> Starbrought
>  by Ethereal Cerberus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue - The Night of the Falling Skies
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





Twilight Sparkle was practically giddy with excitement. Tonight was the first night in over a millenium that the Night of the Falling Skies would be visible in Equestria, and she was determined to have everything to record the historic moment with her.  

The lavender-coated unicorn dashed all over the library she called home, triple-checking her double-checks to make sure that she had gathered everything. A long roll of parchment laid unfurled on a table in the center of the main room of the library, covered in numerous check marks to remind Twilight what she had already done and no longer needed to worry about. Next to the table was a small, red wagon filled with various pieces of star-gazing equipment, cameras, and star charts. 

Spike's head turned back and forth as he followed Twilight's pacing, his eyes glazed over. He had been ready to meet up with their friends on the outskirts of Ponyville for at least half an hour at this point, whereas Twilight had managed to somehow convince herself that she had overlooked something in her preparations. With a sigh, the young dragon hopped off of the table that sat in the library's center and strode into the kitchen set off to the side of the main room. Knowing Twilight as he did, she would be at least another five or ten minutes before she was positive that she hadn't overlooked anything. That, of course, meant that he had just enough time to snack on some of the sapphires still remaining in the icebox from the recent Sapphire Season.

His claws were mere inches away from opening the icebox and retrieving the glorious treat awaiting him within when a faint magenta aura surrounded him. Spike let out a groan as he was levitated out of the kitchen. Twilight gave him an apologetic smile as she hooked the wagon up to her saddlebags.

"Come on, Spike," the unicorn said in a hurried tone. "We need to hurry, or we're going to be late."

So close... The dragon lamented, staring longingly back towards the kitchen before Twilight magicked the door to the library shut behind him. "Don't worry, my sweets," he said, voice full of forced sorrow, "I'll be back for you, I promise!"

Twilight rolled her eyes, silently wondering why Spike felt the need to be over-dramatic when it came to his being deprived a snack. If she had to take a guess, her number one assistant was taking lesson from a certain white-coated unicorn.

It didn't take the two of them long to reach the tallest hill near Ponyville. The hill itself would be the prime location for watching the Night of the Falling Skies as no treetops (save for those along the edge of the Everfree Forest) obscured the skyline and no buildings in Ponyville were close enough to serve as an obstruction to the upcoming spectacle.

To Twilight's disappointment and mild frustration, she and Spike were the last of their friends to arrive. Rarity was in the process of arranging the large picnic blanket and pillows she had brought along for all of them to lounge on in a visually appealing manner. Pinkie Pie was somehow managing to unload an impossibly large amount of baked goods from within a small picnic basket for snacks. All it took was a quick glance, and Twilight determined that the volume of baked goods currently out on the blanket could not have possibly fit into the basket, and Pinkie didn't even seem to be halfway done.

Applejack and Fluttershy were off to the side cheering along with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle as they watched Rainbow Dash attempt to help Scootaloo improve at flying. Though, from what Twilight could tell, Scootaloo seemed to be more excited about the fact that Rainbow Dash was the one helping her than she was about actually learning, which resulted in the orange-coated filly crashing back to the ground frequently. 

Spike leapt off of Twilight's back before she had even finished pulling her wagon laden down with her equipment up the hill and ran over to Rarity to assist her in any way he could. Twilight let out a small chuckle as she watched the dragon rush off.
It was adorable how he fawned over Rarity sometimes.

"Howdy there, Twi!" Applejack called out as she took notice of the unicorn mare's arrival. "Need any help there with your cart of... whatever it is you brought?" The blonde-maned pony cocked her head to the side a bit as she glanced over Twilight's wagon. 

Twilight gave her friend an appreciative smile as she magically unhooked herself from the cart. "I would be very grateful if you did." 

"So what's with all this stuff?" Applejack asked as she lifted one of three telescopes Twilight had brought along. "Do you really need all of this just to watch a meteor shower?"

"Oh, it's not just any old meteor shower, Applejack." Twilight's voice quickly developed a lecturer's tone as she began setting up her equipment. "The Night of the Falling Skies hasn't happened in Equestria for over a millenium! Only the Princesses have been able to see it before now. There aren't even detailed records about the last one that I can find!"

Applejack chuckled as her friend continued to ramble on about what an opportunity tonight was going to be and how glad she was that all of them could be there together to share them. This wasn't the first time Applejack had heard this little speech from the giddy unicorn. In fact, over the past two or so weeks, it had been all Twilight had been able to talk about. It was always 'Night of the Falling Skies this' and 'Night of the Falling Skies that' whenever the farm mare had an opportunity to speak with her. 

Even though Twilight had already talked this night to death, Applejack couldn't help but feel more than a little excited. Twilight was right, tonight really was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she was more than grateful that she could share this night with her friends. 

"Twilight! Applejack!" The pair turned their head towards Rarity as she called out to them. "Won't you two join us?" 

The white-coated unicorn gestured at the spread of food laid out on the picnic basket. Around her, the others had already started eating while talking animatedly about what they thought tonight was going to be like. Applejack turned toward Twilight and tilted her head towards the food, silently asking her if she was going to join the rest of them.

"I will in a minute," Twilight promised as she made minute adjustments to the angle of one telescope. "I just need to make sure that these are all in position to recor-" Her words were cut short as a pale blue aura surrounded her body and lifted her into the air. 

"Darling, take a moment to relax." Rarity gave her a soft smile. Twilight returned the gesture with a small scowl as she was set down on the blanket. "Look, the sun hasn't even set yet. There will still be time for you to set up your equipment later. But right now, we're enjoying a meal and it isn't going to be the same if you're off doing your own thing."

"I suppose you're right." Twilight's scowl vanished as she conceded, giving her friend a small smile. "I'm just really excited about tonight."

"And who can blame you?" Rainbow Dash asked through a mouthful of cookies. "From what you've told us, this is going to be the most awesome-tastic meteor shower ever!"

"It's more than just a meteor shower, Rainbow." Twilight magicked a hay and oats sandwich over to her as she spoke. "The Night of the Falling Skies only happens when Princess Luna uses her magic to bring the meteors to Equestria."

"Then what's so special about that?" The pegasus asked, disappointment obvious in her tone.

"When the Princess uses her magic to bring the meteors here, the meteors absorb some of her magic  and they can paint the night sky with all sorts of wonderful colors." The lavender mare's eyes shone with excitement. "Supposedly, there's nothing else like it."

"So it's kinda like me then?" Rainbow Dash proudly flared out her wings and struck a dramatic pose. Applejack and Rarity rolled their eyes in unison. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy giggled at Rainbow Dash's antics.

"I don't see how a meteor shower can be like you, Dashie," Pinkie said through her giggles. "I mean, meteors are big space rocks, right? And you’re not big, you’re small. And rocks are heavy and hard, but you’re a pegasus, so you’re light and soft. And there are thousands of meteors, but only one you. There aren’t thousands of you anywhere, more than one Rainbow Dash would just be silly.” Rainbow Dash’s only response was a very confused blink as Pinkie shoved three cupcakes into her mouth, swallowed them whole and spat the wrappers back out shaped like a swan.

“How does she do that?” Sweetie Belle whispered to her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders, both of whom shrugged in response.

“Who cares?” Scootaloo said abruptly. “Do you girls know what tonight is?” The orange-coated pegasus was met with a pair of deadpanned stares.

“It’s all everpony’s been talking about for the last week, Scootaloo,” Applebloom reminded her. “Where have you been?”

“That’s not what I mean!” Scootaloo groaned. “The Princess is bringing rocks from space to Equestria, right?” Applebloom and Sweetie Belle both nodded, wondering where their mostly-flightless friend was going with this. “What if she accidentally brings…” Scootaloo shifted her eyes suspiciously back and forth, taking a long pause for dramatic effect, “… aliens?!”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about aliens, Scootaloo,” Twilight said with a chuckle. “Even though there might be other forms of life out there in the universe, the odds of them ever finding us are the same as trying to find one specific drop of water in the ocean.”

“So, you're saying there are aliens out there?”

“There very well could be. But we have no way of finding out for-”

“Like I said,” Scootaloo continued on proudly, interrupting another explanation from Twilight, “the Princess could accidentally bring aliens! How cool would that be?”

“I don’t think it would be ‘cool’ at all,” Fluttershy chimed in. “The aliens in all the stories I’ve read have been scary and mean.”

“Scary and mean, huh?” Applebloom repeated. “Then if the Princess does bring aliens…”

“Which she won’t,” Twilight muttered under her breath.

“…then we might get cutie marks in alien catching! And we’d be heroes!” Applebloom cried out.

Scootaloo flashed her friends a grin. “My thoughts exactly."

The other six ponies all giggled at the girls’ enthusiasm, but Pinkie’s laughter was cut short as her mane began to vibrate on its own. Her right ear flopped down against her head and remained there while her left ear twitched violently. Without warning, the pink-coated mare’s legs all folded beneath her and she fell with a thump to the ground.

“Oh my! Are you alright, Pinkie?” Fluttershy asked, concern filling her voice as she flew over to her friend. “You aren’t hurt are you?”

“Nope!” Pinkie replied with a wide smile. “I am still hungry, though! I haven’t had a doozy like that since that meanie-pants hydra! Wow, that was something!”

“So what does it mean?” Spike asked, doing his best to mimic the motions Pinkie’s ‘Pinkie Sense’ had triggered.

“I don’t know,” the premier party pony of Ponyville didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it at all as she stuffed a hoofful of cookies into her mouth and quickly swallowed them. “Never had one like that before, but I didn’t get any sad feelings from it, so it’s probably just getting excited for the show like I am!” 

The others all shrugged it off after that and went back to idly chatting while they waited for the sun to finishing setting so that the Night of the Falling Skies could begin. After all, Pinkie was Pinkie. And if she wasn’t concerned by it, then they had nothing to worry about. 





Starbrought





The light rapping of a hoof against the thick wooden door interrupted Princess Luna's meditation. The princess of the moon slowly opened her eyes and blinked several times, adjusting to the dim lighting of her meditation chambers in the northeastern most tower of Canterlot Castle. The rapping on her door came again, accompanied by the voice of a guard.

"Your Highness, it’s almost time.”

Luna sighed as she rose to her hooves, feeling the satisfactory cracking of the vertebrae in her back as she did so. She twisted her neck from side to side in a very un-royal manner, as her annoying nephew Blueblood would say. She took in a deep breath and raised her head up high as she strode toward the door. Her horn lit up with a pale, robin’s egg blue light as she reached out to the door with her magic, swinging it open in front of her. Her Night Guards on the other side both snapped to attention and saluted Luna as she strode purposefully down the stairwell of the tower before falling into position on either side behind her. 

Her guards easily stood out from the average palace guards. Like all guards, their armor altered their appearance for the sake of uniformity whenever they donned it. Their coats were a deep shade of gray and their manes and tails took on the color of a starless night. Their eyes glowed a faint yellow with cat-like slit pupils. Their wings were magically altered to appear bat-like, rather than their usual feathered appearance. The armor they wore was mostly a deep purple in color with black accents and their helms had a webbed crest similar to their wings rather than the feathered plumes most other guards possessed.

Even though she knew many of her subjects were often intimidated by her guards, Luna refused to change how their armor altered their appearance. They were her Night Guards, and she felt it appropriate that they were properly dressed for the occasion. Not to mention, it helped to entertain her during the evenings when she held Night Court to see the ponies who were unable to attend the Day Court that her sister, Celestia, presided over. Watching the upper-class wiggle uncomfortably under the hard stares of the Night Guard was highly amusing to Luna. It felt good to watch some ponies, who felt they deserved more in life than those they viewed as below them, be put in their place by a simple enchantment on armor.

The princess of the moon exited the tower into the Hall of Equestrian History where several dozen stained glass windows depicted important scenes from the earliest recorded points of Equestrian history right up until the defeat of Discord at the hooves of her sister and herself. Several of Luna’s favorite stories to tell could be found here. The battle of Starswirl the Bearded and the behemoth Mjolnir, where the earth shook nonstop for three whole days until Starswirl finally succeeded in banishing Mjolnir to the depths of Tartarus. Shortly before that window was the Despair, a creature of pure darkness that sought to swallow the joyful emotions of all Equestrian’s in the years shortly before Discord’s rise to power. The Despair had eventually been defeated by the Six Founders of Equestria, but at the cost of their own lives. There was Everfree, the last descendant of Starswirl the Bearded, who used all of her power to seal the gates of Tartarus and create the three headed hell-hound Cerberus to guard them. The strain of the spell destroyed her physical body, and gave birth to what was now known as the Everfree Forest, named in honor of her sacrifice.

Only one window, however, always managed to catch Luna’s attention enough to force her to stop and stare at it. The image depicted her younger self, back before she stood taller than most ponies and her mane hadn’t quite achieved its free-flowing nature. She stood on a rocky outcropping, openly weeping as her magic reached out to the heavens, calling forth thousands of meteors to streak across the sky in her own way of mourning the loss of her oldest friend, the very first Night of the Falling Skies.

Luna hung her head, and her guards joined her. Though she had never explained why she did so, she insisted on moment of silence every time she passed by this particular window. A full minute passed before the princess raised her head and continued down the hall toward her destination, the grand balcony overlooking the courtyard.

As the princess of the moon had suspected, her elder sister, Celestia, was already on the balcony, silently waiting for her as she guided the sun along its remaining path beyond the horizon. The Night Guard took up their positions on either side of the large glass doors that led to the balcony, both of them becoming as eerily still as the gargoyles that had once decorated the Palace of the Pony Sisters in the Everfree Forest. Luna waited patiently for her sister to finish lowering the sun before she stepped out onto the balcony, clearing her throat gently to announce her presence.

Celestia turned toward her younger sister, a small smile forming on her lips. “Good evening, Luna,” she said quietly. 

“And to you, Sister,” Luna returned the smile. “I trust your day has been well?”

The princess of the sun chuckled warmly and nuzzled her sister gently as she drew nearer. “But of course!” She replied cheerily. “Not a cloud in the sky thanks to the Cloudsdale teams working overtime. Though I’m certainly not looking forward to the three days of rain we’ll be receiving next week to make up for the past few days of clear skies.” Celestia gave a slight grimace, which earned the tiniest of giggles from Luna. 

It was always a relief to Luna when her elder sister showed her less serious side. Before she had turned into Nightmare Moon over a thousand years ago, she could only ever remember how proper Celestia had been. Quite a lot had changed over the past one thousand years.

“The ambassador from the Altai Dominion is growing impatient,” her sister admitted. “We shall have to leave tonight after you have finished.”

Luna grimaced. The Altai Dominion, homeland of the Griffins had been at edge with the Taurus Wastelands, home of the Minotaur clans for the past several weeks. More than once, fighting had almost broken out along the border. Celestia had made her worry about war breaking well known to Luna. If the Altai Dominion and the Taurus clans started a war with each other, the fighting could carry over into Equestria. As such, Celestia had petitioned the leaders of both nations to meet and discuss the reasons behind the fighting and find a solution.

“I still do not understand why I need to accompany you, sister,” the princess of the night said in response. “Do we not need one of us to remain behind to maintain appearance?”

“Cadance should be returning from the Zebrarian Deserts in a couple of days,” Celestia reminded her younger sister. “She should be able to keep the peace while we’re gone.”

“Then who shall rule in our place until she arrives?” Luna inquired.

Celestia grimaced. “Blueblood.” Luna fixed her sister with a deadpanned stare.

“Blueblood?” She repeated. Celestia nodded. Luna let out a groan. “He’s going to ruin the country you know.”

“Oh, I doubt that he will be able to,” the sun princess said with a small chuckle. “I’ve assigned the council to keep an eye on him, any major decisions will be sent to me for approval, and he’s forbidden from making laws.”

“I imagine he won’t be too pleased when he finds out,” Luna said with a small giggle. 

“What did you think the real reason is why we’re leaving tonight?” Her sister grinned slyly and the two of them broke into a small fit of giggles.

“You’ve become quite the hobgoblin, Sister,” the princess of the moon chuckled. Her sibling smiled warmly back at her.

“Are you ready, Luna?” Celestia asked. Luna nodded. She turned away from Celestia and strode to the forefront of the balcony, doing her best to stifle her giggles. 

