FSE

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Hey honey bunch, it's Helena. I wish I was hitting you up about smashing some bars between here and the next sector before the next race, but unfortunately, it's bad news. I got a boy in the Racer's Heart security suite who bets pretty hard on the Racer's Guile holo-drama, you know the one? Well, he just sent me these recordings I would USUALLY use against ya, but I like you. I like ya a lot. I see you being one of the good ones. So… sorry, sweetpea. Looks like your Hux is doing Hux things and jumping ship. Be careful around Mo'Ona.

Lix read the email three times… watched the videos of Skrunkles selling them out and accepting an offer to a position on the League's board… It couldn't be real, but… it hurt. Seeing her little rat buddy reach across that desk with stars in his eyes… Though it was what Hux were known for; getting in your back pocket, making you trust them, then you wake up and your ship and home are in their name all of a sudden…

"Was it all a trick?" Tears pooled in Lix's eyes as Mo'Ona scampered down the stairs to the docking bay, his little chest heaving and eyes full of fear.

"W… what? Whats… Lix talkings about?"

"This recording I'm watching," With a flick of her claw, she forwarded the incriminating evidence, the scene of his betrayal. If fur could pale, Skrunkles would have appeared as a small mound of snow, his head twitching to and fro in ever-harder shakes of his muzzle.

"No… no no no no no! No, Lix gots it all wrongs! I was lyings- to S'Vark! Gettings in with thems-"

"Oh, sure," Lix growled, using the palm of her paw to wipe away the tears that spilled down her angry face. "Like I didn't just watch you take that deal!" Horror built in Mo'Ona's gut as he flicked his terrified gaze between Jack and Lix- his friends… his only family… the jerking motion of the human's eyes told him he, too, was watching whatever video had been sent. Who could have? The lawyer? That… didn't make sense… Lix would never believe him! So who? Who was… ruining everything! "Tell me everything! What were you thinking?! You'd just... waltz in there and play double agent? Why didn't you tell us then? Why not clue us into the plan if you weren't sneaking behind our backs?"

"Please please please," Paws slapped together as he felt hot, wet streaks trail down his furry muzzle. This wasn't happening… "Believes me… Skrunkles trying to helps!" Desperation, so great that the suddenly blaring klaxons overhead didn't faze him, welled from deep within Skrunkles' gut. "It's me… it's your Skrunkles…" A distant automated message for all passengers to lie on the floor and cover their heads did nothing to diffuse the situation, Lix drying her eyes as Jack began to advance on the diminutive rat. "No, waits! Jack, please!"

In the end, it wasn't Lix or a last-second reconciliation from Jack that saved Mo'Ona from the approaching mechanic, but a line of tracer rounds that began to cut down the other crews furiously trying to free their ships. Black clad enforcers, each holding the emblem of the Asteroid Racing League or Whisper Box upon their shoulder, rushed to form a firing line at the overlooking balcony, gunning down anyone who refused to follow orders and lie prone.

Jack, along with several more survival-oriented crewmen, returned fire with a vengeance. Most rounds _plinked _off the expensive armor the enforcers had donned, but several punched through with the righteous fury of fire and steel, Jack's revolver being one of them. Lix ducked, rushing into the Gerthtrude for the No Safety Measure's cockpit and her own little flechette pistol. Not that she'd shot it even once after the skirmish back in the Vents… but still, her mate was fighting, so she would too.

Skrunkles darted into the shadows, away from the sparking metal- away from the deluge of hellfire, and into safety as Jack rushed behind a pallet of fuel crates. The man's confused and angry glare sent a spike of agony through the rat, more so than any bullet, leaving him to shake his head in a futile attempt to make him understand…

"Take the long way around to the Spitfire!" Jack hollered over the din. "I'll skin your fuckin' hide later!"

So…

So he did… Mo'Ona turned and scampered away… scampered in terror into the dark and shadows, away from his friends and away from the roar of battle… away from the only home he ever cared for.

"Skrunkles can fix this… Skrunkles cans…" He didn't look over his shoulder to see Jack turn his back on him… to see Lix shoot him one last, worried look… too focused on survival… too focused on salvaging the one good thing he had left. Too focused on looking ahead…

"Form a fuckin' line! Get intersectin' sectors o' fire on those corporate sludge sacks!" Jack's roar barely breached the cacophony of gunfire and pained hollers that permeated the docking bay, ship crews forming sloppy yet effective formations at his behest as Lix fired flechettes over his shoulder. Lesser in caliber, but superior in number, their concentrated fire chipped away at the enforcer line little by little until but a few scant retreating silhouettes were left. A firm hand on Lix's chest stopped her from following her Human, her eyes filled with confusion and betrayal. "Nah, scaly lady. Need someone to get the Gerthtrude and Safety ready to fly the moment the lockdown lifts- no arguin'. I'll beat feet back to ya or catch an escape pod an' you can pick me up." Lix hissed, her tail slicing the air as she squeezed off several pointless shots at the retreating enforcers.

"Go get that bitch."

"Aye, ma'am."

Jack's smile vanished as he turned, shouldering through the roiling crowd his fellow mechanics had devolved into as they rushed after their prey, several falling victim to their enthusiasm as rounds flew their way from the enforcer's fighting retreat. Boots dug dents into the deck as several enthusiastic gunmen charged after the bleeding pack, Jack letting them take the lead, and the danger, upon their shoulders. He had bigger fish to fry. There was no time to look back at Lix's worried face, his feet carrying him through the roar of gunfire and screaming enforcers barking orders. Fire and flames, dimmed by the rolling red alarms, marked his way over piles of corpses and around throngs of resistance pitting their grit against disciplined formations of corporate forces. People were putting up a fight; you couldn't just point rifles at folk with guns and not expect everyone to lie down. It was a bloodbath, though. The enforcers were gaining ground at every skirmish Jack passed, each group yelling for help and close to breaking.

