You have half an hour to prepare. Then you need to be in the ship's gym.' Blacktip dropped a duffel at JD's feet.

He bent down and un-zipped it. Inside was a pair of plain black cotton trousers and his shipsuit; a pair of boots, black trousers and a matching tunic. A fresh set of smartweave body armour was included, too. He looked up at Blacktip, an un-spoken question on his lips.

'Miss Dansen brought them across. Both Shadow and Spirit were of the mind that you might need them. I'll have a steward bot bring you a mug of s'ryn and something quick to eat.'

'You said there would be an audience?'

'This is being broadcast to the other ships as well as having people present in the gym.' Blacktip replied.

'Wonderful...' JD muttered and started un-doing the fastenings of his battle armour.

Blacktip left the room and seconds later a steward bot appeared through a hidden hatch in the corner of the room bearing a mug of steaming s'ryn and a nutrient bar. It placed them on the low table and vanished through the hatch again. JD settled his armour onto the rack in the cubbyhole and plugged it in, turning his back to it as the specialized cleaning unit got to work cleaning up his battle armour. He peeled off his smartweave and stepped into the compact but otherwise luxurious bathroom and cleaned himself up.

Lieutenant Ifarni was a small, dark skinned creature with a shock of bright red hair that was curled up into a tight bun atop his head. He wore his dress uniform, his service blaster at his right thigh and his ceremonial rapier hanging from his belt at his left. Ifarni was the head of the Eclipse's legal department, with a three-man team of law-bending minds at his beck and call. In this instance, Ifarni was to play an impartial role during the Rite. He and two of his team, who were stood on the sidelines around the room, would make sure it would be a fair fight. They would call the winner and call bullshit if necessary. Spread out around the edges of the gym were members of the Eclipse's crew that had the opportunity to down tools and watch the fight. Stood off to one side, nearest the door, were Chief Leibniz, Lieutenant Tristan Krasin, Sergeant Anusi Tarvis and Squadron Leader Toya 'Hellcat' Dansen. Captain Umber and her escorting Legionaries were sat on a bench along a row of weights that were secured in their racks on the wall.

JD looked around for the Candarans as he discarded his tunic, half aware of the scattering of admiring and hungry looks he was getting from various members of the crew as he padded shirtless into the middle of the gym's wrestling mat. Admiral Meeshan was flanked by his guards, standing at the far end of the gym, stripped to his waist, wearing a pair of deep brown cotton trousers. He had removed the caps from his tusks and wraps from his back-tendrils, but the feathers that hung from his ears remained. He glared across the open space at JD, squaring his thin shoulders and lifting his chin in defiance.

Ifarni marched into the middle of the open space that had been cleared, raised a scroll, made a show of unfurling it and started reading from it, his expression almost bored. JD slowly tuned out what was being said. He had done the Rite of Shattering far too often; both as Overseer to read out the ceremonial rites as Ifarni was doing now, taking part in the challenge itself or even playing the role of referee, declaring winners and on one ocassion, calling a penalty. That one had resulted in the death of both participants.

'- Jaycen D'armeus, Son of High Lord Shaylah D'armeus, holder of the Sceptre of Agony and Master of the Infernus Reaches, are you prepared to shed your blood to end another's life in the name of honour?'

JD's focus snapped back to the here and now. Ifarni was looking at him expectantly, scroll in hand, an impatient look on his delicate face.

'I am prepared, Overseer.' He replied.

Ifarni turned to Meeshan, 'Grach Salin Meeshan, Son of Second Lord Admiral Salin Lewan Meeshan of Candara, the Second Son of the Ruby Star, Holder of the Scrolls of Advent and Master of the Symbiote of Narshall'vek, are you prepared to shed your blood to end another's life in the name of honour?'

'I am prepared, Overseer.' Meeshan replied steadily. His glare of defiance returned to JD, who returned it coolly.

Ifarni turned to Commodore Blacktip, who stood up and played his part.