She drew in a slow breath to steady herself and turned her gaze up to the stars appearing in the night sky above. Her horn began to glow with a midnight blue aura, flecked with countless twinkling lights, mimicking the sky above. Her eyelids slowly closed as she felt her magic reach out into the heavens, searching for the cluster of space rocks that were in orbit around Equestria’s neighbor planet, Corpus Petra. She felt her magic seep into the rocks, pulling them from orbit and dragging them through the emptiness of space toward the Equestrian skies at nearly impossible speeds while preparing to slow them down.

Celestia watched her sister with pride as arcane energy swirled around Luna, lifting her into the air without using her wings and even causing the wind to shift around her in a light gale. The princess of the sun turned her gaze to the heavens above and watched patiently for several minutes. 
A single white streak blazed a trail across the skies above. A bluish green one appeared a brief moment later. In a matter of seconds, the sky lit up with the multi-colored hues of the magic-imbued meteors streaking across the stars. 

The first Night of the Falling Skies in over seven hundred years had begun.




Starbrought






> {Edited} Chapter One - Driven To Steal A Drive
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Humans have always been known and feared for their dedication to their sciences, their technology, their way of life... and their warfare. That is still true now, after seven-hundred years of obtaining proper knowledge to explore the final frontier: space.

In the late twentieth century, Humanity was able to explore the space immediately surrounding their home planet of Earth. As the population began to advance beyond the capacity of the planet to comfortably sustain their civilization the subsequent conflict over resources, economics, religion and politics on Earth gave way to numerous wars. Furthermore these tensions put great pressure on the species until the beginning of the twenty-second century, when the transnational organization that became known as the Unified Nations of Earth engaged in more frequent space colonization across their solar system. The UNE sought to represent the entire species, even though no one state ever previously ruled the entire human race. With the discovery of Faster-Than-Light travel in the year 2117 A.D., the UNE began spreading the human race beyond their home solar system, relieving the serious ecological pressure on the home world.

Simultaneously, this expansion was also to usher in promising new opportunities for Humanity, as some of these colonies, such as planet Aria with its bountiful coal and titanium deposits, could offer abundant stores of raw materials that may had otherwise been considerably unique and scarce on Earth. With the initial advent of interplanetary trade driving down the costs of what may had once been an expensive implementation of their technology (such as the forging of space-worthy ships and naval vessels) the effects from these carefully implemented first colonization projects helped to ensure that interstellar trade, travel and communication were to be more commonplace amongst the general populace in the ensuing centuries, eventually granting humanity the capacity to expand to hundreds of worlds and establish colonies at enhanced rates. As a result, more than eight hundred worlds were colonized by Humanity by the year 2496 A.D., the year the Unified Nations of Earth declared themselves the grand Empire of Humanity.

In the year 2505 A.D., Humanity had first contact with a sapient race of alien beings, finally providing an answer to a question that many thought there would never be an answer for. These aliens called themselves the Enlightened. They believed they inherited all of existence from their gods and demanded that Humanity surrender to them and turn control of the Milky Way over. The head of the UNE at the time, Harold Casteel the VII, refused the demands put forth by the Enlightened and declared war against them, the first major war humanity had been in since the fifth world war back in 2092 A.D. on Earth.

The Enlightened were—in terms of weaponry and ship design—on near equal terms with Humanity. However, the only edge they truly had was their knowledge of space-travel and unique resources from their home-galaxy to develop advanced engines. When they invaded the Milky Way, they had expected Humanity to surrender at the sight of a technologically superior race, like so many other galaxies had. What the Enlightened had not expected, was to discover a race quite similar to their own; a race whose cruelty could be limitless, a race that had torn itself apart countless times over the course of their existence over the tiniest of things, a race that had waged war after war against its own kind. And the Enlightened had just unleashed the wrath of Humanity upon themselves.

The year 2508 A.D., saw the surrender of the Enlightened, leaving Humanity as the victors of a virtually one-sided war. Human casualties were, overall, minimum. Only two planets, Melody and Eternity, were lost during the war, reduced to slag and glass by plasma and laser fire. But even the loss of those two planets paled in comparison to the damage done by an Enlightened saboteur. During the final hours of the war, when the Enlightened made a last-ditch effort assault on what would later become the human Capital Planet of Nova, the saboteur infiltrated the Library, the repository of all human knowledge and attempted to wipe out all of the data stored there and subsequently eliminate the copies of the data stored across all of Humanity's computer systems. However, the virus was quickly defeated by the Library's Data Defense System and only a small amount of data was lost. 

To Humanities' dismay, that data contained all the information humanity had possessed on their home planet, Earth. All hyperspace routes, all communications codes, all information on the surrounding solar system, all coordinates. Everything. Gone.

As a further result, the pilots who constantly traveled to and fro from Earth could no longer properly calculate how to get there. With everything deleted, any space-worthy pilots who attempted to establish a new route or map would crash into a separate star, or possibly be stranded themselves in an unknown solar system. Far from civilized life.

Humanity had won their first intergalactic war, but they had lost Earth.

Time moved on, as it always has. The spoils of war furthered the technology of mankind and made them stronger. Powerful cloaking devices were developed to hide ships not only from radar, but from sight as well. Energy shielding allowed for weaker ships to fly through more dangerous areas of space unharmed. And new warships were developed with powerful engines far superior to their predecessors.

2600 A.D. welcomed a new species of sapient life to the Milky Way. The Saalwan, (bipedal, humanoid reptiles fleeing the remnants of the Enlightened) had found their way into Human territory. As a whole, Humanity welcomed them with open arms and hearts. The Saalwan would be the first of forty three different alien species to call the Milky Way home for the next one hundred and fifty four years until suddenly, all forty three species left for no apparent reason.

2754 A.D. Humanity was, once again, alone in their galaxy. 

Many would call the time between the arrival of Saalwan and the great Exodus a golden age of peace and prosperity. Others called it a time when Humanity took advantage of the other races, using them to make the lives of Humans easier. Still, others would call it that because shortly after the Exodus, the First Galactic Civil War broke out amongst Humanity, threatening to tear them apart.



Excerpt from the Museum of Humanity Audio Tour
Location: Museum of Humanity, Novelis Peninsula, Planet Nova
2950 A.D.






Starbrought






2806 A.D.
Poseidon Nebula
Converged Solaris Syndicate Flagship Leviathan
Lower Decks


Drake tapped his foot impatiently. His hands were clenched tightly on his Hellfire-Class sniper rifle as his eyes carefully monitored the long hall in front of him. 

Standing at just over six feet tall, Drake Shields was hardly an intimidating man at first glance. His face was slim and angular, which, combined with his shoulder length jet-black hair, gave him an air of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you in the back if you double cross him. As a pirate, Drake had felt the need to dress well. 

The overcoat he wore was secured by his belt, on which shone several lights of varying colors from the various pieces of equipment he had clipped there. A Reaper-class pistol rested in its holster on Drake’s right while a golden-handled energy cutlass was sheathed on his left.

To his rear, Yuri Lawrence knelt by a holographic lock panel, beginning his work on decoding the encrypted lock. His shaggy brown hair hung over his face, a sharp nose jutting through it. His sharp, green eyes looked over the lock, watching to make sure he didn't get them blown up, or worse; trigger the alarm system. A black, long sleeved shirt covered his upper body, while a pair of simple camouflage pants adorned his long legs. 

A bead of sweat worked its way down the back of Drake's neck as the pirate captain waited anxiously. He did not like these cruisers the Syndicates used. Their hallways had too many side doors and alcoves, all perfect cover in case a firefight broke out, but it left the Cerberus Pirates without cover.

"Yuri, how much longer until we're through?" Drake asked, drumming his index finger on the side of his rifle. "You know I get nervous when we have to wait this long in enemy territory."

"Give or take five minutes," the tech-specialist muttered. "If you stop rushing me, that is."

"Quiet." The third and final member of the group murmured as his eyes scanned the hall. Slayer was not only the enigma of the trio in terms of physical appearance, but he was also the weapons specialist and primary warrior of the group in close combat. He donned a set of crimson armor that covered him from head to toe, and his face was hidden by a jet-black visor.

He was the tallest of the group, standing roughly at a height of six-foot seven and built bigger than a Baragwin Battle Tank. Magnetically held in place on Slayer’s back was the assassin’s favorite weapon, his ever-formidable Energy Katana; a large, vicious blade that emitted ionic discharges throughout the hilt.

Two pistols (which he affectionately referred to as his ‘Sabre Shots’) adorned his hip, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.  Slayer’s head moved from left to right as he scanned the hallway. His right hand gripped the blade still attached to his back, while his left floated over his offhand Sabre Shot. “Less talking, more being ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.”

Drake rolled his eyes and took another look down the hall. Still clear. Then, the tiniest shift in the shadows caught Drake’s attention. From afar, the sound of a pair of muffled voices reached the ears of the three pirates.

"Contacts," Drake whispered. "Cover, now!" Activating one of his neural implants, he sent a signal to the active camouflage unit he kept on his person, turning it on with a slight hum and vanishing from sight.

Slayer released the hold of his katana and rolled near a door frame, pulling out both Sabres and leaning his back against the frame. Seeing the commotion, Yuri calmly activated a small energy shield generator, and positioned himself next to Slayer to continue on the lock. Drake fell to one knee to stabilize himself as he took aim at the shifting shadows towards the other end of the hall.

The first soldier stepped into plain view, dressed in the standard Syndicate armor. Nothing extravagant, just a full-body silver-tinted set of armour, accompanied with a black war-glass face built into the helm. He was laughing loudly at something his companion had said and wasn't even looking around at his surroundings.

With a muffled crack, the first soldier fell to the ground, his laughter abruptly stopping as the round from Drake's rifle cut him down.

Slayer quickly craned his head out over Yuri and aimed his Sabres down at the other guard. With a well-timed twitch of both of his trigger fingers, two consecutive bolts flew out and struck the guard’s chest. He was flung back by the force and impacted the wall behind him, with two smoldering holes in his armour accompanying him.

"Oh, this is going to be fun. They have yet another secondary firewall,” Yuri muttered in an exasperated tone, content to ignore the possible compromise that nearly occurred no more than a few seconds previous. “This makes the fourth one we’ve encountered since boarding.”

"Sarcasm. That's a good sign," Drake muttered as he deactivated his camouflage. "How bad?"

"’Slayer-on-wine’ bad, and I mean the good stuff." Slayer grunted and threatened to aim a light, swift kick to Yuri's ribs. Were the situation not so dire, he most likely would have followed through.

"Knock it off, you two," Drake snapped. "Yuri, hurry it up. I don't know if anyone heard that but let's err on the side of caution and assume they did." Drake turned towards Slayer and tilted his head in the direction of the bodies. "Let's hide these before the next patrol comes by.”

Yuri waved a hand at them, motioning them to leave. Slayer nodded in agreement and walked with Drake toward the end of the hall, hand hovering near his katana and Sabre Shot once again. The pair of them moved quickly and quietly to the end of the hall where they proceeded to drag the bodies of their victims out of view. 

"And there we go! You are now free to use the door without triggering a massive amount of alarms." Yuri stood up as the door slid open, dusting his hands off proudly. 

Slayer peered down the darkened hallway past the doorway. No sound emitted from the pitch-black corridor. "So, who goes first...?" He and Drake both turned in unison to look at Yuri, who stood between the two of them.

“Why are you both looking at me?” Yuri glanced up and down at his companions, and sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll lead. Just let me charge this sucker up.” He stated as he plucked an energy pistol from the inside of his jacket. It hummed to life upon activation, a small bar steadily filling with green energy to indicate a growing surge of power.

While the firearm charged, Yuri reached into his pocket and pulled out his intricately designed glove with exposed, glowing red wires wrapped around the fingers. He slid the glove on, preparing for a possible fight that would require some matter to be disoriented. The tech looked into the room, making sure there was no immediate threat before he haphazardly dashed inside. A few moments passed before light basked the space before them.

Slayer followed the technician with Drake trailing behind him as they gazed at the area. It was a round circular room with windows facing a passing star along the port wall. Four hover-carts for heavy transport were docked under the windows, charging for use. From the looks of the varying crates and canisters scattered about the corners of the room, this was one of the Leviathan’s holds for non-vital cargo. At least, that's what it looked like.

Yuri came out of the dark side-room carrying three amber-colored bottles in his hands. He popped one open and took a deep swig, much to the confusion of his shipmates. A light sigh of satisfaction left him, and he stared blankly at the two pirates meeting his mellow expression.

"Uh..." Drake cocked an eyebrow at Yuri.

"Here, catch.” Yuri threatened suddenly, tossing one bottle to Drake and one to Slayer. Drake fumbled with the tossed bottle for a moment while Slayer effortlessly caught the bottle in one hand and peered down at the old label with minor hesitance.

"How old are these?" was the query as he began searching for a date on the bottle.

"These are, my fine, somewhat-slow friend...” Yuri began, casting a smirk in Slayer’s direction. The assassin responded with a brief bout of his middle finger. “The last bottles of Trevanian wine to be produced in history, from when the grape went extinct a few decades ago. Dunno why Syndicate has a hold of them, but they definitely aren't cheap."

“These would be worth quite a bit on the market," Drake said, carefully tapping the bottle he had caught.

"We always need more credits," Slayer muttered. He let out a small sigh as he watched Yuri start to claw through more and more canisters and crates in search of their objective; a Saalwan-designed energy drive, rumored to be more compact and far more powerful than any energy drive in use by humans at least.

Slayer walked towards the window facing the star. Even with the interference of the pane in front of him, Slayer could feel his Suit absorbing the trace amounts of solar power. He inhaled a small breath as he spoke over his comlink. "I’ll keep watch. Loot anything worthwhile."

"Already on it," Drake replied as he lifted a smaller crate from the pile and onto the hover cart next to him. "Just don't let your guard down." Slayer acknowledged that statement with a nod and moved over to the door in which they entered from. The assassin knew there wasn't going to be another patrol; he just didn't want to have to muck through containers and waste his time.

"Anything else interesting in these things?" Drake inquired as he examined an access terminal set into a nearby wall. The screen was blank, save for a small white blip indicating that it was in standby mode and would flare to life upon a touch. "Weapons? Contraband? Information?” With trepidation, Drake attempted to interact with the terminal.

"Please do not touch any of those terminals." Yuri's voice caught Drake off guard, and he pulled his hand back away from the terminal. The form of Yuri appeared soon after, a small box in his possession as he sifted through it lazily. A few seconds passed before he set it down and kicked it away.

"Why?" Drake asked guiltily. He should have known better; you don't just touch terminals in enemy territory without checking for traps. That was Common Sense 101.

"Because I need to clear them to make sure there are no hidden ‘surprises’," Yuri mumbled as he stuck his torso into a nearby canister, most likely scouring the bottom for anything worthwhile. One could have considered the view of two legs flailing about slightly in effort as amusing, but the Cerberus Pirates were too preoccupied to have a laugh over it. 

Drake let out a small sigh of restlessness. "Fine, fine. Let's trade; I'll keep grabbing the crates while you make sure this terminal's safe."

"That sounds good." Comically, Yuri popped out of the canister with a Rear-Admiral’s jacket on his back like a cape. He walked over to the terminal and began to work his magic.  "Override password-encryption, nullify the parser, and... we’re in!" The tech’s brow furrowed as he stared at the screen before him. “That was almost too easy. Hmm. Let me just search for the ID of our item...”

The satisfying clunks of several locks disengaging filled the room as one of the fixed containment units opened up. A smile could not have appeared on Yuri’s face any faster. Striding with purpose towards the door, he activated the sensor, causing the wall of metal to gradually split open. "There you are, my glorious little drive.” Yuri turned to his Captain and grinned.

Drake and Yuri strode inside the containment unit and looked across the space at their objective. Drake raised an eyebrow, while Yuri could only afford a perplexed scratch of his chin. “It’s smaller than I expected,” Drake quipped. The distant snicker over Slayer’s comlink was unnoticed by the pair.

“Be thankful for that.” Yuri breathed a sigh of relief. “Small means I’ll have an easier time installing it.”

