//------------------------------// // In the Shadow of Verdence, pt. III // Story: Verdant Song // by Mixolydian Grey //------------------------------// Eikon awkwardly shifted his grip on his spear and followed after the rest of the flock. As much as he would have preferred to opt out, it was necessary that he tag along, this time. Kelantos needed to know how the flock behaved in his absence. He needed Eikon to gauge their loyalty. Kelantos had to wander around somewhere far away. He mentioned in the presence of others that he would be on the command module, but he gave no explanation. By giving no explanation, he invited suspicion and gossip. So Eikon watched and listened, from Chemlab to engineering. Eight of the oldest, slowest, and least interested stayed back in their base. There were a dozen hunters, not counting Eikon. For this hunt, they picked an adult female, more or less randomly. White coat, red mane. If she had been well fed, she would have been a fairly average size. Eikon had noticed how thin she was, before the hunt started. Phrygian had noticed as well, and he wasn’t happy about it. Or perhaps he was unhappy about something else, and his aggression was directed at anything that moved. Eikon kept a careful eye on him, always trying to keep that massive gray wingspan in sight. Eikon flapped his wings, trying not to fall behind. The mare probably hadn’t gotten far. Eikon had avoided attending the hunts as much as possible, but he could read surface hints and body language well enough. Usually the pony would become alert a bit faster. She had still been in a daze when they gave her a knife, told her the rules, and sent her off for her fifteen minute head start. But now, that fifteen minutes was over. The griffons moved silently through the dark halls of engineering. A few broke off; the usual tactic had some going wide, surrounding the prey to prevent escape. Eikon tried to keep as many as possible within sight, trying to watch and listen for any of the things they might only reveal in the absence of a distrusted leader. But none of the griffons voiced dissent. He did not observe trust or contentment in their place, though. They had accepted the inevitable and persisted in the routine they’d fallen into, the future denied any attention, the focus on past and present. Right now, they didn't need a leader, and they weren’t likely to start needing one any time soon, so they had no reason to waste effort thinking about one. Because there were none of the issues Kelantos was concerned with, Eikon had nothing to occupy his mind, nothing to distract himself from the prey’s inevitable suffering. He tried to focus on the present, cataloguing the details. There wasn’t much new information to process, so he went over things he’d already noted to be sure nothing had been missed. The griffons travelled light. Each had a spear, most had additional knives tucked in belts, and some wore pocketed vests. Most of the griffons left their belongings on Chemlab. A good sign, Kelantos once remarked. They still trust each other enough to leave things unattended. But how much did they trust Kelantos? None of them had called him tercel for months; there was no need to. Of what use was a leader if there was no goal to be reached? The old honorific had been used as Kelantos delivered them from an immediate threat, but fell away as time passed. At present, there weren’t enough hints in their body language to piece together the thoughts within. Phrygian was silent. He stretched his wings out, like a wide gray wall of feathers, giving a slow flap. His wingtips grazed the walls. After the hunt, perhaps. Eikon had a suspicion that Phrygian would be rather dissatisfied with their choice of prey this time, but that dissatisfaction would likely work out in Eikon’s favor… it would irritate Phrygian enough that he’d express some kind of sentiment, instead of the unreadable stoicism now displayed. As Eikon scanned across the others, noting their appearance, listening for anything of interest, he made a horrible error… eye contact. Dorian smirked, then gave a small flap of his wings, moving closer so they could talk quietly. The party was spread enough that they could whisper and only the nearest would hear. “Looking for something?” he asked. “Not in particular,” Eikon mumbled, looking straight ahead. Dorian drifted forward just enough to be in his peripheral vision, a reddish-orange blur right on the edge. “I am,” he said. “And what might that be?” Eikon idly glanced over the length of his spear. “Things of interest.” “Have you found anything?” “No, but,” Dorian smiled, “sometimes, finding nothing is something.” Eikon sighed. “Of all the activities you could occupy yourself with, why must you choose to speak to me in riddles?” “Are you nervous?” Eikon finally glanced over at him. “Why would I be nervous?” “The puppetmaster disappeared into the rafters above the stage,” Dorian whispered. “The strings have disappeared — not sure if they're still attached.