'As the highest ranking officer present at the Rite of Shattering, I give my blessings and give my oath to uphold the tradition, and to see that the wishes of the challenger is fulfilled.' He said. He sat back down on the bench, watchingintently. Ifarni motioned two of his subordinates forward. Both were carrying boxes of dark wood, polished to a high sheen and sealed with brass clasps. The swirling coppery sigil of Candara was engraved into their lids.

Sergeant Demeritus approached JD, stopping before him and un-clasped the lid. He opened it to reveal a pair 13 inch blades. The long, tapering diamond shapes of the blades were intricately engraved with patterns of leaves and thorns, and the handle was leather wrapped bone. JD picked up the blades, inspecting them. They were well balanced, finely made and more importantly, they had been sharpened by laser, which gave them a keener edge than that of a blade that had been sharpened using more traditional methods. Demeritus gave JD a look that he knew all to well. Kill him. He stepped aside and JD padded further into the makeshift arena, the harsh lights of the gym's overheads highlighting the lattice of scars across the demon's crimson and jet body. Meeshan strode into the middle of the gym to meet him, and the two stopped, facing each other, five feet apart, silently studying one another.

Meeshan was a head taller than JD and was in his fiftieth year of his one hundred. He was grey skinned and wiry, his muscles taught with a few scars here and there. His thin mouth drew back into the slightest of sneers. JD had read up a little on Meeshan after the contract had been approved and signed, so he knew that the Candaran was a fine hunter and had taken part in a few of these Rites in the past, winning the majority. But those were apparently fought against those slightly less imposing than himself or of equal, physical stature. JD, however, was nearing his thousandth year and was of warrior stock, whereas Meeshan was a career soldier of politician breeding. JD had been trained hard in his youth by his grandfather, a ruthless Demon countless milennia older than his father, and then had been cast to the stars in command of an ancient battlecruiser with a letter of marque and a less than favourable crew. Two hundred and eighty-one years as a privateer, a hundred and seventy-five as a pirate, then the rest spent doing mercenary work had had an effect on JD. When it came to a fight, he gave no quarter and he had the experience and muscle to do so.

Being considerably more bulky and much older than Meeshan however, did not put the Candaran off, nor did it mean that JD had the upper hand. Candarans were quick and sly.

A drum beat out an increasingly fast rythm somewhere off to JD's left, the individual beats merging into one drawn out sound before falling abruptly silent. It was then that Meeshan flicked a tendril out and whipped JD across the face before he could react. The fight had started with the realisation that Meeshan was a damned sight quicker than the average Candaran.

JD wondered if he was quicker.

JD struck out with a kick to the knee that sent Meeshan crashing to the lightly padded floor of the gym. He rolled to his feet, favouring his left leg and brought his blades up, hissing as he did so. JD skipped backwards a step as the blade tips sliced in a cross right before his face. There was the faint scent of freshly cut grass then it was gone. The blades came back down, slashing again, and again, JD skipped backward, studying Meeshan's movements, searching for a pattern to exploit among the lightning-quick strikes.

Meeshan performed a pirohuette and JD took another step back, still seeking an opening as he let himself be forced to skirt the inner edges of the mat. He stepped to one side, feinted with his left hand, then jabbed with his right. Meeshan met the incoming blade, deftly shunting it to one side, bringing the other around in an arc to stab at his ribs. JD moved again, the tip of the blade tracing a faint line across his side, leaving a trail of icy fire. Meeshan grinned. JD slashed with all his strength and speed, and the grin vanished as JD opened up a deep cut on Meeshan's arm as he moved to evade. He brought his left hand up, intending to drive his blade upwards, into Meeshan's ribcage, but the Candaran skipped back, slapped the blade away and parried the second blade before bouncing in for another try at getting within stabbing distance.

For five minutes, the two matched each other, blow for blow, small scratches opening up here and there on their torsos and faces as they whirled and parried, sliced and kicked, drawing blood and snarls from each other.