Slayer moved to stand behind his fellows and took in the sight of their objective. Situated in the heart of the containment unit was a streamlined cube, covered with numerous Saalwan-esque symbols that pulsed regularly with an orange light. A transparent casing surrounded the cube, generating a low-yield gravity field to hold it stationary. Slayer strolled towards the casing and began to slowly stalk around it. "Is this casing vital to the drive?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure,” Drake muttered. He tilted his head in the direction of the tech-specialist. Yuri was currently trying his best not to drool, but was failing slightly. “Any way you can figure it out, Yuri?"

"I have no idea, but we should probably keep it in there until it's on the ship,” Yuri muttered as he gently stroked the side of the casing. “You know how valuable this thing is for us, and for others.”

Drake tapped a finger on his pants leg, before quickly checking over his shoulder out of paranoia. They were in the clear. Everything was going to be fine as long as no-one did anything stupid. “If we’re taking the whole thing, we need to figure out a way to carry it. Those lifts won’t have enough room...”

'This ought to be simple enough.' Slayer smirked to himself, unaware of the discussion behind him as he drew his katana and began to charge it. It began to glow a sinister bloody crimson as he positioned it expertly in his grasp and pulled his arms back to stab. It was a brute-force technique he learned that worked very well with his sword to overload certain energy barriers.

Drake turned back towards the Saalwan drive, only for his eyes to widen in revelation and horror at seeing Slayer's stance and his inevitable action. ‘Please don't do what I think you're going to do,’ Drake silently pleaded to himself.

"Uh... Slayer?” Yuri called out to the ex-bounty hunter nervously. Slayer’s form froze. “Before you do this, think about how the hell we are going to get this off the ship. We're also not entirely sure if this casing is required for the drive to remain stable or not." A lack of response caused Yuri to take a hesitant step forward. "Slayer?"

For several seconds, Slayer remained immobile in thought. It seemed that he was getting ready to sheathe his blade, before the infamous ‘Crimson Menace’ gave a shrug. "Eh." And with that, the bounty-hunter dug his katana into the casing. It went in about half-way before he began to carve a large oval through the exterior, the grating of sword against electronic-plexiglass echoing throughout the containment unit.

Drake's palm met his face and slowly slid down his chin as several alarms started blazing. "Well, there goes the plan of 'don’t let the Syndicate know we’re here.'"

“WARNING! INTRUDERS DETECTED IN CARGO HOLD FOUR. ALL AVAILABLE PATROL UNITS RESPOND,”  the Leviathan’s onboard AI announced over the loudspeakers.

“Well, we’re boned.” Yuri let out a dejected sigh. “Why is it we can never have one successful heist without setting off some sort of alarm, get chased by guards, or accidentally activate a self-destruct sequence that conveniently only gives us enough time to get to our ship and escape?” As the katana came full-circle, Slayer quickly sheathed it and fired a kick. With ease, the spherical incision became accessible, and Slayer reached inside to remove their prize. He motioned his head towards the door as he began to quickly waddle towards the exit of the storage room, grunting under the effort of lifting the surprisingly-hefty drive.

"Start the carts!" he grunted as he made his way toward the aforementioned vehicles. "Time to go."

"Way ahead of you!" Drake hollered, quickly activating the various carts and setting the destination to the hanger where their ship, the Ethereal, laid in wait. Slayer set the drive down amongst the pile of crates they had already loaded just as the convoy of loaders began to move. In unison, he and Drake moved to the sides of the main cart, providing it with cover. If the Saalwan-drive got hit by a stray blaster bolt, their entire mission would be jeopardized.

"Make way for the geek!" Yuri shouted as he charged past his companions, leading the way in his rush to escape. He veered down the path they had taken to get to the hold, vanishing from sight. Only to come running back seconds later, crying out in shock with his impromptu cape flitting about in his wake. "Let's not go that way!" With the phrase hanging in the air, Yuri continued his dash, and made a random turn through one of the connecting doorways.

Drake and Slayer both shot the tech-specialist curious looks as he ran past them. They turned their heads together simultaneously back toward the hall Yuri had turned around in, only to find a dozen soldiers charging down the corridor, blaster rifles gripped tightly in their armored gauntlets. Slayer snorted under his breath. "Let's."

Drake drew his pistol from the inside of his coat and shot the locking mechanism. The damage caused the blast door in the corridor to short-circuit, bringing it down between them and the soldiers just as they were beginning to open fire. The resounding gong and cacophony of blaster fire impacting the barrier was ominous, to say the least. "Go! Go!"

"Don't have to tell me twice..." Slayer muttered under his breath as he increased the speed output of the carts and charged down the hall towards the docking bay where the Ethereal was docked. By then, the technicians would have realized that the Leviathan's security camera system had been compromised by looping the same footage, and would only further antagonize the Syndicate forces.

"Why do I let you two talk me into these situations?!" Drake shouted.

"I don't! We just do something, and we live with it!" Slayer cackled in adrenaline-fueled madness, a state of mind that was fairly rare with the usually-stoic assassin, as he slid down the rest of the hallway and rounded the corner. Slayer came up short upon sighting several guards standing there with their rifles raised. He immediately drew his katana and readied himself for battle.

Drake, however, reacted on reflex and tossed an adhesive grenade right into one of the guards' faces. An enormous plume of chemical ice splashed out and immobilized the squadron of troopers, rooting them in place. "You were saying?" he shouted in irritation at his fellow crewmate as the grenade detonated. 

Slayer spun on his heels and charged in the opposite direction, releasing a snort upon doing so as their escape was more important. He would gain more than enough prestige with completing the heist, anyways. "...Wait.” He skidded to a stop and turned back towards the quickly-recovering group of guards. A hushed swear was issued under his breath. “Our door is behind those guards."

Drake leaned around Slayer in time to see the cart begin to automatically turn down the hall with the guards still in it. "Bloody hell... Guess we will have to fight."

"Here." Slayer quickly shrugged his shoulders, causing his katana to disengage from its sheath on his back. Catching it without looking, he tossed it over the now-reversing cart and into Drake's outstretched hand. A frown appeared on the assassin's face, but Drake obviously was unable to see it. "Don't break it."

Drake tossed the crate in his occupied hand on top of the hyperdrive and drew his own cutlass, now dual wielding the two energy-blades in his grasp. "Let's do this," the pirate captain grinned maniacally as the guards finished removing themselves from the evaporating ice-trap. Slayer grunted in the affirmative as he halted the carts’ advance and stood back with his Sabres in hand to protect it, if fire came his way. This was not his Rite of Honour, but rather Drake’s. He would not involve himself unless there was no other option.

Drake twisted to the side as the nearest guard lunged toward him in an attempt to grab his collar. The guard stumbled past and was met with the edge of Slayer’s katana which sliced effortlessly through his shields and halfway into him. Drake yanked the blade out of the guard’s body and brought it up to deflect several energy rounds the other guards were firing at him. Using the flat-edge of the cutlass,  Drake scooped up the body of the fallen guard and tossed it towards the others with a grunt of exertion. 

The distraction worked, and the guards broke ranks. Drake pulled his arm back and, with a flick of the wrist, sent his cutlass spinning down the hallway ahead of him; watching as it tore into two guards, severing one in half and mortally wounding the other. The other guards quickly recovered from Drake’s distraction and took aim at him once more. Drake smirked and activated the psychic link between himself and his equipment. A brief shimmer surrounded him and Drake vanished from sight.

“What the—?!” one of the guards cried out in surprise. Slayer ducked behind a corner to evade detection. How (or why) they hadn’t started a firefight with him before was unknown, but he decided to ignore said statement as he stood out-of-sight. “That bastard’s using Alliance tech!” 

“Check your six!” another soldier shouted, pivoting on his heel to look at the empty space behind the group. “He could be anywhere!”

“He could even be right behind you,” Drake’s disembodied voice said smugly in the man’s ear. The guard let out a shocked cry and spun around, firing his shotgun towards where he had heard the voice, only to shoot one of his companions in the chest. The other guards all cried out in surprised anger as their comrade dropped to the ground. Drake’s energy cutlass, retrieved during his bout of invisibility, flashed to life long enough to run another man through his chest before vanishing along with Drake’s victorious chuckles.

“You son of a bitch!” one of the others cried out, spinning around and trying to find any sign of their target. “Show yourself, you coward!”

“Damn, you’re bossy,” Drake’s voice grumbled. Another flash of light filled the hall as Drake appeared, arms spread wide in surrender, alongside ten other Drakes, all of whom were identical in every way and standing in a perfect circle around the remaining seven guards.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” a guard groaned. “He has holographic decoys too?”

“Even better,” the Drakes all spoke in unison. “Explosive holographic decoys.”

“Explosive...?” The guards all repeated. The Drakes all smiled warmly at the guards, and began to glow red. The holographic generators that Drake had placed around the guards while cloaked all detonated in unison, reducing the remaining guards to barely recognizable lumps of flesh and blood. Slayer mused it would take quite some time for a cleaning crew to get all the little Syndicate bits out of the corridor.

“Gross,” Drake muttered as he deactivated his cloaking device and wiped some of the residual blood off of his attire. "My coat is definitely going to need a sonic-cleaning."

“Surprised you aren’t Syndicate,” Slayer remarked with a veiled, repressed chuckle. Drake had persevered his Rite of Honor; as expected of someone Slayer had bothered to give some instruction to. That battle would surely make a glorious story next time they all sat in a cantina, Slayer thought. The assassin even considered to buy the captain a free drink. Just one, though. “Brutal.”

“We’re in a rush,” Drake reminded him as he passed the ex-bounty hunter his energy-katana back. “So let’s get back to the Ethereal.”





Starbrought





“They really don’t know when to give up, do they?” Yuri thought to himself as he hid behind a small alcove as Syndicate guards ran up and down the corridor, trying to find him. So far, Yuri had been able to remain incognito, but was slowly being forced farther and farther away from the hangar bay.

From what he had been able to see from his surroundings, he was somewhere near the mess hall, or what he thought was a mess hall. All Syndicate ships usually smelled like bad milk and beans, so he couldn’t be entirely sure on his position.

His thoughts were interrupted as the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. From the amount of steps, and the weight of them, they sounded like shock troopers. Undoubtedly on-route to the Ethereal. He had to get out of there, and fast. Peeking his head out into the hallway, and looking both ways to make sure that he would have the time to get out of there, Yuri crept out. The footsteps began getting louder and louder, and Yuri took that as his cue to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.





Starbrought





Meanwhile, Slayer and Drake had begun unloading near the ramp leading into their vessel before Yuri’s voice crackled over the comlink. Once the feed cut out from the comlink, an exasperated sigh left Slayer. “I’ll be back.”

'Must I do everything?' he thought as he walked back out and left Drake to try and prep the ship. At least Yuri, in all of his stupidity, was giving Slayer the excuse to do battle, the hunter mused. He strode quickly back toward the door closed by Drake during the escape, and planted his feet heavily in front of it. Reaching behind his back and drawing his katana, he began charging it once more.

Instead of carving a hole through the barrier, this instance he simply stabbed through the center, and twisted the weapon back and forth in the same spot. The area around the point of impact gradually became hotter and brighter before it looked like a magma spot from Mageast. Withdrawing the blade, Slayer locked his weapon back into its sheath on his back. Slayer threw his leg at full-force into the spot, causing the middle of the barrier to crumble with ease.

The sounds of a certain wine-loving overall crazed technician, and rifle-fire, filled the air as Slayer drew his Sabre Shots and positioned himself near the left side of what was left of the barrier.

Slayer tensed up, feeling his muscles ready to spring out at any moment. The sounds were becoming louder and more constant, and he knew he'd have to act quickly. The first matter of business would be to provide cover fire for Yuri to get behind his barrier, before unloading grenades to cover their escape. Slayer poked his head out from behind the barrier for the briefest of seconds, both of his Sabres primed to face...

...nothing.

Slayer lowered one of his arms in confusion after several silent seconds. ‘What the...’

Drake looked around from the entry to the Ethereal, realizing there were no sounds of fighting like he'd expected. Tapping his wrist, the personal comlink clicked open. "What's going on, Slayer?"

Slayer crouched back down and holstered his left Sabre. Using the same hand, he brought his two forefingers to his helm. "Thought Yuri was bringing company."

"Where'd he go?" Drake asked as he entered the access code to lower the Ethereal’s ramp.

"Not sure..." Slayer sighed and quickly made his way back to the hangar. "Let's just load the rest. Yuri will stop messing around."

Drake nodded in agreement and began pulling the final crates onboard. "Get that thing down into Engineering," he said, gesturing at the Salwaan drive they had stolen. "Yuri can install it when he gets back and we finally get out of here." Slayer grunted in response and lifted the drive, marching up the ramp with it on one shoulder.

"Oi!" They both turned around and looked at the end of the hallway to see Yuri running towards them as quickly as his legs could carry him.

"Hey look, there he is," Drake muttered with a minuscule sigh of relief.

Slayer simply rolled his eyes and began marching into the ship once more. "Took him long enough—"

At that moment, they saw and heard what he was running from. Nearly thirty infantry units, from what they could estimate, were chasing him. He was screaming, and somehow still Yuri had all the booze he'd snagged from the Syndicate cargo hold with him. Slayer’s eyes widened and he cursed under his breath as he quickly set down the drive in Engineering and began going the length of the Ethereal to the lift leading up to the second deck.

"Ahhh!" Yuri’s cry echoed around the docking bay, full of panic.

Drake let out a roar of frustration. "Honestly, Yuri?! Again?! Didn't you learn your lesson last time about antagonizing Syndicate platoons?" He scrambled to finish shoving the remaining haul onboard before he sprinted into the lift after Slayer. The door to the lift slid open and Slayer squeezed himself through the gap before it finished. Thundering across the ten or so feet to the weapons control room behind the cockpit, Slayer all but threw himself into the chair to begin powering up the Ethereal’s weapon systems.

>Infantry Turbolaser: Online
>Combat Mode set to: ‘Manual’

Slayer laughed twistedly as he sat in his specially rigged chair, gripping his ‘Joystick’ in preparation for some target practice. It was connected directly to the weapon controls of the ship, making him more often than not the sole defender of the ship in flight. The crew had debated giving some firepower over to Drake, but decided against it on the grounds of worrying about weapons would mess with Drake's flight ability.

Thankfully, Slayer was a damn good shot, and could hold his own.

"Give them hell, Slayer!" Drake shouted as he began powering up the Ethereal's engines.

"Let's provide some cover..." Slayer growled as he quickly calibrated the turret so its line of fire aimed down the hallway and over Yuri's shoulder. His grin turned more malevolent as he began pressing his thumb on the trigger. Bolt fire continuously rang out and made contact with more and more soldiers as their rifles tried to strike the turret and Yuri. Each shot took down two or three soldiers, and bought Cerberus’ technician some much-needed time.

Yuri had managed to get to the cargo ramp at that moment. Once there, he placed down the goods on the inside and swiftly jogged out. "Slayer, stop firing! I got this!" 

"Headshot!" Drake shouted as he watched one of the patrol guards fall from his vantage point in the cockpit. "Nice shootin', Tex!" 

"Who?" Slayer questioned as he shut off the turret and began calibrating the other weaponry. He had a guess on what Yuri was going to do, and admittedly Slayer had more pressing matters to worry about than play guardian for a drunk Russian-descended tech.

"I have no idea!" Drake said as he activated the ship's navigation and powered up the engines. Various diagnostics flashed in blue and white across the screens as his fingers flew across the holographic keys. Suddenly, the pilot thought about what the tech just said. "Yuri! Get your ass back onboard and stop taking the piss! We need to get going!"

Yuri ignored him and swiftly positioned himself in the center of the bay, right in the warpath of the charging mercs that constructed the Syndicate. Their guns were raised in vigor as violent curses were spewed to encourage one another. With a faint hiss, an earbud-looking device slid into Yuri’s right ear, blocking off all sound. The other ear had no need for the device. Yuri was deaf in that ear, a result of being far too close to an outpost detonating. Twice.

Yuri raised his glove and pointed the palm at the oncoming horde of mercs, who were still expressing their vast knowledge of swear-filled vernacular. The glove began to take a harsh glow, slowly gaining in vivid intensity as a faint hum began to rise in the air. In an instant burst, a barely-visible pulse fired out. Abruptly, all the soldiers collapsed to the ground and grasped their ears, most of them screaming in pain. The ones not wearing a helmet got the worst of it, their ears beginning to bleed from the auditory massacre that had just occurred. Yuri smirked and stopped the noise, his glove instantly ceasing its glow. He turned around and walked towards the ship, casually strolling along as if he was on a vacation.