"Where the fuck are you…" The whisper was answered with a text, the halls slowly filling with drones capturing the chaos with cold, mechanical determination. One hovered around his head, leading him… guiding him through the Hell that had descended on the Racer's Heart. Crowds thinned, the din of gunfire and the screams of the dying ebbed like a tide, gradually fading until the only noise ringing in Jack's ears was the whirring of the drone gently bouncing off the walls and the wailing of the emergency sirens. Where it was taking him soon became obvious: Victory Lane, with its resplendent door and hallway lined with history and frozen faces of racers long passed.

Jack found the doors wide open, a cordon of drones recording- no, _broadcasting _his entry. Angela wanted her spotlight, her final hurrah. Or… his, if she had her last laugh, of course. As always, the announcer of the Asteroid Racing League was as perfectly gorgeous as a painting, her flowing red dress akin to the rivers of blood currently rushing through the uncaring steel corridors of the Racer's Heart, matching perfectly with the crimson lipstick that stained the glass of her neat bourbon. Gone was the usual cacophony of pilots reveling in their victories and drowning in booze, dark was the betting board usually heavy with the newest bets and hopes, and silent was the often panicked bar… silent aside from the single bottle of alcohol slowly draining down Angela's gullet. A dainty hand refilled her chilled glass as Jack sat heavily beside her, turning to look at the datapad that lazily switched between feeds of her drones.

Chaos…

Blood…

Death…

Angela shivered in delight at each new viral clip…

"It's glorious… isn't it?" She moaned, draining her cup with loud, lurid gulps. "Now this is a finale… a crescendo… not just another _boring… pointless _circuit. Around and around and around, dying in the same ways over and over and over- like watching paint dry." When she finally turned to look Jack in the eyes, her own bloodshot with glee and running mascara, he saw the same woman who had damned his people to a cold, slow death. "Sevarians are meant to die in agony, not in pretty dresses behind gilded desks."

Jack sniffed, setting his revolver on the bar with a heavy thunk before snatching her bottle away. Angela grinned… watching as he upended the booze down his throat with several long pulls until the liquid ran dry…

"So… ya'll were bored."

Tick Tick Tick

_ Glass upon marble… ice cracking_

"Ya'll were… bored. Were ya bored when ya jumped ship to the council?"

"Infuriating, isn't it?" Angela smiled, thin… razor sharp… "Sevar had the golden egg, we could have gone from a colony to owning seats on the council with antimatter farming and engine development-"

"Like I ai'n't heard this shit before…"

"Instead, we wanted to hoard it like beasts. We wanted to die with independence in our pocket instead of dancing on the galactic stage with the same chains around our necks as everyone else." Glass clinked upon the counter as Angela twirled the now-empty cup… "You should thank me. I saved it, in a way. Now it can at least be used, advanced… worth something to someone and make money-"

"I'm gonna kill ya."

"Maybe."

A smile… rising like a languid spirit… Jack tossed the now-empty bottle of bourbon to the ground before grabbing his revolver with a scowl, fingering the black trigger. It only made that thin smile grow wider as Angela stepped away, her fingers clutching at the throat of her dress, fumbling… scrabbling…

Like a velvet curtain, the silk folds fell to the floor around her bare feet… flesh of steel glinted back at Jack, replaced… enhanced… nothing was left original of Glorious Angela… rear facing knees clicked near silently as she giggled, titanium alloys around her midriff trembling with mirth as slender steel arms wrapped around a mechanical torso… tubes of blue liquid and pulsing vents that engorged with every breath- filters and clicking actuators… shivering pistons and smooth steel brackets sliding with every gentle twitch. The gentle curve of her legs belayed the sharp internal connection of gear and engine, her arched back hiding visible bones of shining metal… even her throat was false, covered in faux skin to conceal the tendons of wires and cable… progress… ever onward… as she'd always demanded of her people- of herself…

Swarms of drones whirled around the galaxy renowned announcer, revealing her beauty, her terror, to all who thought they knew her, to all who had hung on her every word, like a whirlpool of locusts with clicking lenses and whirring rotors. Black alloy hands trailed up her metal legs, pausing to dip into the valley of her smooth, featureless thighs with a heated moan.

"I knew the council wouldn't abide by our… hubris…" Further those hands trailed, over breasts that no longer existed… to her throat… squeezing… metal groaning… "The war was… fun… _but there was no winning… Isn't that… exciting? I'm going to _kill you… Or you'll kill me." Another moan, needy… heated… as if she were living for the first time in years… "And everyone will see it… everyone… they'll know…"

Jack could only sit back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. It wasn't uncommon for Sevarans to… go the extra mile. Extra bolts wouldn't matter- wouldn't factor, but this? What was even left of the old Angela? Jack rose with a sigh, popping his back with a disgusted snort.

"Fittin'… wasn't much Human about ya in the first place."

"It's why I won. You… we, were never willing to take the necessary steps. I was, that's why I'm sitting at the top of the stars and you're drowning in oil under a crumbling station out in the cold."

A nod… it was all he could do… nod along and glare. Telling Angela she was where she was by climbing over the corpses of her own people would be pointless. She already knew, she prided herself on it… the thrill… a spider that drooled at the thought of eating her mate…

Jack's arm whipped up like an angry snake, his revolver barking several heated shots that sailed by Angela's head as her legs zipped to the side, crawling towards the man as a demon on clicking limbs. Her fist rose to crack off his jaw, the crunch of bone filling the once silent bar as drones swarmed to catch the ensuing brawl from every angle. Clenching his teeth, Jack wrapped his hands around the woman's slender arm, twisting to toss her over his hip and onto the counter, shattering the now-empty whiskey bottle with a spray of glass that dented the steel of her hip. Giggles spilled from the announcer's lips as Jack's fist slammed into her face, splitting the false skin of her forehead and cracking her metallic orbit before her reverse knee bent, rocketing a foot into his chest and sending him skidding across the floor with a wheeze of pain.