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Eikon gave a subtle motion of his wings, putting a few more inches between them. Dorian smiled. Perhaps Dorian was just speaking in ambiguities, like a fortune teller, the vague statements interpreted more specifically than they were intended and giving the impression of accurate prediction. He hadn’t mentioned Kelantos specifically. Was that the sort of thing Kelantos was worried about? Dorian wasn’t anything like the rest of them; his opinions probably weren’t even close to those of the others. He was an unknown quantity. And not only was the value unknown, but Eikon wasn’t even sure of the units of measurement. “Are you ready?” Dorian asked, gesturing at Eikon's spear. It was a very simple weapon. Not elegantly carved like the others, not any handmade components. He'd simply gone to the assembly labs and printed a fiberglass spear from a basic model, back when the fabricators were well stocked. He hadn't trained with it, he couldn't throw with any modicum of accuracy, and he certainly couldn't stand up to any of the others in a sparring match. Worst of all, he couldn't tell if his inexperience was obvious or not. “I suppose so.” Eikon really wasn’t. Dorian smiled again. Eikon noted the confidence. Dorian was the only one who didn't use a spear. A long, thin sword was sheathed at his hip. A rapier, an ancient weapon that Eikon couldn’t recall ever seeing a griffon use. Not even Dorian, now that he thought about it. But it was a safe bet that Dorian knew how to use it, and it was probably not a good idea to test that theory in a sparring match later. In the brief moments that Dorian had distracted him, Eikon lost track of three of the other griffons. He tried not to make his irritation apparent. They probably wouldn’t have let anything slip, anyway. This was a hunt, not a dinner party. Another griffon broke off, but he saw this one. Rasmus turned down a hallway that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. That one was one he should be watching. But Phrygian was still up ahead, proceeding in the same direction through a more central hallway. Phrygian was the bigger threat, but Rasmus was more likely to talk. Eikon gripped his spear harder. He hated having to make quick decisions like this. Just as Eikon was about to turn into a side passage to keep with Rasmus, Dorian did exactly that, leaving without a word. Eikon tried not to let his suspicion show. Now that he thought about it, it seemed that Dorian was another he should be keeping an eye on. Kelantos hadn’t given specific names, just told Eikon to watch and listen and collect an impression of the flock’s attitude. Eikon had noted that within the flock, about half of them would passively go along with the other half, and within the second half were individuals about four times as cunning as they wanted him to believe. At the very least, they still thought he was part of the first half, and they should expect that he would be open to persuasion if one happened to be looking to stage another mutiny. Eikon stayed with the main party as they continued their descent into the darkness. It was no use going after Dorian and Rasmus now; they would disappear. The griffons had chosen engineering for its poorly lit, maze-like structure. It gave the prey places to run and hide, but ultimately, there were only a handful of ways back to the axis and the rest of the ship, and a few of them could easily cut off the escape routes. There wasn’t anything back here to be concerned about the prey having access to. The incident had completely destroyed the aft bridge. The reactors and Alcubierre drive were still sealed off behind impenetrable security doors. The griffons had tried and failed to break in. If they couldn’t, no lone pony had a chance, least of all that frail little mare. She probably hadn’t even gotten that far. A few times, the prey just… gave up. Sometimes they begged for mercy. Even after all the conflict, they still thought there was actually a chance of reconciliation… Eikon suppressed a sigh. He might be able to avoid being near her when they caught her. But he couldn't look like he was trying to avoid her, else the others would be suspicious. And he couldn’t fail to watch Phrygian now that Dorian and Rasmus were gone. He followed Phrygian to an area of engineering where one of the larger pieces of the asteroid debris had torn a hole through the ship. The outermost hull had been patched up, good as new, but the interior was scarred with a gash that cut through three or four decks. It was dark and twisted, like some kind of abyssal canyon from Tartarus, a cave of jagged metal. Phrygian hung in the air at the edge of the topmost deck, looking down. Eikon kept his distance. He caught sight of