Slayer frowned at both the rather-faint ringing in his ears, and the large flurry of merc bodies incapacitated by being deafened from Yuri’s Sonic Wave. ‘Needs a higher output, and I need to readjust the silencers in the Suit...’ he thought absentmindedly as he began prepping the other systems for their escape.

>Ion Cannon Mark IV: Charging
>Sectic Missile Launcher Mark III: Primed
>Anti-Fighter Turret I: Primed
>Anti-Fighter Turret II: Primed

"Okay, I think that'll take care of—” Yuri paused and gave a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure there were no more troops following them. What he spotted did little to lighten his mood. “Oh hell...” he groaned, turning back towards the Ethereal and breaking into a sprint. “Go! Go! Go! They’ve sent out shock-troops! They’re armed with an AA plasma cannon!" 

Slayer cackled as he directed the Sectic Launcher towards the infantry. They were all huddled around the short-range artillery piece, making explosives the ideal weapon to use for maximum destruction. He sometimes wondered if he needed therapy for his vicious tendencies. Slayer decided that was a load of crap. "Die!" the hunter shouted at the targeting screen in front of him. Sometimes, Slayer really did love his job.

Several snub-sized missiles fired off in rapid succession as they detonated throughout the corridor, annihilating any reinforcements while triggering the plasma cannons’ core, sending bodies flying into walls and any other mercenaries trying to get up.

"Go go go!" Yuri shouted again as he entered the Ethereal. Without pausing, he slammed his palm against the controls to close the ramp and seal the ship up tight.

‘Three silos on backup...’ Slayer noted in his seat as he reloaded the launcher and checked the status of the Ethereal’s shields. "Shields at seventy-five percent power. Combat ready." 

The Ethereal lifted up into air and spun towards the massive sealed bay doors leading into the openness of space. "Slayer, make me a path," Drake called back to the other pirate. What was left of the Syndicate force in the hanger was still in disarray. A perfect opening to make a getaway.

"Got it," Slayer mumbled as he prepped the S.L. once more. A singular missile left its respective silo as it sailed through the air to impact the sealed passage. The explosion easily damaged it to the point of forcing the mechanism open, granting their vessel a guaranteed route out of the hanger. ‘Five shots on backup, two silos are available...’ Slayer thought as he continued monitoring his screens located all across his station in the cockpit. He briefly registered the new swarm of Syndicate troopers flooding into the hangar, but they were much too late to stop Cerberus.

"HA HA HA!" Drake laughed as the ship's engines roared to life, frying many of the reinforcements that had arrived. With a lurching heave, the Ethereal blasted out into the stars. 





Starbrought





The Leviathan was beginning to quickly pick up its pace as it pursued the pirate group 'Cerberus'. Leading the ship was Admiral Parkins. He had been the Commander of the Converged Solaris Syndicate since its founding thirty years ago, and he intended on keeping that position by capturing the group. 

The Syndicate was originally underestimated. The Imperials and the Alliance considered the group as nothing more than a coalition of thugs who had ascertained a small fleet, and generally ignored the operations of the small thorn in their sides. 

However, what they lacked back then in numbers, they made up for it on the battlefield. Their ferocity on the fields of war quickly changed the enemies' opinions, and they became strong enough to enter the Civil War as a major element. The Alliance and the Imperials weren't looking down on the Syndicate when they were being blown out of the sky.

But this Cerberus... this group of pirates had been able to sneak onto the Syndicate’s flagship. They had been able to dispatch several squads of trained soldiers. Not to mention they stole the Saalwan drive. So, it wasn't with great surprise that Parkins intended to capture the lot of them, in the name of the Converged Solaris Syndicate. How they could even think their lone ship could even influence the tides of the war with the Leviathan combat-ready was baffling. And ridiculous.

Parkins drummed his fingers against the control panel restlessly, staring at the ends of Cerberus' jets as they progressively began obtaining speed. He had always been able to keep his cool in these kinds of situations, but the last encounter with those damned colonists to obtain the drive was... stressful. ‘How these pirates got onboard in the first place, I'll never know...’

"Sir!" He glanced towards an officer who was managing the ship's comlink. "They will escape in approximately one-point-five minutes if we don't increase our—" 

"Do it." He interrupted, redirecting his focus back to the window of the Bridge. "Alert the Weapon Technician crews to ready the Auto-Turrets, and concentrate them on Cerberus' engines." 

"Yes, mi'lord." 

Parkins smirked as he saw the beginning shots ring off from the turrets situated around the ship. Small automated turrets were steadily increasing their volleys, making him grin even more. It was obvious that he was quite pleasantly surprised that neither of the other fleets knew about the drive. Which meant that the Syndicate could still keep it a secret... but the pirates had to be stopped and the device extracted. 

"They'll be a thorn in the C.S.S.'s side no longer—" 

"Admiral Parkins, sir!" 

His eyes widened as he was interrupted before his monologue could have begun. Parkins whirled around and snapped at the radar technician sitting several chairs away from him. "What?!" 

The tech nervously gulped before speaking. "A-a single hyperspace route is forming eight-point-nine clicks to our starboard side." 

"So?" He responded bitterly, quickly glancing at the window to see Cerberus’ engines struck by the Leviathan’s turrets. A malicious grin threatened to spill over Parkins' face.

"It's an Imperial dreadnought." 

His smirk disappeared entirely. "...Is it the Hammerdown?" 

"No sir. But from the signatures we're getting, it's from the same squadron." 

Parkins sighed and rubbed his temple thoroughly. "Great..." He glanced up towards the Ethereal to see its speed diminish by each passing second. "Call in two support frigates,” Parkins ordered as he stared out. “And send a group of snubs to deal with Cerberus' chance to escape. All other forces, focus on the Dreadnought." 

"Yes, mi’lord!" 





Starbrought





"Yuri! Get that drive installed, on the double!" Drake yelled into the ship’s comm, trying to get as fast as he could out of the way of the Leviathan and into the relative safeness of space. Lasers were certainly not making the endeavour any easier for the captain as he piloted.

Yuri groaned as he pushed the drive into a position where his abnormally tall frame would not fit in a million years. He picked himself up and looked over the drive, trying to figure out how the hell to work it. Or better yet how to install it. Yuri reached and pushed a button on what he guessed was the console. He braced himself for anything, and nothing happened...

Except for the random screen popping out of the drive, which he guessed was the control panel. Yuri smiled evilly and began to try to figure out what he was looking at. And for the first time today... Lady Luck smiled upon them. “Drake, we’re in luck,” Yuri commented over the intercom, catching the attention of both members of the crew.

“I’m all ears,” Drake said, his eyes never once leaving the navigation console as he carefully monitored enemy movements around them.

“The drive appears to have an installation manual...” Yuri smiled as he read over the guide, which had a convenient translator option built-in (though, it was slightly outdated by a century or so). 

Drake’s brow furrowed. “That seems a little too convenient. Be careful with that thing, Yuri. I’m starting to have doubts.”

“Do you really want me to run a full scan on it? Now?” Yuri asked, now looking at the drive with concern.

The Ethereal rocked as a stray missile from a Syndicate Snub-fighter exploded against its shields. “We'll have to worry about it later, Yuri,” Drake ordered. “Right now, we need to get the hell out of here.”

“You got it!” And with that, he closed the link and began to work on the drive.

The proximity radar next to Drake lit up with a single dot, lonely in space without any other dots around it, except for the dots that represented the Syndicate ships. Drake turned his head towards the screen, studying the screen with interest and a hell of a lot of concern. Because that lonely dot was suddenly getting a lot less lonely, with dozens of smaller dots appearing near the ship; probably fighters from their size.

"Drake,” A sudden, concerned voice spoke into his headset. ”We’ve got an Imperial Dreadnought on our hands.” His only response was an irritated groan and a slap to his forehead due to the mounting frustration of the events.

“What are our options?”

“Well...” There was a brief silence with only the whirling mechanisms of the engine as feedback. “We could—”

“Surrender, run, or what I hope we’ll do; shoot our way out.” Slayer interrupted as he finished calibrating the Ion Cannon and syncing the Auto Turrets. There was a discerning silence between the other two crew members before Drake spoke.

“We came this far, and there’s no way we could get out of this by surrendering...” He brought his attention to the glass window that separated himself from the Syndicate and Imperial vessels in the surrounding space. “Hell, I’m going with Slayer; might as well fight our way out. If we die, we go out with honour.”

“I understand taking on the Leviathan, but taking on a Dreadnought and the Leviathan at the same time is a completely different matter altogether.” Yuri basically cried into the intercom, the distress in his voice easily recognizable.

“Would you prefer going out like a coward, or going out with honour?” Slayer retorted.

“I would prefer to live, thank you very much. No reason to go out with honour if no one is alive to see it!” Yuri answered back.

“And our best chance to even hope to survive lies in using our guns and making our own way out,” Slayer retorted in response. “Most likely if Imperials are coming, that means that the Hammerdown will too, and that is not going to be pretty.

“Considering the relationship between the Syndicates’ Admiral, and the Imperials’ Admiral, their feud should grant us enough time to fight through the discombobulated fighters and do a tactical advance away from the conflict,” Slayer finished, kicking his feet back onto an inactive panel as he let the auto-turrets do their work.

“Unless they send a fleet instead of the Hammerdown, in which they kill us both and keep us from kicking ass in a different direction.” Yuri’s side of the comlink degenerated into the sound of a plasma torch becoming activated.

“I think you underestimate how deep the feud between Parkins and Moustaka truly is,” Slayer countered. “If Imperials know that Syndicate got a hold of Swaalan technology, no doubt it would draw out Moustaka even further.”

“So... All we have to do is hold on for a little while. Is that what you’re telling me?” Yuri asked, punching random buttons on the console in front of him, causing the drive to hum in a not so good way. Yuri kicked the drive, causing the hum to cease. He considered it an improvement.

“As long as nobody else shows up uninvited, then yes; that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Sounds like a plan... I hope.”

Drake’s voice crackled to life over both of their headsets, clearly agitated. “I hate both of you some days, you know that?”

“Drake... Is it your time of the month again?” Yuri commented rudely, snickering at the same time.

“What the bloody hell did we do?” Slayer asked, sticking his head out of the door to the weapons control room to glare at the back of Drake’s head.

“Because due to you idiots, the number of Syndicate fighters have doubled!” Drake roared as he dodged a small volley of missiles from said craft.

“Well, excuse me, Captain!” Yuri yelled into his comlink as he rushed around the Engine Room, checking on the Port and Starboard engines to ensure they were functioning properly. “But we kinda needed a game-plan!”

“Shut it,” Slayer muttered in a calm tone as he watched his turrets lock onto another wave of Snub-fighters and eliminate them. ”Just... focus. We’ll be fine.” As the words left Slayer’s mouth however, one of the fighters got a lucky barrage and impacted the Port side of the Ethereal, sending it into a physics-propelled corkscrew. Drake grumbled in annoyance as the ship rocked and he attempted to realign.

Drake twisted in his seat a bit and stared daggers at Slayer. “You were saying?” He grumbled as he fully leveled the Ethereal out.

“This is why I don’t talk that often...” Slayer grumbled as he turned back to his array of consoles and monitors.

“What the hell was that?” Yuri groaned, picking himself up from the floor of the Engine Room. He stumbled briefly from the jarring effect, before it wore away and he was able to continue working on the installation.

“That was Fate, paying both of you back for opening your mouths in a combat zone,” Drake replied, sending their ship into a roll to avoid another strafing run from an Syndicate Snub-Fighter. 

“Drake. I will backseat drive the shit out of you if you don’t shut your mouth, and get us as far as you can away from this fight!” Yuri yelled into the intercom, anger in his voice clearly understood by all. Though understood didn't mean excused, Slayer mused. Yuri got agitated and let it show far too easily, sometimes.

“I only spoke to create the battle plan,” Slayer interjected as he finally got the Shields stabilized to a further degree. “So I recommend you stop blaming us for faults due to your failure.”

“Slayer, I’m not blaming you two. I’m calling you two the tools used by Fate,” Drake replied in a disturbingly calm tone. Slayer recognized the tone; Drake used it once before blowing up an Alliance star-destroyer. Good times. “Yuri, we’ll get away faster if you stop yelling and find a way to increase our engine output so I don’t have to focus on that while I’m dodging a full missile battery that currently has a lock on us.”

Slayer sighed. It happened again; that random occurrence where he forgot to keep his attitude in check. Granted, he chose to join the little group of pirates of his own volition, so he was entitled to use whatever attitude he wished... but it wasn’t going to keep him alive. And his survival was the number one priority. “Very well, I’ll try and make sure everything on my end is sound.”

“Okay, I can only do one thing,” Yuri mumbled as he double-checked the diagnosis of the drive, “I can either get this Alien drive to work and possibly find a way to Earth... or increase the engine output to get away from here. The choice is up to you guys.”

“Earth,” Slayer stated without hesitation. “We’ve spent years building up to this point.”

“Drake?” Yuri asked.

Drake was silent for a long moment. On one hand, they could have a definite way to escape with the Ethereal intact, and sell all their loot for a momentous profit. Of course, them being pirates was less about the profits, and more about aiding the neutrals affected by the Civil War. On the other hand, though... they could find Earth. 

Earth. It was the whole reason why Drake founded the Cerberus Pirates in the first place: to find a way back to humanity’s home-world at any cost. It was what Jenna would have wanted. Drake let out an audible sigh. “Rear-shields at maximum. Yuri, get that drive installed ASAP.”

“Would you like to lock in your answer?” Yuri joked. Obviously, he thought it was a good time to crack wise.

“Just do it!” Drake and Slayer shouted in unison. Obviously, his crew-mates did not.

“You got it. Diverting all power to the rear shield!” Yuri’s hands swept over the console, sending all the unused power in the ship towards the shields. He then turned towards to the drive and began following the installation guide. “Slayer, I have an idea to give us a little bit of time.” Yuri commented, catching Slayer’s attention.

“Does it involve my guns?” The hope in Slayer’s voice was palpable to his two crew mates.

“You got it! Is the Ion Cannon charged?” Yuri asked with an equally-hopeful tone.

“I expect a round in about ten seconds.”

“Target the bridge when you fire it. If we can knock out its main systems, it'll give me enough time to install this drive!” Yuri exclaimed, diverting all of his attention then to installing the drive.

Slayer didn't skip a beat. He double-checked the Anti-Snub Turrets to make sure they were still targeting on Auto, and noted that the launcher was still eliminating any passing fighters thanks to the auto-fire script he upgraded it with.

Once satisfied with that, the weapons-specialist selected the Ion Cannon as it was still charging and aimed it at the Leviathan’s Bridge. He flipped back the firing switch and placed his finger on the trigger located on the remote stick he used. As he waited, his eyes stared diligently on the progress bar steadily increasing.

>Ion Cannon is: Primed

Slayer grinned and pulled his finger back, disengaging the lock on the inner workings of the weapon. The result was an instantaneous release of a blinding blue bolt of electricity. It ripped through the vacuum of space as it approached its mark. Slayer leaned in slightly due to anticipation, watching it get closer...

And closer...

‘Bullseye.’ Slayer smirked as he watched the blast strike the base of the Leviathan’s Bridge. Surges of ionic power flowed over its shell, undoubtedly disabling enough systems to buy the crew enough time for a solid jump. However, he relented on firing at a more crucial point, due to needing the Syndicate Flagships’ weapons to keep the Dreadnought at bay, which it was barely doing beforehand. 

“Slayer... the Leviathan is pulling away to engage the Valiant.” Drake called over the intercom. Slayer gave a light grunt; the Valiant was one of the premier Imperial vessels that tended to chase Cerberus out of their airspace. Figured it would be one of the first deployed by the Imperials to engage them.

“See? Told you.” Slayer muttered as he glanced at the radar to confirm that the large hulk of metal was pulling away slightly, as well as its fighters. Those were indicated by smaller dots flowing towards the parallel hull belonging to the Imperial vessel.

“Don’t get your hopes up yet. The frigates and most of the snubs are still coming after us. Mind doing something about that?” Yuri called, having been looking at a radar screen at the time.