Unnatural clicks filled the man's ears as his fellow Sevran twisted at the hips, launching from the bar to land on his stomach like a comet, blood spilling from his mouth as something inside, something important, popped. Pain ripped through his guts, old and familiar, inflamed by the eager smile gleaming down from above as he twisted to wrap his legs around Angela's knee. The woman simply moaned as he rolled, taking her to the ground as she shot her hands out to catch her fall. Elbows flew, sparks showering the deck as steel alloy shot up to block steel alloy, Angela grinning through his strikes before one lucky hit bent her nose, blue lubricant spilling down her face to coat perfect, white teeth.

Jack pressed his advantage, his heavier weight, straddling the woman's hips to slam his fist into her face once- twice, before a pair of legs whipped up to wrap around his throat. The world spun, spit lodging in his throat, as Angela heaved Jack bodily off her and across the floor. His feet scrabbled, boots tripping over a stool as his back hit the bar with a thump… were there words to say? Sure… would she listen? Listen as she sailed through the air, thighs locking around his head and bleeding lips splitting in a moan as she rained fists down on his head? Probably… drama was the spice of her life… she'd hang on his every word- eager to hear his anger… his hate. Wet rivulets ran down the back of his head as blood pooled across the bar, a soft, spongy break in his skull leaving stars. The smooth rubber of her crotch rubbed raw the skin of his throat as her moan reached a fever pitch.

Hands reached up to grab at tubes that crossed her back like scars, ripping them free before sinking into divots in her steel abdomen. Jack heaved with a roar, slamming Angela to the floor with a crack of steel and plastic, blue liquid seeping from tears in some internal mechanism. What should have been a shout of pain when his boot descended on her skull was instead pure ecstasy, a moan so intimate one would think Jack was her lover. Even still, metal bent as Angela rose with a lurch, bending at the waist like paper before snapping out a one-two jab that Jack weaved beneath, answering with a staccato of straights and hooks. Each whiffed, the movements familiar… hands wrapped around wrists and forearms as the Sevrans locked in quick, snapping attempts to toss each other. Nostalgia weaved its way through Angela as she wrenched Jack's elbow down, only to find her wrist twisted and shoved behind her. These movements… these steps… every child knew them, every adult practiced them… it was required after all… she'd lapsed in her practice.

Jack had not.

A smile spread across Angela's face as his furious visage slammed into her already broken nose, his arms heavy and legs shaking with pitiful organic fatigue… still, it had been enough. The room whirled as he twisted his hip, her arm pulled tight over his shoulder, and ripped the announcer's feet from the floor with a roar of pure enraged rapture. Angela didn't fight it, didn't resist as her back smashed to the deck and some integral part of her spine gave way… only smiled… smiled as the heel of Jack's boot descended on her once perfect face.

Again and again and again his boot slammed down, first on her shattered nose, then on her eye, pulping the plastic orb full of industrial fluid and high-grade lenses, then on to her slowly deforming steel skull.

Again…

Again…

Again…

Yet still Angela moaned… her hands not moving to save herself but instead roaming over the flat of her chest and her between her smooth rubber thighs… again… and again… and again… even as the blue pool of fluids grew and her legs began to twitch and her voice carried not the musical tone known the galaxy over but the mechanical tin of a dying electrical voice box. Even as wire and cable and shining metal were exposed, even as the final organic bits of Glorious Angela were exposed, her shriveled brain… still she moaned. Even when Jack ceased his enraptured destruction, stumbling away to cough blood and spit onto the floor and drag his revolver to his chest… still she moaned… only when he raised his barrel, pushed on by the hatred of a people long since dead, and slowly squeezed the trigger to send righteous fire and lead through the pile of meat that had been her brain, did her ululation cease.

…

…

…

Blood oozed from Jack's lips as the revolver fell to the deck, his back sliding down the bar until the seat of his pants met the bloody floor, drones whizzing and swarming to record and broadcast the aftermath in all its gory glory. Stars swam in the mechanic's vision as he coughed, a ragged cry of pain clawing from his throat like shards of glass. It was hard to think… hard to breathe…hard to ignore the incessant buzzing of drones and ringing in his ears… one by one, the drones fell still, each shining lens turning to gaze at him with dead eyes and silent rotors.

: Initiate transfer of command

: Searching

: Sevar DNA located, initiating credentials package

: Awaiting orders

Jack could only laugh… laugh at the realization that Angela still used her old Sevar clearance on these old and forgotten machines. Even their drones had been stolen… repurposed… used… He knew the feeling. Not that he could feel much of anything at the moment. A dull throb screamed in the back of his skull, warm blood trailing down his neck to soak into the sweat-stained collar of his sleeveless shirt. Uncomfortable… didn't begin to describe his insides. Something was wrong, but fixable.

The drone network was of more interest.

"Unlock docking bay lockdown…" Jack grunted, pressing a hand to his side as pain flared with every word- with every breath.