other hunters. Two… three… There were several on the other side of the gash. The mare must have gone down. But they hesitated. Heads turned, glances were exchanged. Something was wrong. A wave of vertigo came over Eikon. That happened sometimes in zero-g when the brain couldn’t quite keep its location straight, without gravity pulling on the inner ear. The artificial magnetosphere usually helped, but focusing on it only made things worse. “Listen,” someone whispered. Eikon heard it, now. He had thought it was just an air filter or some other machinery humming in the distance, some irrelevant environmental noise filtered out without a thought. But now that he focused his attention on it, he heard the rumbling beneath them. He looked across and saw how the griffons seemed to stay in the same relative locations, but their formation moved within the halls, in perfect unison. The ship was moving. Or, it had been. Just as he realized what was happening, it stopped, but there was no mistaking what had just occurred. He caught sight of Dorian and Rasmus across the gap. Dorian’s eyes twinkled in the faint light, opened wide in surprise. Eikon found subtle satisfaction in the knowledge that Dorian hadn’t been expecting that. Phrygian growled something under his breath, then called out louder, “Forget the game. We have to stop her.” Her? The mare? The aft bridge didn’t even exist anymore, and if it did, almost all of the essential systems were locked out. The engines could only be controlled from the bridge or with the captain’s personal authorization, a code that had been lost in the mutiny when most of the command staff were killed. And even if she somehow had the codes, it would have taken hours to give and receive the maneuver information verbally through the intercom. “It wasn’t her,” Eikon said, just as the others were beginning to move out. Phrygian held up a hand, called out to the others to wait a moment. They did. All eyes glowed in the faint light as they turned to Eikon. “What?” Phrygian growled. “The aft bridge is gone.” “She must have found the captain’s authorization codes, then. Or maybe she knew all along.” Phrygian spread his wings. He and the others would bolt in a matter of seconds. There was too much at stake to discuss it before acting. “She’s had thirty minutes at most to get a status report on the ship, its trajectory, the engines, and then verbally run through the calculations,” Eikon said. Phrygian stared at him. Eikon swallowed, his throat tightening. “This maneuver was set from the main bridge.” He received a number of scowls. Phrygian gripped his spear with both hands, wringing the shaft as if he might be able to squeeze the truth out of  it. Phrygian glanced down, then back at Eikon. “There are enough of us to split up. There couldn’t be anything threatening enough on the bridge that it would take all of us.” “Something significant is happening, and we don’t know what,” Eikon said. The words just sort of fell out of his beak. He probably should have stopped, but it was a little late for that. “It’s not just a distraction from the hunt; it might change everything.” “Which is why only three or four should stay,” Phrygian said. He looked across the gap, noting the others. “Dorian, Rasmus, you’re quick and stealthy.” It wasn’t exactly a command, but the suggestion was strong. They nodded. Phrygian turned back to Eikon. “You too.” “Why me?” “I didn’t even notice you until you said something.” Phrygian gave a faint smirk. Then he straightened up, gaze drifting into the hall behind Eikon, as if he were about to address the others.  Just as Phrygian opened his beak, the ship roared, drives rammed to full throttle almost instantly. The griffons crashed to the floor. Or, more accurately, the floor crashed into them. The entire lexicon of griffon curses was muttered among them. Phrygian thrust the blunt end of his spear against the floor and stood. “To the bridge. Now.” They took off. To the bridge… where Kelantos was. Eikon stood there, legs wanting to tremble as he realized what they might think. He forced himself to stand still, forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly. By Gryphus and the Ascended, he’d just… He’d just sent Phrygian and half the flock after Kelantos. Who else was on the bridge? No one that they knew of. Maybe that griffon and pony that Kelantos suspected were still out there, but most of the griffons thought that was ridiculous, seeing no trace of those two. Eikon had noted subtle changes to engineering, here and there, things that the griffons hadn’t done. There were status readouts that changed for no apparent reason, but that could also be explained by glitches in the system. They would think Kelantos had done it. He just eliminated the mare, the only other possibility. If not for the visceral reality, his heart pounding in his chest, his trembling hands almost failing