Slayer grunted in response as he recharged the Ion Cannon once more. The ship rocked as another missile slammed into the rear shields, sending sparks flying in the engine room. Yuri dived to the floor and covered his head. After a little bit, he stood up, making sure nothing was breached.

“Could you maybe... start now?!” Yuri screamed. No response was given, but the batteries started firing at a more rapid rate. “Good Slayer, you deserve a cookie.” He joked, hands deep into the internal wires of the ship.

‘You deserve my metal boot up your ass,’ Slayer thought.

A loud cackling was heard over the intercom, accompanied by several loud, electronic pings. "Hehehehe. I can't thank you enough Cerberus. You've done all of our dirty work for us." 

Drake's blood ran cold and he felt his muscles freeze up. He'd know that voice anywhere. The voice of Fleet Admiral Mark Kinz, leader of the Alliance Separatists. A large fleet of ships appeared out of thin air as the Alliance fleet deactivated their cloaking devices and moved in to attack the Syndicate ships. 

"Now, hand over the Ethereal, and the Alien drive." He demanded, his voice now adopting a larger level of cockiness.

"Burn in hell, Kinz," Drake growled as he quickly got back to work and sealed the communication breach. "My only regret is not being able to kill you today."

Slayer looked back up to see the Alliance Fleet off the starboard side. He let out an irritated snort of air.  ‘Damn it...’

Yuri just sighed; nothing more, nothing less. The day started off great, but it had slowly degraded from less than shitty, to a river of fudge-colored crap. “Anyone have any ideas on what we do now that we have an Alliance capital ship after us as well?” Yuri groaned.

“Not exactly, no.” Drake remarked as he glanced back towards Slayer. “You got anything?”

Slayer simply stared at the Alliance ships, and then towards the space battle already in-progress. “Drones are faster than Snubs, but not as durable or effective unless in massive numbers. They’re fighting for the right to capture us as we speak.” He turned back to face Drake, staring at him with a hard gaze. “I suggest we jump for Earth, while they’re busy brawling.”

“Slayer... If you can tell me how to get to Earth, I would be more than happy to jump us there. This thing doesn't exactly have many non-Galactic Basic maps on it, ya know.” Yuri spoke.

“Scan the drive’s hyperspace routes. Use the panel on the side,” was the response. Slayer looked over at Drake to be met with a questioning glance. “All drives made by the Saalwan should have them, according to now-dead techs.” While Slayer's smile was invisible, it was still heard through the comlink. "I, of course, didn't have anything to do with that at all."

“Give me a few minutes, and keep those damn fighters off of us,” came Yuri’s muffled voice through the crews’ comlink.

Slayer nodded to himself, and primed the Sectic Launcher once again. 'Let’s see here...' he thought as he glanced at the two conflicting surge of dots vying for dominance around Ethereal’s airspace. ‘If I strike these three, it should cause a chain reaction... But that won’t work unless....’

Meanwhile, Yuri was trying to figure out how to access the drive’s Navigation menu, if there even was one. The installation guide had actually worked, so he had been able to hook it up to the reactor that powered the whole ship. Its appearance was the same powered up as it did without the main power hooked up to it. Heck, even the green glow looked the same...

“Ok, let’s see what you have in here,” Yuri mumbled to himself as he began to search through the command and core program files in what he guessed was the drive’s main computer. He was careful at the programs he opened, and even more careful at the files he moved. The last thing he wanted to do was to somehow blow up the ship, which had nearly happened on multiple accounts previous with less demanding hardware. 

“No... That’s the antimatter to liquid... Carbon? Never seen that before.” He mumbled to himself, not knowing how the drive worked. It was nearly as annoying as when Slayer had gotten drunk on Promet, which sapped a significant amount of the group’s stored credits as compensation for the events afterwards.

The Ethereal took a sudden lunge to the left, dodging  the now-increased push of both Syndicate and Alliance craft. The ship's occupants knew quite well that they could only fight so many forces at once, and the reinforcements coming in were cutting dangerously close to that limit.

“Slayer, how’s the ammo?” Drake called out.

“Doing good.” Slayer responded as he brought up the stats on an adjacent panel. He peered at it and spoke again. “Though, not for long. We got one silo left for the Sectic Launcher. Batteries may also be overheating soon at the rate we're firing.”

Yuri sighed and slumped up against the wall, slowing falling down onto one of the cold, metal grates of the engine room. He had searched every program that he could read or knew what it did. And nothing had worked. No star charts had opened with the desired results, no possible jumps.

Hell, the only thing that had changed was the user menu was now black, instead of red.  Which really did not look that well on it... hell, the red had given it a look that would strike mortal terror in many civilians. In a way, it comforted him.

‘Wait a second... Wasn't one of Sol’s bodies called the ‘Red Planet’...? What was the actual name though? Wait wait, that’s not important... Urgh, what was that detail?! The planet had something, a resource. It could be anything though: mercury, silver, iron...’

Iron...

“I'm a genius!” Yuri yelled, punching both of his arms into air. He ran over to the drive and grabbed a wire from the console, plugging it into one of the holes on its side.

“What did you find?” Drake asked, hearing the shout from the comlink. He only winced slightly, but he was used to Yuri being overzealous when he worked.

“Computer. Scan the Orion arm for any above C-class planet levels of iron oxide.” He yelled, excitement evident in his voice.

“Scanning... Scanning... Two-hundred and twenty five matches.” The computer answered in its dull tone. 

“Computer. Of those planets, how many are close to G-type main sequence stars?” He asked.

“There are thirty five.”

“Of those, which ones are more than three-hundred light years away from Canopus?” He asked, his voice giddy like a child receiving their first hover bike.

“One,” was it’s only response. Yuri jumped up and cheered in delight. He had done what no one else had ever been able to do, and in an insanely simple way. 

“Yuri,” Slayer called out. “I believe you got our target. Lock.”

“You got it!” He yelled, his fingers dancing over the keyboard with incredible speed. The drive began to hum as the computer did what Yuri could not and programmed the route into the Saalwan drive.

“Alright you two, let’s get out of here once that’s linked!” Drake shouted exuberantly. It rather surprised the crew, even Drake himself, at his giddiness. Then again, take into account of finally being able to escape the war they were forced to fight for the good of the innocent (but mainly themselves), and finding humanity’s lost home planet, and most likely any other person would be acting the same way.

The same could be said for Yuri, but instead of being forced into the war like so many others, he had joined it and done the ultimate sin. A sin that had been haunting him for his entire life. And now, he was finally going to be able to run away from it for good. 

Slayer had similar thoughts flow through his vision as explosions radiated around the Ethereal in flight. The glow of destroyed cores, tattered remnants of metal scrap, high-powered bolts of energy whizzing past into the void of space... in an ironic sort of way, he’d grown accustomed to this. Almost to the point of not wishing to see whatever new was in store. But, when thinking about his past, the one that started him on his road... he considered maybe, it wouldn’t be too bad.

Drake stared at the hyperspace data being uploaded to the screens in front of him. Earth. For the past five years of his life, he had dreamt of finding Earth. Finding it was the whole reason why he had founded the group in the first place. Five long years were finally coming to fruition, and he only had one regret now. Drake closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. She always wanted to see Earth. To stand on the soil that gave birth to our race, to breathe the air our ancestors did; to look up at the stars with the same wonder.  

“Locked on and ready when you are, el Capitan.” Yuri grinned, finally saying the words he had waited to say since joining the crew. To say he was happy was an understatement by a light year.

“Ready,” Drake mumbled, opening his eyes and staring through the thickets of battle. “Set...”

“Can we go already?” Slayer uttered in annoyance at the dramatic situation Drake was creating.

He rolled his eyes and saw the perfect opening. “Now!”

There was a lurch; an unexpected yank of the ship as a glow began encompassing the entire hull. The space before them seemed to stretch out, telling the crew that hyperspace was shortly awaiting. But of course, Lady Luck was rarely on Cerberus’ side for long, if at all.

Moments before escaping, a stray missile from a fighter affair smacked the Starboard engine of the Ethereal. The result was the ship’s angle being shifted to a significant degree, before the crew was launched forward into the deep recess of space.





Starbrought





Drake breathed a sigh of relief as he slumped back into his chair. The jump with the drive had been successful. The radar screen to his immediate left showed no hostile forces in whatever system they had arrived in. It did however, display a large green and bluish planet relatively close. 

With a flick of his wrist, Drake put the Ethereal into autopilot and raised a hand to his earpiece. "Good news, fellas. We made it out alive."

Slayer let out his own small sigh of relief as he rose from his position in the Weapon Command Room. "About time we got out of lethal space." 

Drake turned his chair around to face the weapon's specialist. "Nice call on that Ion Cannon," he said. "Did one hell of a number on the Leviathan.” 

The response was a simple shrug as the bounty hunter tapped a nearby screen. A resounding ding sounded as the system went offline to recharge and release heat. "We better go check on Yuri. Knowing him, he’s probably having trouble keeping our new prize in check." 

"You go on ahead," Drake waved off Slayer. "I'm going to run a few scans of this system first. I have no clue where we ended up." 

Down in the engine room, Yuri slowly picked himself up from the floor of the room, dusting himself off and making sure nothing had been broken. After doing a complete pat down of his body, he sighed in relief. "Thank God, that could have really hurt. Now, what the hell did you do...?" He stated, looking at the piece of Saalwan tech that brought them to wherever the hell this is. 

Drake spun back to the main control console and pressed a few buttons to initiate a preliminary scan of nearby space. "Huh, there's an awful lot of water on that planet," he noted as the scans immediately focused on the nearby celestial body. "What planet is that?" 

"UNKNOWN," the Ethereal's computer replied in a monotone, female-esque voice. 

Drake let out a groan. "What system?" 

"UNKNOWN." 

Drake raised an eyebrow. Could it be...? Legends say Earth was mostly water. Did they actually find it? Their ultimate goal? "Computer, are we in the Milky Way?" 

Silence filled the cockpit for several long moments. "NEGATIVE." 

Drake's heart immediately plummeted. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. But if they weren't in the Milky Way, where were they? Hyperdrives couldn't jump galaxies. Not Human-designed ones, at least.

"Yuri, status report," he requested as he activated his earpiece again. 

"Well, I got bad news and... worse news," Yuri said sadly, fiddling around with a bunch of wires in a panel.

"Bad first," Drake's voice requested. 

"Well, the bad news is that the drive is shot." A small amount of electricity arced somewhere in the now nearly-wrecked engine room. The Saalwan hyperdrive was billowing a small amount of smoke, and with an acrid smell flowing out from it. A cough left Yuri from the unexpected release.

A groan of frustration filled Yuri's ear. "Anything else?" 

"Let me see..." Yuri rolled out of the web of wires, and walked over to one of the computer consoles. He typed in and slammed his fist into the console in anger. "Yep, here's the worse news: the shields are gone, and I mean gone. The shield generator is all but useless and the backup has no power running to it."

"Just a moment then," Drake grumbled. Yuri listened intently as the sounds of Drake's frantic typing came over the earpiece. "I'm going to manually override some of the power systems to see if I can divert some energy to our shields. Not that we really need them, since we're in a non hostile zone. But it's better to be safe than sorry.”

"Speaking of which... where the hell are we?" Yuri said over the gradually louder hum of power. 

"We are in the middle of nowhere," Drake said sarcastically. "Literally. Scans can't even tell where we are. I'm officially calling this sector of space 'H'." 

Slayer merely raised an eyebrow as he listened to his comlink. He had taken the lift down to examine his workspace (monitoring Yuri wasn’t on his list of concerns), to ensure the energy cells obtained from the Leviathan raid were still functional. The bantering commentary of his crewmates occupied his thoughts for a moment.

"Why sector 'H'?" Both Yuri and Slayer asked at the same time, although the latter sounded far less concerned or confused about the matter.

"Because the letter 'H' is the middle letter of 'nowhere'," Drake explained. "I was making a joke and trying to lighten the situation."

Slayer merely shrugged to himself as he walked into his workspace. It was a modest little chamber, filled with a variety of canisters for storing power cells, stands for sheets of metal, and workbenches to integrate specific parts. He began to search the slightly messy area for his goal, making notes about what to fix due to all the hits they took.

"I don't get it; how can we be in the middle of nowhere, if we don't know where nowhere is?" Yuri exclaimed, now slightly more confused. 

There was a pause over the headset. "Slayer, smack Yuri as hard as you can without killing him when you get down there." 

The ex-bounty hunter let out a small chuckle as he heard the request, and seeing his cells still intact. "In a moment. Checking things out on the Lower Deck." 

"Is the kitchen on fire... Again?” Drake asked as he began shutting off unneeded systems. 

"Slayer, I need you to check the weapons grid, I'm getting strange readings from the Ion Cannon." Yuri’s voice arrived over his comlink.

Slayer side-stepped over to his secondary weapons panel on the wall and pulled up the statistics. “It’s fine.” He muttered, rolling his eyes and placing a piece or so of vital equipment back into its original cluttered, yet organized form. Yuri just grunted in confusion of the energy readings he was receiving, and went back to assessing damage in Engineering.

Slayer meanwhile strolled out of his space to check the neighbouring rooms. A quick swipe of his hand over the sensor later, and the Kitchen's door slid open from the half. Luckily, there were no fires present, and the small mini-bar that Yuri installed had all of its liquor still properly shelved.

Snagging a bottle of 'Yisten Yeager', he sent a neurotic message to the Suit. Its’ response was revealing the small hole where his mouth would be. A personal upgrade. Satisfied, he took a large swig and set it back. "Everything’s *hic*... good in the Kitchen." 

"Please tell me you aren't already—" Drake began before several warning lights flared to life on the console in front of him. 

Slayer readjusted his helm and resealed it. Listening to the lights flashing and the sirens blaring, he simply sighed and rolled his shoulders to crack his back. Slayer made a note to visit a chiropractor next chance he got. "What is it this time? Wait... I'm not sure I truly want to know."

"Drake... Are you getting the same thing on your end?" Yuri said with a hushed voice, staring at a rapidly blinking screen in front of him. 

"Unfortunately!" Drake shouted from his end.  "Hold on tight boys, 'cause our shields are down and we just exited hyperspace directly into the path of a meteor shower!" 

Slayer strolled to the table where the crew normally ate, and reclined back in one of the seats with a separate bottle of alcohol. Another swig he took. 'If it's not one thing, it's another...'

Drake's hands flew across the main controls as he attempted to increase the power of the Ethereal's shields. He had limited control (due to the power consumption of the piloting systems), unlike the unrestricted access of Slayer’s panel and the overriding access of Yuri from his panel down in Engineering, but it was enough to increase the power easily.

The engine room began to rattle and shake as the reactor began to glow a sickly blue. Yuri was thrown off his feet and onto the metal grate of the floor. He climbed up to the console and began to desperately try to reroute more power to the shields, but it was all for naught. 

Slayer gripped the table and held himself to avoid being flung by turbulence. Quickly standing and exiting the room, he tapped the sensor and sealed the door. Moving swiftly towards the lift, he jabbed one of the few buttons on the accompanying panel and stepped into the door.  

It closed and a few brief moments later, it reopened back at the Upper Deck. He began trudging towards his seat which commanded the Ethereal's Weapon Systems, but the turbulence was slowing him down. If it wasn't for his armour, no doubt he'd been flung all over the cockpit. 

"Focus on moving, and less on shields. We need to conserve power towards actual functioning systems..." He mumbled as he sat back down at his Weapon centre.

"Easy,” he was interrupted a thud, “for you to say!" Yuri screamed into the headset. He tried to hold onto the center console but ended up being slammed into the wall. The Ethereal shook violently as the meteors wore down on the shields, rapidly eating away at their energy. In less than a minute, the shields became visible before fading out. 

"Son of a—” Drake shouted. “Shields are down!” 

Slayer was still sitting in his revolvable chair, staring out the helm of the ship with Drake frantically tapping away in the foreground. "It seems the stream of meteors are blocking off any routes... except for one..." He leaned forward slightly to identify the spot. "Is that... a desert?" 

“Yes, I’m trying to land us somewhere soft that won’t drown us, thank you!” Drake snapped as he gripped the controls tightly. A rather large meteor slammed into the side of the Ethereal, throwing it into a spin and disabling the interior artificial gravity generator. 