: Standby

"So many… bitch had to have made more." It was a dizzying affair to try and make sense of it all. Hundreds, thousands… maybe more? All stationed here on the Heart, or zooming about the fleet. All… his now. Bile rose in his throat as screen after screen- a terrified crew gunned down at the locked hatch of their own ship- corporate enforcer teams overrun, beaten to pulps of flesh and marrow by pipes and wrenches and fire extinguishers- ships spiraling into a patrol pattern around the Racer's Heart, logs of panicked and confused pilots demanding answers from flight control who ignored them- pressed suits and glittering dresses flowing down private corridors towards salvation, escorted by heavily armed private security… All too much, too loud, too many. The last feed before Jack killed the system was that of the Victory Lane bar itself, pools of blood and blue lubricant carpeting the floor around him…

And the twitch of Angela's lower lip curling into a euphoric smile as what was left of her brain fell from her smashed head onto the floor…

***

Mo'Ona knew fear. An old friend who never left his side. Quieter, sometimes, but never absent. Fear was what filled his veins as all four limbs tore at the deck, showers of sparks kissing the pads of his paws as he ran pell-mell down unknown hallways and through unfamiliar junctions. The safety of the Spitfire lay far behind, distant and useless, as black boots and rotating red alarms filled his vision. Every plan had failed, every egress route covered… There was nowhere to go except deeper into corporate territory, the black boots and shouting voices multiplying. Options were running low, hope dwindling… Where could he go? What could he do?

How could he survive?

"Lockdown lifted, docking clamps and bay doors now accessible. Thank you for your cooperation."

Confusion- who had… no, it didn't matter. Though unfamiliar to the rat, these VIP docking bays all held the sleek, black troop transports of Whisper Box enforcers, the enforcement arm of the galaxy's biggest bank. A chance, however slim, flittered through his horrified brain as claws skittered at the deck. Roars of indignation and shouted orders fell on his deaf ears. A ramp, a squad turning their guns on him, more hot streaks of death whizzing by his flattened ears as whimpers tore from his throat…

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to be rushing up an enforcer troop transport's airlock ramp; he was supposed to be safe and warm with Jack and Lix… That memory, the night before the first race… Jack's warmth radiating into him from below as he curled on the man's stomach, Lix's chirping snores… friends… Mo'Ona would do anything to replace Jack's enraged face, claims of betrayal spearing into his black little soul, with a crooked grin and that sneer and… and Skrunkles… he wanted to be called Skrunkles again.

"Stand down! Stand down or be fired upon!"

Mo'Ona couldn't hear the demands if he tried, sliding into the troop transport before turning on his heel to toss several spheres from his flight suit behind him. Smoke, acrid and painful, billowed into the cockpit, the pilot blindly firing through the haze at the retreating Hux. He could do this- he could survive, he could make a last stand. He had plenty of grenades! He just needed to lock down the ship, override controls, hijack the transport, and make distance! Just had to make it to the engine bay, he could… he could do something there. The lockdown was lifted- Jack could pick him up, Jack could sav-

Pain blossomed in Mo'Ona's gut like the cold fire of a knife searing through butter, a warm splash falling over his paws as he stumbled into the wall of the cockpit…

Blood…

A glance down- clawed hands feeling his belly… they came away glistening and red as he tripped down the connecting hallway through a small hab of lockers and jump seats, the engine bay still sweltering from recent use. The imprint of his paw slapped onto the emergency lock of the door, one that wouldn't stop the men chasing him for long.

Thoughts came… sluggish as more wet lurching fell from his gut, an empty feeling- a wrong feeling… something was… popped inside him. Fangs chittered as blood oozed from his maw. It would be okay, right? Just… a little scrape, right?

"Jack…"

He didn't answer the call, his comms ringing over and over into the void.

Mo'Ona wanted to be called Skrunkles again.

"J-Jack…"

Tears blurred vision… Legs heavy… It was fine… he would be okay…

"Jack, I's uh… guess I shoulds send a message… for when yous pick me ups… yea- ack!" Claws tore at cables and wires, fangs ripped through rubber, and paws tapped at buttons and panels as blood splashed from a throat seizing with pain. The last of his grenades found themselves shoved into things that looked important, that looked... explosive. Alarms blared, overrides ignored, pressure rising. "Shoulda been me, yous know? Lix- ack! Lix stoles you, yeahs. Woulda, ngh- woulda loves you like whores loves money. Jealous- glk- wanted to erase ya from Arington was alls… didn't works… gots ahead of myselfs. Shoulda told you guys…" More tears, it was getting hot. So hot… too hot. Pounding on the door- they were trying to get inside…

It was getting dark.

"Mo'Ona loved yous more… woulda done anything… Wanted… to be called Skrunkles again… Skrunkles… loved Jacks. Next times… Skrunkles will be Jacks… Skrunkles…"

Falling…

Cold steel pressed against a furry cheek wet with blood and despair.

Pounding on the door was quiet… it would be nice if not for the alarm, if not for the heat.

A pop and roar, a wash of pain and flame, impossibly loud…

Impossibly hot…

He wanted to be called Skrunkles again…

***

Jack lurched to his feet the very moment Angela's headless corpse did the same, his steel alloy arms denting under the relentless jab-jab-cross that rang through the silent bar like a gong. Gleaming synthetic teeth set below sundered flesh and bone shone in a fevered half grin, its twin set smashed to powder as the once dead announcer twitched. Giggles, wet and bubbling, assailed Jack's ears as he ducked and weaved beneath hooks and crosses too fast for his augmented eyes to follow. Pain blossomed along his ear and jaw as blows began to land, his fists knocked asunder by lightning-fast swipes. Vision blurred as the slurry in his pained head sloshed, blood pouring from a broken nose he couldn't feel.

Jack, lockdown's lifted. Time to boogie!

The message shone in a hazy fit as his ocular implant glitched, drones wavering in their vigil above him.

: Throne Thief protocol active

"The fuck are you…" Jack weaved beneath a bloody fist to launch a crunching elbow into the dead woman's throat, metal bending and tubes bursting as he followed up with a gut-churning hook to her abs. Yet still Angela didn't falter, returning his advance with a cross that shook the man on his feet, boots tripping over one another as a leg lanced into his shoulder, the backwards bending knee snapping like lightning. Pops rang in Jack's ear as the shoulder shuddered, his arm going limp with a pathetic shower of sparks. Though it was the jar to his bone socket that made him scream.