to keep hold of his spear, he could have thought it a dream. But he was awake, and this was real. There were still too many unanswered questions. His mind swarmed with the questions, things he couldn’t answer from known hints. Who moved the ship? Where? Why? How had they repaired it enough? He shook his head. If the ship was going anywhere but home, it didn’t matter. They’d still be adrift, just with artificial gravity. If the ship was going back to Equus, though… The griffons couldn’t go home, not now. That road lead to death, punishment for their crimes. The flock had accepted that fate and had coped with it, with hunts and sparring and other recreation. The isolation hadn’t worn them away into complete insanity, yet. They knew they couldn’t go home, and had stopped any attempts to do so. But Kelantos didn’t think like the rest. Maybe he had done it against their wishes, and Eikon wasn’t here to… Gryphus. Eikon inhaled sharply. Maybe the whole reason he was here watching them was because Kelantos knew they would react, and he wanted to know how. It was strange that Eikon would just randomly be told to go along with a hunt, and pay attention to loyalty, of all things… And now he had just made Kelantos’ plans much more difficult. Their ship was set on a course for inevitable death, and the griffons had their prime suspect. Maybe there were some other survivors, as of yet unnoticed by the rest of the flock. Maybe that mare really had done this, and Eikon had just ruined everything. He took a shaky breath, trying to decide what to do. The mare was inconsequential. If it was her fault, she had already done her damage, and couldn’t be a further threat. They could find that out and come back for her. All other roads led to the main bridge, possibly to Kelantos who was near that area. Dorian crossed the gap with a flap of his wings and landed, taking a few more steps and stopping next to Eikon. “I was going to ask if you would finish the hunt or head for the bridge, but I suppose standing there and waiting for something to happen is a valid option.” Rasmus was still on the other side of the gap. “I’m thinking,” Eikon muttered. “You don’t know what’s happening, do you?” Eikon turned and glared at Dorian. Seeing the other’s smirk only irritated him further. “No, I don’t. Do you know something?” “Regarding the ship? No. But I do know why you don’t know.” “What?” Eikon spat. He was sick of the riddles and word play. He saw the glinting tip of Dorian’s rapier drifting through a faint beam of light. Eikon gripped his spear tighter. “You made the worst mistake an observer can make,” Dorian said, backing away. “You altered the system you were trying to observe.” Dorian turned completely and surveyed the drop to the decks below. After a few moments, he looked at Rasmus and the two seemed to communicate something. They leapt down, using their wings to slow the fall. Did he know? Eikon hadn’t kept it a secret, but neither had he made it obvious that he was acting as a set of eyes and ears for another. Eikon clenched his beak. There weren’t enough hints. He couldn’t read Dorian. He hated when there weren’t enough hints to figure something — or someone — out. But Dorian wasn’t the only question that needed answering. Eikon could go for the bridge. Whatever was happening to the ship was more important than those two. But Kelantos was already on the command module, supposedly. Eikon wouldn’t be of much help, there. Dorian and Rasmus, two of the most important ones to watch out for… they were right here, he had a perfectly valid reason for being with them, and recent events would prompt them to discuss things they might not normally discuss. Eikon ran to the gap and leapt down after them. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. It was even darker down there. But he found them soon enough. Dorian and Rasmus had split up, each taking a different hallway. Eikon scowled. Of course they’d do that. He couldn’t just stalk one. Not only was his observation ruined, but he suspected that they’d probably double back and head for the bridge without him, or something. Unless the mare was close by, in which case, they’d have to deal with her first. He didn’t particularly want to kill anything, but it might be a necessary tactic. He tried to pick a hallway that looked like it would go between the two that Dorian and Rasmus had chosen. It led away from the gap, twisting around deformed rooms that hummed with machinery, ominous in the blackness the way a simple tree in the daytime became strangely disconcerting by night. The drives still rumbled below all, though, an almost omnipresent noise occupying lower frequencies. He heard a click, not far. Its sharpness stood out against the background noise. He quickened his pace as much as he could without fear of running into things. It was easy to avoid tripping if he spread his wings. It wasn’t