Slayer slowly began to float, but yanking himself back down to his seat and strapping himself in ceased that. 

"Oh come on!" Yuri shouted as another thud sounded out. The gravity could not have turned off at the worst of times. Yuri was caught off guard and was thrown into one of the pipes that had some sort of gas flowing through it. 

“Yuri!” Drake shouted as his nerves began to wear even thinner. “Fix the damn generator!” 

Yuri reached behind his head and felt blood. Turning around, he looked at the pipe and discovered it was covered in blood.  "Drake... I'll get on it, but I need medical help." He began to feel woozy but ignored it and floated towards the direct gravity control panel. He tore some wires out and plugged some together. He pushed a button on the console and dropped himself onto the grate. Hard. 

Another barrage of meteors slammed into the hull of the ship, further throwing the ship into a spin. 

“WARNING. REAR STABILIZERS OFFLINE,” The Ethereal’s interior computer announced. 

“Slayer, we are probably going to die,” Drake said. “Admittedly, Yuri will probably go first if that thud is anything to go off of.” 

Slayer merely sat there, staring out the window at the onslaught of meteors whizzing past the ship's vision as it further span around. It was a common occurrence; in stressful situations, his personality shifted from callous and bloodthirsty and became rather silent and calculating. Surprisingly, he began to speak. "Where's the Repair Drone, R1-B5?" 

“Gone. We lost him two weeks ago when we raided that Alliance Supply Ship. Remember?” 

"What about the Medical Bot, E-7?" 

"Currently in use." A strained voice went through their headsets. 

“What good would a medical droid do for a ship?” Drake asked. 

Slayer rolled his eyes and tapped one of his consoles and began typing in commands aloud. "E-7, administer Substance P3 to Yuri, then go offline in the Cargo Hold." 

“WARNING. APPROACHING ATMOSPHERE AT DANGEROUS VELOCITY. SEVERAL HULL BREACHES DETECTED IN ENGINEERING. HULL INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. ATMOSPHERIC ENTRY NOT ADVISED.”

“That drive was so not worth it!” Drake growled. 

Slayer rolled his eyes and spoke through his comlink. "Yuri... you good?" 

Yuri slowly stood up, and rubbed his arm. The drug had sealed up his wound, but he was still woozy. "It helped, but it's still—" He was cut off by the sound of metal being torn against itself.  "Drake... What the hell is going on...?" 

“We’re dying,” Drake grumbled. 

“WARNING. I’M SCARED, DRAKE. WILL I DREAM?” 

“You’re a diagnostic program that is not self-aware, so no.” 

Slayer had cast a disgruntled look at the P.A. system of the Ethereal. ‘Note to self: If we survive, disable that damned A.I...’

Drake and Slayer both winced as a smaller meteor shattered through the viewport and smashed the control console in front of Drake. The air in the cockpit rushed out for a single, brief second before a steel plate rose in place of the glass that was now missing. 

“I think the problem solved itself,” Drake said as he rolled the meteor off. 

"What, being able to see death? If so, the steel plate has certainly helped." 

Drake flung a piece of shattered glass at Slayer. “Shut up. It’s only that left side.” 

The piece of glass simply collided with Slayer's shoulder before it shattered into multiple shards and fell to the floor. He glanced back up to determine that indeed only the left side of the viewport had been sealed. "The planet is on the left side..." 

“And we’re being pulled towards it,” Drake reminded him. “I’m not too worried about finding the planet.” 

"Guys... We got a problem," Yuri managed to gasp into the intercom after coughing. “A big problem.”

“Speak of the devil,” Drake said. “Go Yuri.” 

"Tritium 369 is leaking from the core..." He gasped again, struggling to open the door as he got weaker and weaker. Drake and Slayer looked at each other for a moment. 

“Seal it all off and get out of there Yuri.” Drake ordered. “We’ll worry about it after we land.” 

"Is anyone by the door to the engine room?" He gasped, rapidly running out of air. 

"Negative." Slayer retorted. 

"Please keep it that way for a second." He stood up and stumbled towards the reactor. After gaining some distance, he rammed the steel door with his shoulder. The result was him blasting through the door and collapsing onto the cold floor.

Yuri wheezed, and crawled over to the emergency airlock control. He had a massive coughing fit from the lack of oxygen, but soon enough he had crawled close enough to seal the emergency door, trapping the radioactive gas inside the chamber. But, during his short time exposed to it, he had most likely signed his own death warrant. Then again, the effects of Tritium hadn’t been tested to whether it had long-lasting and detrimental effects or not...

Drake rapidly pulled on a series of levers next to him as he attempted to slow their rapid descent into the atmosphere of the uncharted planet. An orange and red tinted fire was forming around the helm of the Ethereal. 

“Come on! Come on!” Drake growled. “We didn’t come this far just to die in a crash!”

"Thanks for all the help." Yuri stumbled into the cockpit, collapsing against a side panel. 

“You’re welcome,” Drake snapped. 

Slayer glanced back towards Yuri, then back to his work before doing a double-take. "You look like shit."  Another meteor chose that moment to slam into the Ethereal, causing several panelings to come loose and fall on Yuri. 

"Fine job you’re doing there, Drake. I wish I knew where you got your flight training from, so I could punch said thing in its face." Yuri growled, attempting to remove the piles of metal now on top of him but failing. 

“We. Are. Crashing,” Drake snarled. “Flight training means shit.” 

"You’re still doing a good job in that department.” Yuri groaned with sarcasm in response as he glanced towards the armoured warrior of the group.  “Slayer, a little bit of help here?" 

Slayer stood leisurely and flipped over the lowest sheet of metal on Yuri, sending the other bits towards one of the corners of the cockpit. It was a smooth maneuver, and Slayer simply shook his head at the simplicity of removing the debris. "Next time, try harder." He muttered as he returned to his spot. 

The Ethereal began shaking more violently as it continued its downward descent into the night-darkened side of the planet. Fire roared off of its sides, illuminating the skies like a small star. Slayer sighed as he watched the rapidly-approaching ground. He looked over at Drake, and spoke in a collected tone. "So much for our Crusade, eh?" 

“Weird, I thought it would involve more explosions, alcohol, and large amounts of big breasted women,” Yuri said as he closed his eyes. Yuri wondered if he'd had enough time to run back down to Storage and finish the Trevanian wine before they crashed. Probably not.

“This is it boys,” Drake said solemnly. “This is how we die.” 

Silence fell over the three pirates as the dark ground rushed up to meet them. To any observer on the planet, they would have heard the screech of metal, accompanied by the shattering of glass and no less than two explosions, followed by silence. A fatal, deadly silence.
> {Edited} Chapter Two - Where They Fell
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





The night was serene. Only a few trace clouds floated over from the forest on the outskirts of the desert several miles away. The stars shone brilliantly, and created a perfect picture for one to easily enjoy the beauty that was Princess Luna’s night sky.

Amongst the seemingly endless dunes that made up the Zebrican Desert, a lone flame burned in the center of a group of ponies pulling supplies off of an ornate wagon. From the moonlight reflecting off the majority of their armor, one could make the assumption they were soldiers. Princess Cadance's Royal Guard, to be precise.

“Can you believe that we are going to be seeing this?” Princess Cadance exclaimed as she finished assisting her guards in constructing their campsite. It wasn’t completely finished, but the guards were determined to do the work themselves. After all, Cadance was a Princess, even if she wasn’t as well known as either of her aunts, and it was the duty of the Guard to tend to their Princess’ needs when traveling.

Her accompanying Captain of the Guard and friend of almost fifteen years, Shining Armor, chuckled as Cadance repeatedly broke royal mannerisms to let out a series of excited giggles. “Don’t worry mi’lady. From what I’ve read, the Night of the Falling Skies is truly a sight to behold,” he said with a grin. “And we couldn’t have asked for a better view.”

“Or better company,” Cadance added, lightly nudging Shining Armor’s shoulder as she strode past. The unicorn stallion watched her walk away toward some of the non-guard ponies that were always assigned to be part of the royal escort, briefly admiring the gently swaying of her flanks as she walked.

Shaking his head to clear away the indecent thoughts his mind was starting to venture toward, he spun around to face the rest of his troops, looking for two in particular. “Sergeant Iron Shield and Private Fierce Wind!” Shining Armor’s voice rang out. The Unicorn and Pegasus respectively snapped to attention, saluting their superior officer. “Establish a perimeter! I don’t want any surprises.”

“Yes, sir!” The two of them shouted as they took off to retrieve the necessary supplies and tools they brought with them for this security measure. They ran to the supply carriage to acquire their weapons before proceeding to circle the camp from a distance.

Fierce Wing flew ahead of Iron Shield, securing the dozen conduits that would serve as an early warning system (once Iron Shield activated them with his magic) in the sand. As Iron Shield activated the conduits, a beam of faint, pale blue light connected them together until the camp was surrounded with a glowing ring. The light persisted for several seconds after the last conduits were linked together before vanishing, leaving behind a hidden spell that only the most adept unicorn mages would be able to spot. Fierce Wing and Iron Shield nodded to each other before taking up positions at the Eastern and Western most points of the circle respectively.

Satisfied that the perimeter conduits were in position and active, Shining Armor turned back to his Princess. As she was gazing up expectantly towards the star-filled sky, he began take in everything about her. Despite the dim lighting from the moonless night, her coat seemed to positively glow, to an awe-inspiring degree. Her eyes glistened as her pupils shook slightly in unhindered excitement. She was beautiful, that much was obvious in his eyes, though he wasn’t in any position to voice his opinions on her appearance without her requesting it.

When she looked back towards him to see him ogling her, he turned his head away with a faint blush. No doubt the rosy cheeks were visible, but Cadance decided not to call him out as she asked, “Do you think I’m ready for all of this?” She turned her gaze back toward the night sky. Any moment now, the lights of the Night of the Falling Skies would be visible. “Am I really the right choice for setting up trade relations with the Zebras?”

Shining Armor turned his head back towards her. He wasn’t expecting the question, especially how she seemed so confident when she met with the leader of the Zebras, Shamon. For her to suddenly start second guessing herself made Shining Armor wonder how long she had had this mindset.

“Of course,” he replied immediately with a comforting smile. “I have complete faith in you. You handled that meeting like a pro. You had the Zebras practically eating out of your hooves.” A faint blush was visible on Cadance’s cheeks, almost unnoticeable in the dim light. Shining Armor strode over to her side and sat down next to her. 

“Think about what this means for both Equestria and the Zebrican Republic. The only relationship our kind have ever had with one another was the occasional traveler Pony who wanted to explore the desert or a Zebra hermit who took up residence in Equestria. You just accomplished what neither Princess Celestia or Princess Luna ever accomplished.”

She took the words into consideration before smiling back at her Captain. “Thanks, Shiny,” He smirked in response as she rose her head towards the sky once more, “I needed that.” Deciding she might want some silence, Shining Armor elected himself to go and position the rest of the perimeter guards for the viewing.

“Corporal Shadow Wing!” A gray coated pegasus landed two feet before him in mid-salute. “Take Private Strong Hammer and Private Short Sword to the dune in the South and patrol the Neigh-el River near it. Alert me if anything seems out of the ordinary.” As the soldier launched himself into the air, Shining turned toward the rest of the guards. “The rest of you! Take turns finishing up camp and start the first watch!”

A resounding “Yes, sir!” echoed around the area as the guards went off to their various jobs. The aides that Cadance had brought with her begun to set up their own camp a small distance away from the guards camp. It was important to keep the two groups apart (or so the aides would claim), considering the aides and servants were actually of noble birth. So, the two groups kept their tents apart; the aides with their stylish and luxurious shelters, and the guards with their efficient and manageable ‘homes’.

Soon, all the tents had been set up, and everypony was getting comfortable for the Night of the Falling Stars. The guards not on duty were sitting around their campfire while they told stories and had a good time, while the more ‘snooty’ of the bunch (the aides) preferred to sip on cups of tea in a diamond-formation with no fire (they couldn’t have soot on their coats after all). As they did this, they regaled each other with sophisticated pieces using what instruments they were allowed to bring. And then, it began...

A single, shooting star shot across the sky, leaving a beautiful green and white trail in its way. The singular bolt was beautiful, in every sense of the word. And soon, it was joined by its brothers and sisters as the sky turned from a blank canvas, to a swirling masterpiece of colors that gave the night sky magnificence unmatchable by any artisan.

“It's beautiful, isn’t it Shiny?” Princess Cadance murmured as she stared at the light display.
Shining Armor gave her a glance out of the corner of his eye. Cadance’s eyes were practically sparkling with excitement. Though he wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, he could easily think of something more beautiful.

Silently chuckling to himself, he turned his gaze back upon the heavens. “It sure is,” he said. Cadance gave him a small smile and shifted herself closer to him, tilting her head slightly so it rested against him. Shining Armor did his best to hide the blush on his face.

'Focus,' He told himself. 'Keep yourself focused. She is your Princess. You are her Guard Captain. I am a coiled spring right now. Tension and power. Just… What the hay is that?'

A single, bright white light tinged with red and orange had turned away from the trajectory of the meteors filling the night sky. Instead it was angled toward the ground. More specifically, in the general direction of their camp.

Cadance’s eyes went wide with shock. “Shiny…” She rose to her hooves and started backing up nervously as the light rapidly grew larger and larger. Shining Armor stood up as well, his horn blazing with a bright, magenta light. The roar of flames could be heard now as the light rocketed toward their camp.

With a flash, a large, orb shaped shield surrounded the camp as Shining Armor cast his spell. The light collided with the shield and bounced off with a loud explosion, instead crashing into the sand several hundred yards away, where a second explosion shortly followed.

“What was that?” One of the guards exclaimed.

“It fell from the sky!” One of the aides shouted.

“You don’t say…” Shining Armor muttered under his breath. “Cadance? Are you… alright…?” His voice trailed off as he looked over at Cadance only to see her galloping in the direction of the fallen meteor. She looked back at him with a wide grin on her face.

“Are you coming?” She asked eagerly. Shining Armor didn’t even hesitate to nod his head in agreement. He had been ready to do the same thing.

“Let’s go!” He said, galloping after his Princess with a grin to match hers.





Starbrought





Sparks echoed around the ruined cabin of the Ethereal. Deadly, jagged pieces of twisted metal poked out of corners and pipes, ready to lacerate anything into submission. Smoke lingered around inside the interior, punctuated only by beams of moonlight coming from the now ruined cockpit and emergency lights. The smell of scorched metal hung heavily in the air, as was the smell of melted iron and burnt accessories. The distant sound of hissing gas, along with the dull sound of alarms going off, could be heard throughout the ship. 

A noise similar to a groan originating from the cockpit echoed around the ship, and the same time bounced off the ruined walls of the ship. “Urgh... Drake, this is all your-” Yuri began before being interrupted by his own bout of hacking. He then collapsed onto the ground, coughing up a small storm.

After a few minutes of furious coughing, Yuri shakily stood back up and sat down in his barely-intact chair. A swift, intelligent statement flashed through his mind as the haze of the asthmatic-esque attack settled. I hope that Tritium doesn’t give radiation poisoning, or I’m going to be screwed, he thought as he began surveying the damage.

“If this didn't kill you, Drake, I will,” Yuri said to no one in particular. “Well then, let’s see how fucked we are.” The tech mumbled as he stood up and staggered towards the lift. The brief thought of not spotting Drake, and seeing Slayer slumped over his console flashed through his groggy mind as he rode down towards the main level of the Ethereal. As he walked through the now-ruined hallway, he began realizing just how much damage the ship took on its crash.

“Yup. I’m going to kill him,” he grumbled as he neared the cargo bay, checking to make sure all of his booze he had looted from the Leviathan was still intact. Thankfully, it seemed most of it survived. Yuri frowned in sadness at the few shattered bottles leaking their contents across the floor.

Yuri's body and blood froze when he heard something similar to footsteps coming down the same hall he just walked. His hand reached towards his belt, swiftly drawing his pistol as he closed in on the sound. It was heavy, sporadic, and grunts of what sounded like pain echoed off behind every step. He just barely looked around the corner only to come face-to-face with Slayer’s mask.

The result of the near-headbutt involved Yuri jumping back in fright while the hunter’s metallic body remained unwavering. The armour was relatively sound, but a small crack had formed on the forehead of the battle-glass.