No quarter given. No opportunity for a comeback…

Hands wrapped around his bicep and pulled. Pulled as he screamed and slammed his fist into already pulped flesh above an undulating, visible throat. Pulled as he attempted to set his boots and toss the animated corpse. Pulled as a steel foot slammed into his knee with a crack. Pulled and pulled and pulled until Jack's arm came free with a tear of metal and a cry of agony.

Take a breath

Pain, in his shoulder, in his knuckles… pain as he screamed and slammed his sparking stump into Angela's chest.

Breathe in, count to four

Pain as he slammed the barrel of his revolver into her chest and squeezed the trigger.

Breathe out, count to four

Angela shuddered as the round tore through her chest plating and burst from her spine, glowing internals surrounding a steel case of wires and tubes feeding into… into a brain. Jack's failing vision saw nothing more as she bored him to the ground, fists raining down on his skull. Saw nothing more than Lix's message as his free hand let loose his faithful cannon- let his fingers free to reach in and squeeze. Flesh burst like ripened grapes, Angela's fists hesitating with a stuttering twitch. More, hand reaching, grabbing, tearing- wires and flesh and tubes and bone.

And yet still the fists rained down, yet still the remaining half of her head did smile. Jack's searching hand fell upon some hard resistance, hot and vibrating, and he pulled blind as he was. Metal bent and stretched as he placed a boot upon Angela's eviscerated belly, pushing while he yanked and squeezed and screamed. It was… hard to see. Hard to think. Another message flashed across his vision, one from Mo'Ona, or maybe it was a call? Didn't matter… Jack blinked it away with a tired grunt, his head smacking off the steel deck as yet again Angela's fists fell upon his skull. His neck felt… loose.

Redundancies, he decided, so little of the Angela he knew was left. All the worst parts and none of the very rare good. Angela's giggles burned away into distorted electronic crackles, her blows falling weaker and weaker as the lights within her chest dimmed. As with the faux brain in her head, Jack had reduced the shriveled remains of her last, fetid organic into pulp between his fingers. Muscle squirmed and jiggled in his palm, oil and blood leaking from his severed arm as Glorious Angela finally went still.

The clatter of a tooth, cracked and wet, rang across the deck as Jack fell limp, and waves of nausea carried him floating on a hazy pond of confusion. Now, still and dark, the corpse of the Asteroid Racing League's announcer sat tall, her pistons and actuators and synthetic muscle statuesque in death.

"Lix… Victory Lane… L-Lix…"

Jack wasn't even sure if he'd actually called his scaly lady or not, cradled as he was in the approaching blanket of sweet, cool darkness that banished the ringing in his ears.

***

Claws sped across the Gerthtrude's control panel with almost feverish fervor, Lix pausing to send yet another call to Mo'Ona that the little rat had failed to answer. Jack had gone silent as well, a fact that worried the Kux'lar to no end. It was one thing to go comms dark for a while; it was another completely to go dark for so long.

"Come on, guys." Yet another call failed to connect to Mo'Ona's comm unit, this time with not a continuous ring, but the icy cold response of a failed to connect tone.

: This user is no longer in service, thank you, and have a nice day. :

"Fuck… fuck fuck fuck, what's going on?" More calls, more dial tones, more answering messages. Anxiety warred in the 'Roid Racer as the Gerthtrude's engines hummed beneath her, rumbling with the displeasure of an idling beast awaiting her master. Lix had to stop herself from performing pre-flight checks for the third time. Jack could handle Angela; she had to trust that. The bad blood between them was his and his alone, or she'd be there right by his side. Angela was Jack's to hunt… still, that didn't stop her killing claw from rapping a staccato beat on the deck in time with her thundering heart. What stopped said thundering heart was a call from Jack.

"Lix… Victory Lane…"

"Jack? Jack! Oi, you freakin- gnah!" Paws were already pounding the deck, the Kux'lar leaping to the barely open airlock door to squeeze her way through with a bone-popping kick of her powerful legs. The path to Victory Lane was an ingrained one; the soul of her profession, her passion, was a lighthouse at the end of a dark voyage. Muscles knew the way better than her panicking mind, claws scrabbling at the flechette pistol awkwardly holstered at her thigh. It took willpower, more than she'd admit, to keep her finger from straying to the trigger. Breath came quick, nostrils flaring in predatory effort as hallways vanished behind her until the awe-inspiring doors of Victory Lane swerved into view. One hung ajar, a sacrilege of respect, yet she didn't care.

Lix skid into the bar with her pistol raised, her mind speared with ice and heart dropping to her tail at the sight of Jack sprawled beneath… beneath a horror. Was that… Angela? In place of the gorgeous Human was an amalgamation of broken metal and torn plastic, her head smashed to dust from the upper mandible to her scalp. Ragged holes filled her body, the most prominent being her chest, split open with Jack's hand still inside. His only hand. Several feet away lay the mechanic's left arm, an ugly tear of jagged metal still sparking where it had been torn from his body.

Lix rushed to his side, pushing the corpse off his hips. Vomit caught in her throat as she noticed one of Angela's fists raised, ready to descend on Jack's bloodied and bruised face, while the other lay tucked between the mechanical monstrosity's thighs… fingers pressed against smooth rubber. Had she been… no, it wasn't important.

"Jack! Jack, baby, come on. Hey hey hey…" Lix trilled, scared to touch him- scared to move him. "Crap… what do I do, what…" Relief flooded her as Jack's remaining hand blindly reached for her, claws wrapping around the appendage. "Come on, nothing for it. Up you get… captain's orders."