as easy to avoid lacerations from all the debris that had fallen to the floor. Coming to an area that was more or less where he guessed the click had come from, he stopped and listened. It could have just been things shifting across the floor as the ship made subtle alterations to its course. He listened and tried to block out the whispers of the ship as machinery ebbed and flowed. There weren’t any other sounds quite like the click. Just as he was about to move on, he held his breath and listened even more carefully. The machinery shouldn’t rise and fall like that, he realized. It should be a more constant hum. There was a faint periodic hiss of slightly oscillating timbre, roughly a second between each sound. Something nearby was breathing. When he looked again, he saw her. The mare had tucked herself into a pile of debris and was trying as hard as she could to be still and quiet. To her credit, Eikon would have missed her if not for the first sound that led him to pay more attention to this area. She saw him and froze. He gripped his spear. An image flashed through his mind. What if he missed, and she didn’t die right away? It was easy enough to end a life when it was analogous to flipping a switch, but when he actually stood there, spear in hand, and the visceral reality presented itself, it wasn’t quite so black and white. Death might be inevitable, but suffering was not. And Eikon, being a griffon of heightened perception, was terrified of pain. He stared at her for a while. She didn’t move. Maybe she was too tired to run. Perhaps she thought that he was considering sparing her, and she was afraid of doing anything to change his mind. If he could do it quickly, he’d have something to bring Dorian and Rasmus together with him. Even if he failed to do it quickly, that would still be accomplished. Even if he just shouted something out, they’d hear. They should hear. His eyes drifted as he listened, turning his attention not to the mare but to the other griffons. Either they were silently hunting as usual, or they were gone. But they weren’t in sight, and with all the environmental noise, they probably weren’t within hearing range, either. They had probably gone for the bridge, leaving him behind so he couldn’t ‘spy’ on them. He should have headed that way. Eikon looked at the mare again. If not for the way her sides expanded and contracted with each breath, he could have thought her a statue, or a ghost. At the moment, she was helpless. Furthermore, she represented zero threat to the griffons. “Most of us have headed for the command module,” he said. “There are two others who might still be down here. They’ll kill you on sight.” She watched him intently, but gave no sign of understanding. Eikon glanced down. “And I’d have to kill you if I was seen with you.” He turned and sighed, shifting his grip on his spear. “So try not to be seen.” — — — As Lennox initiated the burn, a brief countdown on the screen gave him time to put his rear paws and a hand to the floor, bracing himself. The ship jolted as the engines flared, acceleration slamming upward with nine point eight one meters per second squared of acceleration. All the power of Equus’ gravity in an instant. His legs buckled under rediscovered weight. Every muscle tensed. Just as he was regaining his sensation of up and remembering how to stand on his rear paws, some vital bone deep within the skeleton of the ship palpably crumbled. There was a split second of weightlessness before before the engineering module slammed into the rest of the ship. The floor jumped upward, throwing Lennox’s legs out from under him as rumbling vibrated through his chest. NavCom shrieked out a panicked trill. They turned off course. Numerical readouts flashed across the screen at a speed only machines could process. A subtle bump pushed Lennox to the side as the reaction control thrusters kicked in, using what little fuel they had left to strain against the ship, trying to keep it oriented in the right direction. He hesitated for a second, trying to pull breath into a tightened rib cage. Adrenaline lit fire to his veins, masking any hint of pain, clouding his perception. He listened to the wailing of the computers, barely aware of what they were communicating. It reminded him of the launchpad accidents back on Equus. Those great white monuments to arrogance stood gleaming in the sun, spires that defied God and Physics, daring Gravity to hold them down. An eruption of smoke and fire would throw off the weight of their blasphemy for a time, but then the trajectory would start tilting. Even a passive observer’s heart rate would pick up, hints of adrenaline tingling through their stomach. Their mind would give up its prideful admiration of aeronautic dominance, its marvel at its own superiority. It would chant a new incantation: no, no, straighten out, get back on course, those cosmonauts