“Oh, hey Slayer,” Yuri muttered weakly as he straightened up to look at the other pirate.

“Where’s Drake?” was Slayer’s brisk response as he walked over and patted down a slightly upturned foot locker. He plucked a grenade from the depths of the container, and clipped it to his utility belt.

Yuri was about to respond when he froze. He hadn’t seen him since he woke up and walked about. His face took on a look of horror. “I... I don’t know.”

Slayer raised an eyebrow at this through the concealment of his helm and dragged his hand over his ‘face’. When his hand brushed over the crack on his helmet, he groaned and turned on his heel to walk towards his workspace. “Great...” Slayer trailed off as he began maneuvering past fallen debris and bent paneling, “I have a cracked screen.”

Yuri furrowed his brow and pursed his lips in concern. 'If Drake wasn’t onboard, where is he...? Actually, the more pressing question is whether I can still get revenge on him for crashing us or not...'

As the technician considered the implications and possible murder methods of the missing pirate captain, Slayer strolled into his workspace and magnetically locked the door. Surprisingly, it was still-functioning despite all the turmoil the Ethereal took on its ‘graceful landing’. Satisfied that everything was in order and that he was alone, he wandered over towards one of the cargo canisters that hung on the wall. He pried it open with his left hand and gazed inside.

This particular one had three stout shelves built into it. The largest on the top had three items on it. A datapad that held some schematics for a few modifications on his sword, a small welding torch, and finally, a spare battle-glass replacement. He ignored the contents of the lower shelves as he plucked the replacement and closed the container. 

Slayer slowly tilted his head, hearing and feeling the beautiful symphony of popping. He sighed and tapped his helm. It was an unneeded gesture since everything was neural-based, but he performed the physical movement regardless for kicks. As the damaged charcoal mask clattered to the floor, he let his fingers idly trace over his exposed visage. Silence loomed in the room before he gripped the replacement firmly in his two hands, and slid it into position. It locked with a satisfying hiss, and Slayer went to work syncing the piece to his Suit.

Once he had finished, he picked up the useless predecessor and lazily tossed it towards a bin filled with similarly out-of-commission parts. He popped open the lock on the door, and strolled outside while closing it once again. He glanced around, only to see he was alone. 'Where the hell did he go...?'

Meanwhile, Yuri had left Slayer to his devices and was now intently staring at the steel door that led to the currently-radioactive engine room. He looked through the small port in the door, making sure that the engine was still intact, but more importantly to make sure that the Reactor pressure vessels weren’t damaged. The room was a total mess. However, from what Yuri could tell on the panels—and what he could see with his trained eyes—it was still doing its job. He sighed a breath of relief and slumped down, taking a rest.

Slayer had elected to go to one of the nearby terminals and log in. They had several scattered about the various rooms, so basic stats and system commands were available damn-near anywhere one would need them. His purpose for doing this was two things: one was scanning the entirety of the ship for both of the other pirates' positions, the other was assessing the planet outside.

Needless to say, he was surprised about the latter.

The planet, from what he could gather as they plummeted towards its surface, was strikingly similar to coastal planets that other explorers had discovered in the past couple of centuries. Yet, the atmosphere he was witnessing (as indicated from the semi-functioning atmospheric sensors) was far more varied. The mixed biomes were complete polar opposites, and so close too. 'A rain forest next to a desert? How does that even work?!'

The only other planet Slayer knew about with semi-similar conditions like this was Earth.

'I truly wonder whether this is it or not,' Slayer pondered as he locked onto Yuri’s position. Drake’s was unknown on the ship, which made him weary of the hall he stood in. Realizing however, that the tech was standing outside the room where the gas breach occurred during their ‘landing’, he removed a gas mask from the emergency casing on a nearby wall and lowered himself into the Engine room. “Yuri, what’s the situation?”

Yuri glanced behind himself at the question, and turned back. “The good news is that the Reactor vessels are alright, so we can cross out ‘being vaporized’ off our ‘Ways to Die’ list. The door is sealed until the radiation has been cleaned out of it, so we are not getting out of wherever the hell we are until...” He paused as he spun around slowly and gestured towards the mask. “Why the hell did you bring a gas mask? Tritium probably works through the skin, which renders your mask useless.” 

If Yuri could see Slayer’s face, it would closely resemble a deadpanned stare. “It was for you,” he stated in a flat tone as he chucked the face-wear at Yuri, “never mind now, I suppose.” With that said, Slayer twisted around and started walking back to the Cockpit without another word. 'Last time I care about the ass.'

“Someone's on their man period...” Yuri muttered tactlessly before turning his head back towards the hall Slayer went down. “Hey, wait for me!” He yelled, standing up and running after the pirate. Half of the reasoning for not wanting to be near the Engine room where he nearly died, and the other for not wanting to be lonely.

As Slayer heard the shout, he was already in the lift, ready to push the button to ascend. As he briefly poked his head out and saw Yuri barreling towards him, he quickly pulled back and started frantically pressing the ‘up’ button. He hated riding the lift with Yuri. Nine times out of ten, a disgusting smell would arise, and Yuri would politely state in a frustrating tone: excuse me. 'Come on... come on...'

He smirked triumphantly as the door closed milliseconds before Yuri could slide in. He heard a small bout of cuss words before the door opened up to the cockpit. Thankfully, the actual electronics managing the systems themselves seemed to be in relatively good shape. It wouldn't take much elbow grease to fix. It was here, though, that Slayer noticed something off.

The window directly in front of Drake’s chair was shattered, replaced with a metal sheet slid into place. As he walked toward the chair, he noted the subtle tilt of the captain’s chair in the same direction as the port. Suddenly, pieces were coming together about their missing ‘leader’...





Starbrought





Several Hours Earlier

Pieces of the Ethereal’s outer hull lay scattered around Drake. When they had slammed into the sandy surface of the planet, the pirate captain had been thrown from his chair and through the damaged view-port. He was fortunate the Ethereal hadn’t crushed him as it continued to bounce, skid and slide for several hundred yards.

All around him, dunes of sand rose and fell like gentle waves in the ocean. Drake’s unconscious form lay splayed over the granules, his left arm bent around at an unnatural angle. His chest rose and fell slightly, the only indicator of life within him. Blood steadily flowed from the cut on his forehead, the sticky goo trickling down his temple and pooling in the hot sand. Shards of glass and metal stuck out from various parts of Drake’s body, none of them digging too deeply into his skin to be immediately life threatening. He moaned a little in his unconsciousness, pain evident in his face.

The pain woke him if only briefly. He tried to fight through the blurry vision fighting against him, and faintly noticed it was nighttime. If he wasn’t so injured, he would have laughed at his luck. 'Wounded, in a desert at night. At least I’ll be warm when the sun comes up.'

He attempted to raise himself from the sand, only for several pinprick-like sensations to course through his body. This unexpected surge brought him back down to the ground below him, and let out yet another moan of pain. Besides the small amount of crackling fire from the debris around him, that he could recognize in his state, he found interest in two particular sounds; voices from a short distance away. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but he didn’t much care.

'The others must’ve woken up,' Drake thought as he closed his eyes. 'They’ll drag me back to the ship and patch me up.'

As he succumbed to the void of unconsciousness, the voices became more pronounced. In fact, one of them sounded feminine. The slight sound of sand parting for footsteps were far more common than what one would think from two bipeds. Though, the two equines approaching the crash site proved a reliable answer for this.

The excitement was evident in every bouncy step Princess Cadence took as she approached the flaming debris. She didn’t imagine that one meteorite would land so close, and now her inner astronomer was leaking out; desperate for exploring this rare occurrence. Most rocks that fell through from the Night of the Falling Skies burned up and shrunk to the size of marbles. So the fact that one of this size could even survive (let alone land so close), well, there was no excuse not to go.

Concerned for her safety, Shining Armor tagged along. He figured the rest of the Guard could handle the site, and rarely was there anything dangerous at this point of night in the deserts. Of course, that didn’t stop him from arranging such a force. Not to mention of course, he saw no harm in sharing in her excitement, especially if he got to spend some time alone with his Princess. Shining Armor idly glanced over at Cadence as they approached.

“You seem really eager,” he commented.

She shook herself out of her exuberant stupor, having briefly forgotten that he was with her. “Oh, it’s going to be wonderful! Though, perhaps we should have brought some more Guards so we could snag a larger sample...”

He shrugged. “It means we’ll have more stuff to carry, and a higher chance of dropping them.” He smirked, “Though, between the two of us, I’m sure we’ll be able to acquire more than necessary.”

After the statement, the duo remained in silence as they stopped. It was certainly... different than what they were expecting a hunk of rock from space to look like from up close. For one thing, it looked metallic. Yet, any attempts to find out would result in a burn, as was quickly shown by Shining Armor’s attempt to poke the side to confirm.

Small fires illuminated the nearby area with its warmth. The brief afterthought of two explosions reverberated in their minds. Could a rock do that? Could it explode twice? Cadance thought curiously.

Shining paused though as he saw a piece of metal sitting in the sand. Curious, he walked over and touched it. Not the best idea sure (if his previous attempt was any testament to that fact), but he tested it regardless. However, unlike the larger piece of the behemoth, it was only slightly warm, just cool enough to touch safely. He picked it up with ease, confirmed that it was indeed metal. He turned his head to look at Cadence, who had begun strafing the rock. “Cadence, I found a piece of metal. What do you suppose this is exactly?”

She paused in her walk to speak. “I’m... not sure,” she said, striding over to stare at the metal chunk in her Captain’s hoof. “I know some meteorites contain chunks of metal, but beyond that…”  Before she could even begin to wonder how the metal formed a perfectly flat surface, a groan sounded out from just over the edge of the trench the falling space debris had carved into the sand.

Both of their ears revolved towards the sound, followed by their heads. As their horns began to illuminate with the faint aura of light casting spells, Cadence took cautious steps backwards to address her current Guard. “You heard that too?”

He nodded. “I’ll go first-”

“No, I’ll go first,” Cadence interrupted. Shining mentally groaned at the passion and brashness in her eyes. “I can take care of it. Besides, it didn’t sound threatening. It sounds like something’s in pain.”

Shining snorted lightly in exasperation. “We’ll go at the same time?”

Cadence was about to disagree, before another short groan reached their ears. She lowered her hoof and nodded. When both were side-by-side, they carefully inched their ways around, ready to strike down anything that was waiting for them. But when they peered into the ditch, all they spotted was some strange beast, lying down, occasionally groaning in pain.

“What is that?!” Cadence whispered frantically. The two pairs of eyes were looking at the body of... something. It seemed to be a weird cross of several creatures, much like a Manticore. It had the upper body similar to a Minotaur, while its legs seemed to thicker and more proportionate to its body, much like that of a Diamond Dog. Another striking feature of the being was its clothing. It was nothing like they've seen before.

One particular thought began to gain momentum the longer they stared at the incapacitated body. This creature was something Cadance had never seen before, and in her studies over the years, she had seen images and descriptions of almost every known creature in Equestria and beyond. And the one in the ditch was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Which left one wild, highly unlikely possibility.

It was... an alien.





Starbrought





“So, let me get this straight..." Yuri asked, confused and in disbelief as he sat in his chair within the cabin. "During the crash, Drake flew out of the window—breaking the Quartz glass in the progress, which is no small feat—and might have somehow avoided being crushed by the Ethereal during its landing?” 

Slayer nodded as he stood over the Captain’s chair in the cockpit. He had basically pieced together what happened rather easily: the jar of the impact sent Drake, who was closest to the remaining undamaged port window, through the sheet and landed outside. Though, whether he wasn’t crunched by the ship or not was something they’d have to go outside to find out.

“So... What do we do next?" Yuri thought out-loud as he began slowly spinning in his chair. A thoughtful expression appeared on the engineer's face. "I mean; we could just go out there and try to find Drake, if he hasn't been crushed and/or eaten by a predator. But..."

Slayer considered it as he strode towards the lift. “I’ll look first. If I find a trace that Drake isn't somehow out there, follow and leave a trail so we have a means to get back here.” He stepped into the tight elevator and turned back to face the tech as his hand hovered over the button. “Got it?”

“Roger. In the meantime, I’m going to try to find out how badly the ship is fucked!” Yuri affirmed as he spun back around and started typing commands into the control panel, suddenly humming a rather cheerful tune to himself.

Slayer nodded as he pressed the ‘descend’ button. Upon the closing of the lift's door, however, Slayer's body sagged and he raised a middle finger towards the direction of the cockpit. He hoped Yuri got that. 'He’s far too hyper for his own good,' he thought with the slightest sneer as he walked out the door and did a sharp right. As he proceeded down the narrow hallway towards the rear exit, he did a quick check of his systems.

The crash didn't seem to rough up any of his power cells, nor any of his weapons, which was good. It was one thing to be stranded on an unknown planet. It was another to be stranded on an unknown planet without really big guns.

Noting the sufficient power level to keep him going without a recharge, Slayer finished his walk to the main circular chamber of the Lower Deck. Opposite of the way he just came was the rear hatch door, sitting in silence and shut off from the howling sands outside. The several rooms to his right from back-to-front was his workspace, the Kitchen/Med-bay, and two storage rooms for smaller goods that couldn’t fit into the Cargo Bay. The center of the chamber was occupied with a holographic planetary map. Of course, since they didn’t know where they were, it was indistinguishable from a nameless blue orb suspended in mid-air.

The rooms to his left were the dorms for the crew. He had the left one, Drake had center, and Yuri had the one of the far right. He briefly walked into his room and navigated towards his cot. It was a simple, cramp thing, but its secret compartment made a good alcohol storage unit. After having a good swig of whatever liquor he could get his hand on first, Slayer hid it once more and strode out towards the rear hatch to start his ‘investigation’.

“Well... this is one lovely mess we got ourselves into,” Yuri quietly said to himself as he looked over the worsening reports the computer was sending him. Apparently in the crash, the ion cannon had been nearly ripped out of its containment cell for transport and plasma was ‘leaking’ into the atmosphere. If the breach was not sealed in time and a fire happened to reach the leak, the area around the ship would transform from a lifeless sea of sand into a dry, radioactive hunk of green glass.

The only good thing he had found out was that the fields that held the antimatter in place were still doing their job rather well. That would keep the Engines from self-imploding and taking out everything in a sixty-foot radius. He had sent the repair bot he registered in the Cargo Bay to fix the plasma problem, but with no date on when that was going to be done, they were going to have to watch every little bit of heat they made.

“Speaking of life-threatening heat-induced explosions, let’s see what Slayer’s up to...” Yuri muttered as he turned on the tracking chip that he had managed to sneak into Slayer’s suit the day they were taking shore leave on that one planet with the hot chicks. He couldn't remember which one that was.

Meanwhile, as Slayer rounded towards the helm of the downed Ethereal, he stopped. As his hand idly scratched his helm frantically, he growled in annoyance. 'There’s that damn beeping again,' he thought angrily as the noise started. It wasn’t that it was loud, or that it was obnoxious, but the fact that he could never figure out where it’s coming from irritated him to no end.

Trying to distract himself from it, he finished circling the head of the ship. As from what the scans showed, it was indeed a desert by his acute observations. Sand covered the area for miles upon miles. Though, considering the high dunes, Slayer couldn’t figure out if that forest he saw when they came in was visible from his position or not.

The sounds of dulled alarms mixed in the sounds of the Repair Drone R1-B5 as it maneuvered around the exterior of the Ethereal. Contrary to what Drake thought, Slayer had actually kept the husk of the droid and had been repairing it since its fateful destruction. He realized that he finished the repairs a long while ago, but forgot to activate the control cluster and turn it on. He rectified that error before he left the ship.

He glanced at the white, multi-armed robot as it was welding together a crevice in the hull. The sparks it was emitting helped light the darkness around the ship as it was cloaked with the night. After giving a respectful nod towards the machine—for the assassin always had a certain fondness towards things that weren't of minimal intellect—Slayer examined the area in front of him.

It wasn’t much to work with. There were shards of glass, and even some blood, but no Drake. He lowered himself to the spot where he could see the outline of where Drake's body used to lie, and allowed his hunting instincts to surface once more.

From the looks of it, the captain's body wasn’t dragged. Therefore, either something stood over him and picked him up from there, or he was picked up by some anti-gravity emitter. Slayer tapped his helm, and the interface changed accordingly. A green reticule appeared in the center, and began frantically moving about the area.