"Ngh… aye ma'am."

"Good boy, come on- uurrgghhh!" Lix found her legs shaking under his weight, an ankle buckling for a moment before she willed it straight. Jack needed her. Her tail whipped around the severed end of his arm, dragging it along as an afterthought as drones whirled about them, locusts to a hive. A pointless hiss did nothing to dissuade them, continuing to buzz about their heads like unwanted gnats.

"G-Got that bitch."

"You did. I should have followed you-"

"Nah, we need to hurry back. Ship isn't secu-"

"Should have followed you." Lix's fangs found their way to Jack's neck to deliver a gentle, silencing nip. All he could do was smile, his only remaining arm slung across the Kux'lar's thin shoulders. He paused only a moment to look back at Angela's corpse for a moment, a fear passing as his brain tormented him with visions of her rising again.

"That was for Sevar." Lix said nothing, struggling as she was to haul the man down the steps and out of Victory Lane, now a tomb.

"I can't raise Mo'Ona, says his line isn't in service anymore." Blood and oil dripped from Jack's severed stump, though he didn't seem too terribly worried about it. She supposed he had lost his arms once before; what was a second time?

"Little bastard be a tough rat." A glob of blood splattered to the floor as Jack spat, Lix grimacing as several specks flecked her muzzle. "Better be alive so I can squash him myself. After I stop hearin' my own blinks, that is…"

"You're fucked up, Jack. What… what in the stars was she?"

"Glorious Angela." Nothing more needed to be said. Whatever had settled in the woman's soul the day she betrayed her own had taken root, growing outward until her body matched that within. Lix nearly fell to the blood-soaked deck with her Human, paws trembling as she righted him with a determined growl. Each step was earned, his weight pressing down on her shoulder with more pain than she was willing to admit. Chaos shadowed their escape, the pandemonium rising to a fever pitch with the lifted lockdown. Docking bays had become contested grounds, the corridors and hallways leading to them full of bodies, both enforcer and crewman alike. "Not muc- fuckin'… ngh, further."

"Yeah, I'm the one falling out." Lix huffed, shouldering the man nearly across her back as they came to the docking bay. Claw caught on boots as they tried to descend the stairs amidst the chaos, crewmen still locked in firefights with corporate enforcers bearing the Whisper Box's emblem. Whatever ground had been gained during Jack's charge was more than lost, several teams turning their rifles on the pilot and mechanic as they fell head over tail down the steel steps. Lix felt a cold, metal arm wrap around her midsection as her head bounced off a step, Jack pulling her into his belly as he turned to take the brunt of the remaining tumble. "Gnah! Jack, you freaking idiot! Leggo! You're too banged up to be playing tough guy!"

"I'm… 'm alright." It took longer than Jack would have liked, along with shamefully shaking legs, to rise to his feet.

"If you're alright, then move your pale ass!" Feminine displeasure was the best way to describe Lix's hiss as she charged ahead, leaping with powerful legs at some crewman who had broken off from his fellows to make the mistake of aiming his pistol at a Kux'lar. The sickle-shaped killing claw cut through his neck like a heated knife through paper, Lix gagging at the feeling of blood between her toes. "What's wrong with people? Why shoot us?"

"Panic, tryin' to steal the Gerthtrude? Who knows." Jack grunted as he pounded a fist into the fat freighter's airlock. "And my ass isn't pale."

"We've fucked, monkey man. Every bit of you is pale, from the danglies to the jigglies. It's like the harshest light your bum has seen was the bathroom overheads."

"You seemed to really like those pale danglies- ack… ha!" Jack gripped his gut as pain washed through him, Lix's claws on his waist to steady him before he stumbled. Clawed paws, one still grimed from the crewman's blood, stamped in impatience as the airlock gate seemed to move more slowly than she remembered. Chuckles crawled from the mechanic's throat as his scaly lady trundled him up the ramp and into the familiar safety of the Gerthtrude's cargo bay, most of the room dominated by the secured No Safety Measures slumbering after her victory. "She's already fueled…"

"I'll fly. You need to rest. Your arm-"

"Is fake. Been lookin' for an upgrade anyway, 'member?" Jack smiled in the small confines of the cargo bay lift, using what little room there was to be had to smush his scaly lady to the wall. She let him… relished his weight, in fact, eagerly accepting his warm lips upon her muzzle. Worry she'd been bottling up flash-fried in her chest, arms carefully wrapping around his bloody neck to hold him close.

"Thought the worst when you went comms dark."

"Tougher 'n that… could use a nap though." Lix growled in the man's face, fangs glistening in the low light as her claws traced the stump of his arm.

"Does it hurt?"

"'Course it hurts. Not so much if'n I don't look at it."

"So don't look at it." Jack laughed as he was pulled into the cockpit, only to be forced into the navigator's seat and stuck fast with a glare.

"Aye, ma'am, taking it easy." A nod was his reward for compliance, his one remaining hand reaching out to caress the Kux'lar's tail as she went about pre-flight checks. With nothing left to do, Jack settled for trying to call Skrunkles again. As with the last two times, he was met only with a disconnected service message. "Stupid fuckin' rat. Pick up the phone so I can chew ya out properly. Lil' fuckin' traitor… Lix, did ya get any word from 'im?"

"None, I tried calling, sending a message, even an e-mail. Nothing has gone through. Not sent and unopened, it's not getting through at all." The duo shared a look as the Gerthtrude's engines rumbled like a fat, hungry beast, vibrating the decking below them.

"Shit… Oh, fuck I got a message from 'im earlier, but I was busy."

"Busy he says. Listen to it now, just… don't run him off. I want answers."