have families. But the tilt would continue, heedless of prayers from those who know the names of gods only when their own devices have failed them. The rocket would burn and disintegrate. He was aboard one of those, now. New audio notifications. The computer recalculated. It thought it would still be able to salvage the maneuver with an increase in fuel consumption. Groaning metal cast doubt. Lennox pulled himself up by the railing and stumbled over to the security station, keeping some of his weight on the railing. The words of the Prayer of Supplication ran through his head… Great Gryphus divine, may we stand as monuments to your glory… He could almost hear his father’s voice from in the control room when the Vasari had tilted off course. “Lennox,” Solstice said, his voice a pinched rasp. All he said was Lennox’s name. The tone conveyed the cry for help. The ship’s maneuver was up to NavCom. Lennox couldn’t possibly be of any assistance to a quantum processor. He turned his attention to SecCom. The security cameras were a jumbled mess, but he found Solstice easily enough. Solstice was on his back, his helmet shattered. From the way his right foreleg was twisted, it had to be broken. Dark blood matted his mint-green mane and stained the collar of his suit. Bits of glass and smaller drops of blood dotted the floor around him. Kelantos stood over him, wings spread, regaining his balance. “I see,” Lennox said. Stillness ached in his muscles; he wanted to run, to fight. His wings tingled. The hallway was sealed off, though. There was no easy way for Lennox to reach them without exposing the bridge and the controls within. SecCom didn’t have any defensive systems. It could open and close doors. Damn naive ponies. Brilliant idea, building a security system that didn’t actually secure anything. If he was creative, he could use SecCom to open a series of doors to the nearest airlock. But that would kill both of them. Even if Lennox unsealed the bridge and went out there, he was unarmed and untrained. He’d just be another target. And until the Alcubierre drive kicked in and the ship was generating a warp field, set on a stable course home that wouldn’t require the careful ministration of a navigational engineer, Lennox was a vital asset and he needed to survive to make sure everything worked. Solstice had fixed the engines. His job was done. The remaining time in the maneuver was running out. Lennox made one final glance over the options available. There was no reasonable course of action he could take to assist Solstice without risking their priorities. Making his way back over to the navigational computer, his legs a bit more stable, he set his attention on the Alcubierre field generator. He pulled up the Alcubierre controllers and simulators, borrowing some of NavCom’s quantum processor's power to calculate the warp field parameters. A few warnings popped up, violations of protocol. Alcubierre field not to be engaged when ship is oriented prograde. In case of the statistically impossible event that an asteroid was in your way when the field disengaged, better to be traveling aft first. It would be easier to decelerate, absorb the impact, or fire the nukes. The Verdence system was much younger than Celeste, and still had many asteroids in the system that hadn’t yet been picked up by planets. There was a whole network of defense satellites in place around the planet Verdence. NavCom gave him his numbers. A two week warp, assuming all available power was diverted to the Alcubierre drive. Minutes still remained in the current burn. Lennox queued the Alcubierre drive to activate as soon as the current maneuver was completed. He still needed to wait to make sure it came online. A series of flashes on the security feeds grabbed Lennox’s attention. The griffons had reached the command module, and were making their way up the lower decks. Nearer the bridge, Kelantos still stood over Solstice. The griffon’s back was to the camera. He was looking at something in his hand, but Lennox couldn’t see. There was a new wound in the middle of Solstice’s stomach. Kelantos’ spear dripped blood. Lennox clenched his beak. He didn’t want to just toss aside Solstice like an unneeded tool, but he couldn’t risk fifty lives to save one. He’d already concluded that; why couldn’t he stop going over it? The question arose again and again, the challenge answered the same way each time. He turned his attention back to navigation, forcing himself to focus on the objective. Getting home was all that mattered. Solstice would eagerly choose to sacrifice himself to that end. The computer made small adjustments here and there, maintaining a mostly stable burn. It would correct the course with more accuracy as it neared Equus. A circular band on NavCom’s trajectory diagram elongated, stretching out to an ellipse as the Verdant Song accelerated. When it reached