Meeshan lashed out again with a tendril and JD snarled, snapping his teeth at it as it came towards his face. Meeshan swore angrily, loudly and JD tasted blood. He spat the tip of Meeshan's tendril to the floor in a bloody glob of spit and dove at Meeshan, one blade held before him, the other held back, ready to stab. Meeshan slid to one side and hooked his foot around JD's ankle, tripping him over. He rolled on the mat, coming to his knees and looked up at Meeshan, eyes ablaze, a grin on his face. The fresh scratches on his body tingled icily and the faint scent of freshly cut grass was back, stronger than ever and lingering tantalizingly in his nostrils.

'Tainted blades? How unexpected.' JD growled sarcastically in a low voice.

'You really think I would make this easy for you, Demon? You deserve far worse punishment for your existence alone, but the rules of the challenge wouldn't allow for what I had in mind.' Admiral Meeshan sneered.

JD sprang up again, blades whirling, ignoring the slow creeping of ice through his body. They fought harder than they had been for the past five minutes, sending sparks and flecks of blood into the air as they duelled frantically, viciously, each seeking to spear the other with their blades. Meeshan pulled back and spun around so quickly that JD could barely keep track of him. He turned in time to avoid being stabbed in the back, saved by a pure, deep-rooted instinct, instead only receiving a long, deep gash across his side. He swung his fist around, blind with rage as ice cold fingers gripped his chest, summoning the barest hint of his magic. If Meeshan could cheat and taint his blades with poison to try and slow him down, then he could cheat, too. JD's fist crashed into Meeshan's face with a satisfying crunch, driving the Candaran to the floor in a sprawl of limbs, leaving a bright red fist-shaped scold in the middle of his face. The smell of singed flesh filled his nostrils and he chuckled richly, the red coals of his eyes flaring to a vivid, glowing fire as a soft murmer rippled through the gathered audience.

A deep green blood oozed steadily from the stunned Candaran's nose slits, trickling down the sides of his slim face to pool in his long ears.

'You're not the only one who can fight dirty. Now. Get up.' JD growled angrily.

Meeshan spat at him with a growl of his own, rocked back and kicked himself into a crouch, fighting the dizziness that buzzed in his head. He thrust a blade at JD's hard abdomen. JD hopped sideways. Another line oozed blood down his midriff, adding yet another scar to his collection. He brought his foot up, planting it hard into Meeshan's stomach and put the Candaran back on the floor, leaving him winded as well as disoriented. JD waited for him to stand back up, stepping backwards to put distance between himself and Meeshan. When Meeshan staggered back to his feet, he lept straight at JD, slashing out with blade and tendril. JD ducked, flicked one of his combat knives into the mat, spun to one side and grabbed Meeshan around the neck from behind, pulling him close. Meeshan struggled, the tendrils coiling from his back whipping out and sliding around JD's neck, and constricting as the shorter Demon forced him to bend backwards at an awkward angle in his grip. JD sucked down a deep breath and held it, letting it out slowly, bit by bit, as he struggled to hold the flailing Candaran still with one arm, resisting the urge to snap the admiral's neck.

Meeshan gasped, his fear rising slowly from his gut to his throat and he tried stabbing JD in the thighs with his blades, but he couldn't quite squirm into position. JD had gained an iron grip and suddenly Meeshan was a little more than worried. His body was latticed with cuts and his face was aching, burning hot as if he had a fever, and he was still struggling to regulate his breathing as well as keep his balance as JD pulled him backwards to lean against him. He bit down on a whimper of agony as the Demon's crimson flesh burned hot against his back and his neck, trying to retain as much of his dignity as possible.

To top it off, he had just learned how much stronger JD was than he. The Demon had managed to pin Meeshan with one arm and was still upright even after receiving enough Chivan Spores to put down another Candaran twice over. It hadn't even slowed him down. The thought of surrender raced through his panicking mind as he struggled in the flaming-hot iron grip that was trying to strangle the life from him.