"You an' me both…" Jack grimaced, a jolt of pain from the stump of his arm and gut leading him to fish for his inhaler of painkillers. His hand came free from his pocket with nothing but broken plastic and twisted metal. "Ah…" Tossing the trash to the floor, Jack opened the first, and only, message Skrunkles had left him with a sigh. "Alrigh' ya little fuckin' back stabber. What did ya want?"

…

…

…

Jack replayed the message once…

…. twice

A third time…

…

…

…

Cold, unfeeling… perhaps… no, he wasn't sure… what he was feeling. Was… this a joke? No… Could hear the boots chasing Skrunkles, the pounding on the hatch… Mo'Ona's sobs… the sharp pop before the message's end.

Lix was saying something. Hard to hear. Rushing was in his ears- like he was falling. The last thing he'd said to the little guy was that he was going to kill him. Frustration boiled in the man as he reached for his hair with a hand that wasn't there, Lix snapping a reptilian bark to get his attention.

"Jack! We need to-"

"Mo'Ona's gone." Lix faltered, her bloody claw catching the captain's chair. Wide eyes stared back at him, slit pupils dilating to predatory points. Tears welled in the Kux'lar's eyes, silence filling the cabin, before she choked back a sob.

"No, I-… fuck, we n-need to focus. Deal with it late- gnah!" Lix skittered towards Jack, her quils laid flat, as the man smashed his one good fist into the bulkhead, denting the metal and bending one of his fingers in the process. "Jack! You're fucked up enough."

"Last thing I said to him was I was gonna kill 'em. That he was a traitor. Fuck! I always do this shit! He was tryin' to tell me what he was up to- why didn't he tell us what he was doin' before h-"

Claws on chin.

A gentle turn, the warmth of a muzzle on his neck.

"It doesn't m-matter right now. We have t-to get out of here. Like you've told me before, objective-oriented. Get on sensors and guns." Jack nearly snatched himself away, blood boiling in his veins, screaming for him to rant and rave… but the warm breath on his neck soothed him like water on a burn. Shame burned at him, pussy-whipped whispering in the back of his mind, but he pushed that aside with a growl.

Lix was crying...

"Aye… captain."

"Good. I need you, Jack." Lix gave the man a lick before nipping his neck, the skin turning red with discomfort from her sharp fangs, before rushing to the captain's seat. Normally, she'd be neck-deep in traffic control comms and preflight checklists, but needs must under duress. Tears she hadn't let Jack see ran freely as the Gerthtrude rumbled beneath her. What had once felt awkward beneath her claws was now familiar, comforting even, as she laid her paws on the freighter's custom controls. Were she to shut her eyes, Lix could almost feel the ship mourn with her. Words left unsaid, questions left unasked…

The Gerthtrude rose with a roar, drive bells already red hot as Lix burned hard out of the docking bay, the backwash of her acceleration igniting several corporate enforcers into ash as the fat ship barreled through the protective shield and out into the chaos of open space. Their escape wasn't the only in progress; entire fleets of fleeing guests, pilots, crew, and even investors flooded the space around the Racer's Heart, Whisper Box gunships boxing in those who had surrendered into a disorganized gaggle while others fought in furious dogfights. Fields of debris marked the tombs of those who had both failed and succeeded.

Lix barreled through them all, the thick plating taking the brunt of fire, both friendly and not.

Jack, for his part, found his hand squeezing his ship's cannon controls tight enough to warp the metal.

"Twenty-degree ventral roll, port side!"

"Aye!" Lix twisted her paw, sending the Gerthtrude on a dance through the stars, her left side dipping to give Jack a clear shot at approaching mercenary ships.

BBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT

Righteous fire roared from the Gerthtrude's port side PDCs, the brain-rattling ammunition tearing zipper lines through the icy void to stitch holes through the main body of the approaching vessels, vapor rushing from the breaches before the fuselage disintegrated into clouds of shattered metal and torn plastic. Drones, no longer under Jack's control, followed their primary programming: record the league… show them all.

Jack's teeth ground until his jaw ached with strain, his mechanical eyes zipping to different screens independent of each other, fingers racing across the controls as more and more mercenary ships found their end at the wrathful hand of the Gerthtrude's cannons.

"Fifteen degrees starboard and high, wing coming in from below as well."

"Good copy!"

"Turn her belly towards our evac route, disable guidance and drift, twist this fat bitch-"

"And we'll give 'em both barrels!" Lix wiped the tears from her face, Jack's anger lighting the fuel that was her grief. Paws whipped and pedals jerked as Lix disengaged the flight assist, turning the heavy cargo freighter on her side to coast along while presenting the pincering ships with bristling gun batteries. Every round that slammed into crumpling noses and cracking cockpits sent a thrill of vengeance down the raptor's spine, her tail coiling in the custom-made hole Jack had cut into the seat. "Fuck 'em up, for Skrunkles!"

"That fuckin' rat's ass was mine to kick ya corporate boot suckers!" Another burst of PDC fire resulted in a cascading debris field that peppered the Gerthtrude's sides, green paint flaking away to reveal burning scorch marks. "Another wing on our aft, swing!"

"Not fast enough, brace!" Hammer falls rang through the freighter, rounds from a trio of gunships pinging off the Gerthtrude's cargo bay door and drive bells. Another pass trailed a line of fire across her upper decks, breach alarms and airlocks slamming closed as an unused cabin found itself with sudden holes to the void. "Taking some damage, they punched right through the armor!"