escape velocity, the ellipse snapped open, tracing an arc from the Verdence system out into the galaxy, passing the Celeste system. The arc straightened and inched closer to Celeste, closer to being caught in the heliosphere where the solar wind would crush the Alcubierre field. They were just close enough to the edge of the Verdence system that the field would be able to form. It was almost fortunate that they hadn’t arrived closer to Verdence, because then they’d be stuck too far from the planet to get home, but also too close to Verdence’s sun to warp away. With every second, it seemed more likely that the ship would be able to make the voyage. And with every second, Solstice lost blood. At the security station, one camera feed still showed the stallion, lying on his back in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. “Solstice?” Lennox whispered. The communicator still worked. Solstice was still alive. Lennox could see the stallion’s chest rise and fall, and he could hear the background noise. “Solstice?” Lennox repeated, clenching a fist. “Your companion is incapacitated,” the griffon’s deep voice answered. “I don’t appreciate the assassination attempt.” Kelantos was still there in view of the same camera he’d been standing near. He stood still, holding Solstice’s communicator. The other griffons continued their ascent. They were armed with spears, having been interrupted in the midst of a hunt, and not having time to go find more modern weaponry. If Lennox still had claws, his palms would have bled as he squeezed both hands into fists. There wasn’t anything… no weapons, no security systems… Solstice had the only gun, but that was gone. Lennox opened his beak to say something, but stopped himself. No words would change anything. Kelantos wasn’t an ally simply because he allowed Lennox and Solstice to work, choosing not to hunt them down. The griffons still would have killed them on sight. Kelantos was just trying to distract him, and he was allowing it to work. Seconds left in the countdown. Lennox crouched down and grabbed the railing. NavCom beeped. The pained cries of architecture pushed far beyond recommended limits ceased suddenly, the wounded ship enduring the last of the maneuver. As the audible rumbling cut out, the artificial gravity did as well, and Lennox was in zero-g again. He threw himself across the room, towards the door. A sudden dizziness swept over him. The Alcubierre field. He felt a pressure that was both inside and outside of his head. It expanded, severely disorienting for a moment, before it seemed to settle into place. He reached the door. That was it. Checkmate. The game was over, and the only way out was to flip the board and scatter the pieces. Only the destruction of the ship would stop it, and even Kelantos wouldn’t go that far… not if it meant suicide. Lennox slipped through the doorway and it slammed shut behind him, locking off the bridge until the captain personally unlocked it. Since the captain was dead, it was locked until a rescue party tore the ship apart. Lennox pushed off of the sealed door behind him, coasting down the hallway. With Kelantos on the opposite side of the command module and the other griffons still a few decks below, he could escape if he was quick. If not — the ship would still arrive. Governments would still find it and figure out what happened, and possibly save the hostages somehow. He came to a corner and stopped, grabbing a support bar. Something clacked on the ceiling above him. Solstice’s pistol. It bounced off the ceiling and tumbled back in slow motion. Lennox reached out and grabbed the hoof band, tilting it around to investigate. Two shots left. How was this here? It couldn’t have drifted almost two hundred meters. He peeked around the corner, instantly jerking his head back. Kelantos hovered in the air, holding Solstice in one hand and a spear in the other. The wrong door. Lennox pressed back against the wall, heart instantly pounding. His eyes darted around. No — there was no mistake. The markings on the wall were correct. How had Kelantos, carrying a limp body, gotten on the other side of the bridge that fast? Lennox tried to quiet his breathing and listen. He slipped his hand through the pistol’s hoof band, gripping it in the awkward alternative way intended for fingers. He had been watching Kelantos the whole time. Kelantos hadn’t moved from that spot. Had he learned to tinker with camera feeds? Did he plan this out, down to the exact spot where he would stand, and disrupt the cameras ahead of time? No, that wasn’t the best option. Kelantos always chose the best option… “He tampered with the—” Solstice tried to cough out something to Lennox, but the voice cut off. Kelantos had tampered with the security feeds? Of course. Swap the labels on the cameras, mix up the system…. All the hallways looked alike. No one would notice that hallway x had swapped places with hallway y. Lennox hesitated. He glanced around the corner again, just long enough to register Kelantos in his vision. Kelantos had clamped a hand around the stallion’s throat. Lennox reached out a hand to grab one of the support bars on the wall. A nervous finger slipped around and placed itself on the gun’s trigger. “Your friend appears to be having some difficulty breathing,” Kelantos called out. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you started negotiating soon.” It was just stalling. He was stalling, trying to keep Lennox in place while the other griffons approached. Kelantos wasn't actually a direct threat at the moment. If he was, he would be attacking instead of offering sarcasm. Lennox let himself float into the hall, eyes darting around and picking up every detail in an instant. Straight past Kelantos was a door into the command module’s crew quarters. The halls in there were like a maze. Lennox could lose the incoming griffons in there, if he could get past this one first. He leveled the gun at Kelantos. “Back up,” Lennox ordered. “Let go of the stallion. There will be no negotiation.” Kelantos blinked. “Please note the hostage,” he said slowly. “Recall the location of a pony’s carotid artery, and note the location of my talons.” “Your reflexes are not faster than bullets.” Solstice wheezed as the hand around his throat slackened slightly. Flecks of blood fell away from his wounds, the globules wobbling until they spattered on the walls and floor. In zero-g, the blood didn’t run or drip, it just collected around the wound, held together by surface tension. There was a sheath of blood around Solstice’s chest and Kelantos’ arm, dark and shimmering in the light. It visibly expanded as Lennox watched. It had to be some deep puncture wound in his chest. Solstice would struggle to survive that even in a hospital. “The sad thing,” Kelantos said, “is that you could have avoided this conflict and still gotten the ship home if you had listened to me. We could have avoided the massacre.” Something made a noise behind Lennox. The other griffons. Kelantos ducked behind Solstice and flared his wings, advancing. They had him surrounded. The only way out… Solstice struggled. Kelantos held a firm grip on him, and the stallion’s writhing was futile. He was helplessly pushed forward, a meat shield protecting the incoming griffon. Lennox and Solstice briefly made eye contact. Not enough time to try and parse whatever the stallion’s gaze communicated. Lennox fired. Two pings echoed from the end of the hall as the bullets ricocheted at the far end. For a heartbeat, Lennox was afraid that he had missed. But both shots had hit their target and exited, a comet’s tail of blood droplets hanging in their wake. Kelantos released his grip, his eyes going wide. Lennox kicked off of the wall behind and drifted forward, unable to use the wings still stuffed into that gods-damned suit. Free of the griffon, Solstice drifted past, two new wounds added to the dozens his body already sustained. “Nice shot.” He tried to smile, then took a labored breath and whispered something more, but it was hard to discern words from the wheezing and sputtering. Holly’s name was in there somewhere. If they had been in a safe place, Lennox might have been able to press a few meaningful phrases out of him. He continued past Solstice, grabbing a bar along the wall and pulling himself along at a greater speed. Lennox glanced back briefly, looking for any pursuers. As he did so, claws latched into his shoulder, catching the flesh for a moment before momentum spun him and pulled him free. He left a handful of bloody feathers behind. Kelantos growled. The gun was empty and griffons were coming. Lennox couldn’t stop to finish the job. He grabbed the next support bars and threw himself down the hall, regaining speed. The sounds of pursuers faded behind him as he darted through the twisting corridors of the crew quarters, taking advantage of every turn or maintenance tunnel that could possibly throw them off. The immediate pursuit had already lost track of him, and he’d be long gone before they could muster any organized hunt. Several minutes later, Lennox ducked around a corner and waited, catching his breath in a small room of no consequence on the bottommost deck of the command module. After his breathing slowed enough to be quiet, he listened. All he heard was the ringing in his ears. He held his breath, straining to hear the slightest noise. The ship was soundless. An airlock connecting to the central axis would be nearby. He could make his way to his little hideout and figure out what to do next. The wound in his shoulder needed to be cared for. He looked around. Nothing organic moved, just the debris that hung in the air, tombstones to keep him company. The journey back to his hideout was quieter than it usually was.