The very idea of losing his life to a Demon mercenary made him redouble his efforts.

'I'll be nice. But just this once.' JD hissed into his ear, pulling Meeshan closer to him, 'I'll let you live.'

The tangy scent of hot metal met his bloody nostrils and he let out a short, little gasp as a searing hot blade slid slowly, precisely, into his side just beneath his ribs, neatly piercing one of four kidneys. JD shoved Meeshan to the mat, kicking the tainted blades away from the Candaran as he sprawled, mouth opened wide in shock and pain. A hand went tentatively to his side, probing gently at the hilt of the blade jutting from his flesh. He had been gored by a Venoron before, a six legged antlered beast with a terrible temper. He had been repeatedly stabbed by a would-be mugger. He had also survived IEDs in the field of battle and being shot up by enemy boarding parties during deep space combat. Meeshan had recieved many, many wounds of various types, from various scenarios over the years, but never before had he been stabbed with a red hot blade, nor been punched in the face with an equally hot fist. He looked up at JD, who merely glared down at him, contempt writ plainly across his crimson and jet face, his red eyes ablaze, sparks flickering from his curling, obsidian horns.

Ifarni stepped back onto the mat after a quick, mumbled discussion with his subordinates once he realised that Meeshan wasn't going to be getting up any time soon.

'Captain Jaycen D'armeus stands proud as the victor of this Rite of Shattering! The challenger has been defeated within the stated parameters of the duel and thus the contract still stands! If there is anybody that would like to challenge the outcome, step forward now!' Ifarni called out to the silent audience. When no one was forthcoming with a complaint, Ifarni placed a hand on JD's shoulder. 'The challenge is at an end! The Rite of Shattering has been performed to its fullest! The contract still stands!'

There was a raucous cheer from the Shadow Stalkers present. JD flicked his blade to the mat where it burrowed its finely honed tip deep into the mat beside its partner, clicking against the deck plates beneath. He turned to Ifarni, trying to ignore the ice prickling painfully and steadily across his body whilst at the same time hauling his temper in by the scruff of its neck.

'Get his damn money.' He rumbled.

'It will be transferred within the hour. Fifty million tax free credits per destroyer. One hundred million to the dreadnought.' Ifarni confirmed. He looked hard at JD. 'I suggest you spend some time in the medibay before heading back to your shuttle, Sir. You're looking a little pale.'

'I'll be fine.'

'I'll make sure he gets to the medibay. You make sure Admiral Meeshan gets the hell off my ship without his money.' Blacktip said, striding over.

Tristan, Anusi, Toya and Christoph made their way over, with Umber in tow.

'That was a hell of a fight, Boss.' Toya said, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

'That old bastard is a lot quicker than he looks.' Tristan commented, watching as Meeshan's men helped him from the gym under escort from some of the Eclipse's Legionaries. 'I wonder if he'll survive.'

'He better.' JD grunted. 'I want him to live with this failure. Maybe it'll humble him or something.'

'With an ego that big, I doubt it.' Toya said with some skepticism.

'I have seen miracles. Not many, mind. But they were miracles.' Christoph said. 'Granted, copious amounts of alcohol was involved each time.' He added thoughtfully.

'Captain,' A deep, feminine voice purred, 'was branding him really necessary? With your fist, of all things?'

'No, but I'm glad I did. I technically own him now. But I don't think I want to tell him that. Let him find out for himself. When I'm a long, long way away.'

Umber's face split into a grin and she pulled him into a hug, wrapping her dark wings around him for emphasis. 'Justice has been served and now my crew can rest in peace knowing that they have been avenged. I thank you, JD. I really do.' She let go of him and stepped back. She saluted. He didn't get a chance to reciprocate the salute as the ice finally crawled in to his mind, sticking cold needles into his brain. His knees gave way and the last thing he remembered was Tristan catching him.