"Stars damn it!" Jack rushed to get a bead on the wing, flicking from turret screen to turret screen, one on the Gerthtrude's belly going dark with a hail of sparks. "Just need a sec' for a bead…" Anger roiled under the calm facade the mechanic wore, his face wrinkled in a scowl. These fucks, these corporate sell-outs, had killed his rat. Jack hadn't… meant to be so vitriolic, he'd meant to just… grab the little Hux and shake answers from him… probably smack him for being reckless again. "Fuckin' rat. Jus' wanted to ask if'n you were stupid or a traitor…" Now he'd never know, and shooting down Whisper Box pilots was the only salve his temper would accept at the moment, a relief denied him by the frenzied maneuvers the wing seemed hell bent on tracing through the stars. "Gun for the beacon! We can jus' jump through and figure out where to go from there!"

"Aye!" Lix barked her frustration, twisting the Gerthtrude back towards their original flight plan, damn the consequences. "Here they come!"

"Fuckin' shit, they keep comin' from the belly!" Static burbled across the comms, the panel shuddering as Lix smacked the receiver with her tail. Of all the people who could have flashed across the screen, Helena was the last the Kux'lar expected.

"Y'all keep ya headin', yeah? Keepin' ya covered!" Helena's sleek shuttle whizzed by the Gerthtrude's cockpit with cannons ablaze, two of the three fighters spinning out of control while the third made the mistake of banking into Jack's field of fire. Flames whipped the cold of space before snuffing away with a sad flutter, drifting into the black, forgotten and burnt. "Close call, eh? Let's zip through the gate real quick! Don't know where it's goin' though."

"That was the plan, thanks for the assist!" Lix hissed, her tail whipping behind the captain's seat as the throttle slammed her into the cushions. A crash of metal and leather nearly took her eyes from the route, Helena's drive plumes darkening the viewport as more fighters launched from the Racer's Heart, each burning their engines' red to chase down the fleeing vessels. "Jack? Jack, talk to me. It sounds like my gunner just fell over."

Her only answer was a wheezing grumble.

"Jack!"

"Lix, stay on my tail, sweet tea! This gonna be tight!"

"Jack!"

"Fly… the fuckin' ship.." Weight pulled on Jack's eyelids. A blink felt longer than it should… Light danced across his face through the cockpit as exhaustion and blood loss came to cash the blank checks he'd been writing.

"Get up! I'm not losing you too!"

Closer, closer, closer… the ring was visible, ships flashing through the vibrating circle to parts unknown.

"Just need to sleep…"

"Jack! Jack, get the fuck up! Gnah!"

The last thing on Jack's mind, however, was listening to his scaly lady. No… years of fatigue had settled on his shoulders like the weight of… well… of a civilization avenged. Partly, at least. Glorious Anglea… Mo'Ona… just two people yet he felt like he'd lost so much more. The sight of Angela lying there, torn apart at the seams… Skrunkles message he'd been too tied up surviving to listen to…

Too much, even for him. Too much to stay awake for. Jack grinned as Lix passed through the ring, the stars vanishing in a flash of black and white. Of course she'd made it. Lix was a champion…

"Champion…"

Black.

Silence.

Bliss.

***

Lucidity never had more than a working relationship with Jack; lethargy and exhaustion were his closest companions. Today, however, the waking world crashed into the mechanic with the force of a burning wreckage. Or with the weight of a sleepy Kux'lar. The familiar discomfort of his own bed ached into his already sore back, yet the gentle warmth of Lix upon his chest was a balm upon what had been, in all eloquence, a really shitty day.

"Lix?" Jack croaked from a dry throat, her wiggly blob solidifying into the shape he knew and loved as his traitorous eyes finally opened.

"Jack," A wet line traced from his neck to his cheek… before fangs sank into his neck as gently as a Kux'lar could. "Prick, gnah! You worried the hell outta me."

"Guess you could call me a _jack_ass."

She bit him again.

"We made it, by the way." Lix wriggled, settling herself between his warm bulk and single remaining arm.

"Where did we make it to? Helena with us? Skrun- ah…" A sad warble drifted from Lix's maw. More than once that night, denial had gripped her; Maybe Mo'Ona had made it out? Maybe they were worrying over nothing? Maybe… but no, in a fit of desperation, she'd contacted the Whisper Box about his account and received a report of account closure due to failed life signs of the user.

"He didn't make it."

"Fuck… last thing I said to 'im was he was a traitor." Claws caressed the shadow of a beard he was growing. What could she say? Nothing came to mind. "Where is here, anyway?"

"Some station called Veras Three, we're a bit far from Koorka. Helena is out and about in the station, getting her bearings. Whole galaxy is twisted up, a bunch of rich guys bit it during the riots."

"Good… maybe not though. We need to get back to Koor-"

"We aren't going anywhere. Gerthtrude needs repairs and… and so do you. My man isn't going to go around with only one arm. Helena is looking for a doctor, you've got some internal bleeding meds are helping with but you need real attention."

"Yeah, need 'em both to hug ya. The guts just keep me fat." Jack sighed, pulling her head beneath his chin. A grin crossed his weathered face as she rewarded her mate with small licks to his neck.

"Yup. That's for later, though… now we just need to recover. Gonna put 'em all down- the League is not gonna die."

"Oh? You an' Helena got a plan?" For the first time since they'd landed, a razor-thin grin crawled across Lix's muzzle, her predatory pupils thinning to slits. "That's a sexy grin."

"I'm a sexy Kux'lar. And oh yeah, we have a plan." Scaled lips met fleshy ones as Lix ran her claws through Jack's short hair, gently guiding him back to sleep. There was so much to do, so much to consider and plan and organize. For now, though… for now, the only place she wanted to be was here; snuggled up to Jack in the depths of the Gerthtrude. Somewhere she didn't have to think about the chaos ripping the galaxy apart. That could be dealt with later. So many things… dealt with later. The most important thing at this moment was her mate, a thought that eased her anxiety and willed her to slumber in his arm.

The End

Thank you for reading Afterburner Aftercare, book two of Love Like Oil.

Until next time… to the stars.