His Hunter Module was proficient at what it did; being able to pick up subtle tracks and DNA samples of targets through what many would consider impossible means. There were no impressions near the spot, so the former option of up-close retrieval seemed far less likely. Yet, any readings for anti-grav signatures weren’t coming in either.

Slayer let out a calming breath as he observed the surrounding area closer. That’s when he saw it. Two separate pairs of hoof prints. They were weathered due to the desert wind, but they were still recognizable by the Hunter Module even in the night’s glow. Seeing the clue, Slayer quickly moved himself to be adjacent to the marks, and examined them more closely.

It was from an equine. No doubt about that. Though, what kind or what species was hazy. But, this proved something valuable: the slavers (as assumptions would predict) used the four-legged creatures as not only transportation, but to move Drake. However, this didn't lead into how they moved him without using an anti-grav emitter, or without picking him up physically.

'Doesn't matter. I got tracks of their animals and that’s all I need,' Slayer thought as he stood fully. He let his reticule hover over the print, before it was encompassed in a faint purple light. A similar trail of the light led both towards and away from the crash site. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“Yuri, I’ve got a trail. Let’s move,” Slayer muttered as he started to slowly stalk the path, one heavy footstep at a time.





Starbrought





“Fascinating, simply fascinating,” Medical Officer Quick Mend muttered as he stared under the sheet concealing the creature Princess Cadance and Shining Armor had brought back from the meteor crash site. The pale orange light around his horn faded and he allowed the sheet to drop back over the creature. Cracking his neck, Quick Mend turned to face the Princess and the Captain.

“And you’re saying you just ‘found’ this poor beast lying out in the middle of the sand?” He inquired. “Judging by his injuries, he very well couldn’t have walked all of the way out there. He’s covered in his own blood, for pony’s sake!”

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?” Shining Armor interrupted. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

“Captain, I have spent many years of my life learning about and thoroughly studying various branches of medicine. From basic pediatrics to the vastly more complex study of Hydra anatomy,” Quick Mend said, using his magic to slide his glasses further up his face. “I have numerous degrees in several different fields. And this is not my first time examining a creature with which I have no familiarity. What is the main, defining feature of a male across many species?”

A faint blush appeared on Cadance’s cheeks almost right away and she averted her gaze. Shining Armor stared blankly at Quick Mend for nearly half a minute before his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh. Oh!” He stammered. “I… um… I see. Then. Yes. Right.”

Quick Mend rolled his eyes and turned away from the two ponies awkwardly shuffling away from each other.

“Behaving like foals in a Health Studies lecture,” he muttered to himself as he peeked beneath the sheet once more. “I can clean up his wounds and sterilize them so he doesn’t die anytime soon. But we’ll need to get him back to Canterlot as soon as possible.” That seemed to break the awkward tension between the Princess and the Captain as they exchanged a mildly worried look.

“Why back to Canterlot?” Shining Armor requested. “It could be dangerous. Is it a good idea to bring it to our capital?”

“Was it a good idea to bring it to a small, isolated camp of a Princess where most of her guards have never seen actual combat against an unknown enemy?” Quick Mend snapped. This led to more awkward shuffling, mostly from Cadance. She had been the one to insist on bringing the creature to Quick Mend after all. “No, but you did it anyway. Besides, it’s severely wounded and probably can’t fight anyway, even if it is violent. And once we’re in Canterlot, plenty of guards will be able to come running should he wake up and decide to kill us all.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re pleasant to have around?” Shining Armor muttered. Quick Mend merely grunted in response. Shining Armor rolled his eyes and turned to face the Princess, who was staring at the sheet with an expression of pity. “It’s your call, Your Highness. We can bring this guy back to Canterlot with us, or we can leave him here.”

“If we leave him here, he’ll die, regardless of what Quick Mend does to help him,” Cadance said sadly.

“I know,” Shining Armor said, dropping his voice so none of the other guards nearby could hear him. “But he is an alien, Cadance. There’s no other explanation for it. His clothes, the pieces of metal in that trench he was next to, the fact that it probably wasn’t a meteor at all. Even Quick Mend couldn’t identify what he was.” Shining Armor glanced back at the sheet, watching as it slowly rose and fell in time with the creature’s breathing.

“That doesn’t mean we should leave him to die out here,” Cadance said. “All living things have a right to live. We are not gods who decide whether somepony can live or die. We need to give him a chance.”

“Then we’ll bring him back to Canterlot,” Shining Armor gave her a salute. “We’ll just adjust our schedule so we arrive at night when there are fewer ponies out that can ask questions.”

“I agree,” Cadance said as she rose to her hooves. “We’d best get moving then. The sooner we get back, the better the chance that this poor creature will live.”

“You heard the Princess,” Shining Armor barked at the other guards. “Break down camp, and load up the wagon! We need to get back to Canterlot by tomorrow night! Understand?”

“Yes, Sir!”





Starbrought





The desert moon hung in the late-night sky, bathing the sand in a refreshing pearl glow. A man walked across the barren plains, his green and grey attire marred with streaks of black and red where fire and blood covered his once pristine clothes. "Sla-yer~!" he sung, hands cupped around his mouth, eyes dancing in mirthful joy, giddy and rushing with the adrenaline that only came to men who had farted in the face of death. Yuri lost the bounty hunter some time ago, and the fear of being alone was starting to get to him. "Slayer, you lug-nut! I know you're out there! Come out, come out wherever you—ACK!"

Yuri was suddenly pulled backwards behind a large rock that he had not bothered to check in case anything was lying in wait. A armoured hand was clasped over his mouth, and he was staring into the lifeless visor of his shipmate. While the words weren’t completely recognizable, the gist of what Yuri said in a relieved tone through his muffled mouth was: “Well, that was rather successful, if I do say so myself.”

Slayer regarded the tech with a deadpanned stare, still holding him in a vise. His left arm covered Yuri’s mouth (which was known to cause issues, and become quite annoying if not attended to), as his right arm wrapped around Yuri’s left and pinned it to his side. His right hand found itself on the technician’s throat, his thumb blocking off what should have been any attempt at making sound. “Yuri,” he started in a low, deliberate voice. “I'll say this only once; shut up, before you get us killed. You’ve got a comlink.”

After promptly letting him go, Slayer peeked over the rock. They had been following the trail for a while now, yet the trail continued to keep on going for what seemed indefinitely. He still didn’t really understand how the trail was shaped. It seemed constant, which was odd because nomads who still used animals for transportation couldn’t have any source of keeping the beasts going unless they rested. But, there seemed to be no interruptions in the trail. Either the rides didn’t drink water nearly as often as other animals did—the name ‘camel’ abruptly came to Slayer's mind—or they made some ancient device to do such.

He motioned for Yuri to follow him once more, and double-checked to make sure that Yuri’s tracers were still making a detectable trail. About every hundred feet or so, Slayer told Yuri to place a tracer. They actually didn’t do much in their current state, unless you had the right equipment. In the pirate's cases, it was in Slayer's helm. They remained unlit, yet their signatures from just sitting there was enough for Slayer to track. They were well-hidden as well, most taking on a similar camouflage of the sandy plains before them. Once he was satisfied with the definite path back to the Ethereal, Slayer stood and began following the trail once more.

“Slayer, hold up for a second,” Yuri called over the comlink. “I’ve got something really weird on the thermal,” he said, staring at the small screen that showed them the thermal view of the surrounding area. Slayer let out a silent scoff as he turned around and walked back to where Yuri was. The dim glow-stick lights hung limply on the engineer's waist as he examined the small portable terminal he had. Slayer could see clearly in the dark, a result of his training to hunt down his targets in the dead of night; however, Yuri needed something to help his vision.

'Because he’s a blubbering imbecile and slept through that course the Imperials issued to their recruits,' Slayer told himself, mentally rolling his eyes at his rather-incompetent companion. The realization of Slayer's genuine situation was also having its toll on his state of mind. Having a fool like Yuri around was not going to make things better.

“Have you ever seen tracks like this before? The thermal is having a damn-near aneurysm over them,” Yuri whispered, pointing towards the ever-fading trail of worn marks that were a fair distance away.

Slayer briefly glanced at the trail that passed them. “Only in data entries,” he replied as he lowered himself once more to analyze the markings. It was a wide trail. What must have been passing was a caravan, which the scouts that picked up Drake must’ve linked up with after the capture. Some wheel tracks were noticeable, which also reinforced the earlier suspicion of it being a convoy of sorts, and Slayer returned his attention to the tech standing in front of him.

“So..." Slayer was detecting a habit in Yuri's idiotic speech pattern. "Where do we go from here, Slayer?” Yuri had stopped and gazed downwards, looking right at what he guessed where Slayer’s eyes would be pointed behind the mask. ”I mean... we’re nearly out of trackers; from what I can tell, it’s going to be day soon. And I do not want to be stuck in a desert during the middle of the day. So, what now? How are we going to get our dumbass Captain back from something that we have no idea what it is or can do?” 

'If he says the word "so..." one more time, I'm going to break his teeth,' Slayer mused cruelly. The hunter rose to his feet and pondered the question set before him by his dolt of an ally. 'Hmm. Nearly out of tracers. And that’s all we got, from what Yuri could find, to get back..'

Slayer's eyes slowly absorbed the sandy landscape, ensuring there were no snipers nor scouts of any sort monitoring their position. 'If we keep following this trail, and it’s a dead end; we’ll be screwed,' Slayer thought as he began tapping his finger against his hip. 'And that raises another possibility. I know natives aren’t usually the best armed, or the most skilled fighters (never mind intelligent); but take them too lightly and you could easily wind up dead.'

Slayer grunted in irritation at the situation. This was one of the reasons why he didn't just assume direct control over the Cerberus Pirates and declared himself Captain. He may have had a knack for thinking things fairly through, and solving issues with a bit of rational thought, but with nothing to go on (which seemed to be the usual functioning of Cerberus' overall competence in strategy)...

The assassin didn't like this particular flavor of pressure. A fire-fight or the shadows stalking a target was his domain; not sulking about a desert tracking a potential dead-end of someone he hardly trusts even after some odd years. Slayer's tapping became slightly more frantic, turning from quarters notes to eighth notes. Finally, Slayer simply turned towards the trail leading off into the unknown and started walking without another word.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Yuri exclaimed, breaking the ‘no shouting’ rule. Slayer made no retort as he continued to follow the trail. He grew farther and farther away as Yuri just stood there, confused and starting to feel peckish. “Slayer! If this is goodbye, then I’d better tell you that the picture was a lie! It never existed at all! It was just a plan Drake and I hatched to get you knocked out so we could sell your armor for scrap—”

Slayer calmly cut in without missing a beat. This wasn't the first time Yuri had gone off the deep end, and began trying to cope with situations the only way he knew how; stupidity. Slayer decided that maybe feeding the fire would shut him up, or at least he could undermine what little brainpower the engineer had. 

Did Slayer ever mention how much he extremely disliked Yuri? Because he did. A lot.

“I knew of the plan. You left the intercom on when you talked to Drake about it in the cockpit. Meanwhile, I still have the picture of you pissing on civilians from a rooftop a year back.” His voice took on a smug tone as he kept walking with no intents on waiting for his crewmate to follow. “The best part of that piece of blackmail I have on you is that you were so intoxicated you can’t even remember it.”

Yuri frowned in irritation. Did he really, or was Slayer lying to him? He could never tell. “Oh... So it's the blackmail game you want to play, eh?!" With aggression, he took a step forward. "I have the name of the person that helped you with that little ‘problem’ of yours, and I’m sure everyone—alien or not—would love to hear that story. Right, Slayer? Or should I say—”

Once again, Slayer stopped him. Though, by now, he paused his trek as he reached the fifty-foot mark of distance between the two. Obviously, Yuri refused to set aside these petty jabs of blackmail. The assassin felt as if he was dealing with a child. A large, mentally-incompetent man-child. “I created that false identity. The ‘problem’ was that I needed some tools to help eliminate a contact.” He briefly glanced at the tech in exhaustion, and even dragged his hand over his visor again to accent his frustration. “You took my vague hint as something absurd. So guess my ‘surprise’ when I got a call two days later saying that your technological signature had hacked into that account.”

Slayer idly gazed at his fingernails as he continued in a rather-monotone voice, despite him wearing gloves as he continued. “Since I assumed such an event would occur, the amount I placed in there to hire some goons to distract the fool was transferred to my personal account in advance.” Slayer noted this unusual break in his usual stoic silence, and simply ended the conversation at that, hoping that Yuri would stop as well. 'Check, and mate. Now please; shut up and let us get a move on—'

“Did you really think that they could actually trace my signature?” A mocking laugh escaped Yuri’s throat. Slayer wanted to throttle him. Slayer mused to himself as he attempted not to wring the fool's neck that being stranded appeared to have a more prominent effect on the engineer's psyche than originally anticipated. “No, that was a old friend of mine that owed me a debt. I made him hack it with a fake signature to throw you off, and also to provide a distraction for what I really got.”

Slayer’s mind already made a rebuttal, but he chose not to say it aloud. This transaction was worthless. They needed to find Drake, and Yuri acting like a bigger idiot than normal was most certainly not helping. 'Does he really have the gall to think he can outsmart me? I know his sig by heart, and it was the same one that breached the account. What a sad little fool.' An irritated snort left the hitman. 'I wish I had Drake instead.'

Yuri’s tone took on a darker form while the ex-bounty hunter mused, oblivious to the misery afflicting the assassin. “I have something I know that you would love to know. More than anything in the world. You know what I am talking about, don’tcha Mr. Slayer?”

The assassin merely cocked his head in confusion. “Um... not really.” 'What is he going on about...?' he paused to see the ever-descending moon. He grunted and went back to following the trail. “How about you walk and talk?” 'Before you waste more time with your childish arguments about the subject of blackmail,' he added as an afterthought.

“That sounds like much more fun, Mr. Slayer,” Yuri responded as he jogged to catch up. Slayer's eye twitched for every loud stomp that Yuri performed to close the distance. “Besides, I’d rather keep that information in my head for a little bit longer; it’d be a shame if someone got it before they were ready for it. I would hate to have to remove it.”

The armoured gladiator merely rolled his eyes in response. 'Truly, I don’t understand why I have to deal with this.' He inwardly groaned in his head as he continued to follow the path. 'Why couldn’t this have been where Drake and I had to find Yuri? At least I can tolerate Drake. Yuri... the best description for him is an arrogant and irritating younger brother. But stupider.' A hopeful expression appeared on the marauder's face. 'Maybe I can kill Yuri, and blame it on desert lizards?'

Slayer, in his lamenting, idly checked his power level. He snorted, though it appeared to go unnoticed by the mechanic beside him. 'Perhaps I should’ve done some upgrading before I left. Adding those new cells would’ve reduced the Hunter’s Module energy intake some,' he thought as silence once again reigned betwixt the two.

And silence continued to fall for quite some time until, of course, Yuri got bored. He slowed his movement down from a brisk walk to a normal pace, falling behind. He was bored to death, and Yuri figured this was probably going to be the only time that Slayer would even think about humoring him instead of ignoring him. “Slayer, I’ve been meaning to ask you this... but, what was it like to work for the Syndicate?”

The warrior gazed back at Yuri with a tilted head as he walked. Suspicion was slowly rising as Slayer squinted at the tech. It wasn't all that long ago that Yuri was acting like a sociopath; now all of the sudden he wanted life stories from the bounty hunter? “Why do you care?”

“We are in the middle of the desert for who-knows-how much longer, so I would like to hear what it was like to work for the Syndicate,” Yuri retorted.

In response, Slayer scoffed and turned back forward. 'Sure, why not? Hopefully it’ll shut him up,' he prayed as he recalled his time with the Syndicate. “It was... bland. The pay was above-average, and the targets were challenging, but besides that I wouldn’t have taken the job. The thugs there in the organization were not only morons, they were also stupid.” A brief void of conversation filled the air as he tried to gather his thoughts further.

“I didn’t say much to Parkins, if that's what you're asking. Only met the bastard twice. As such, I dealt with the more... simple, of his agents. There weren’t too many assigned breaks in between contracts, which led into me taking my own. I was the best they could find though, so they allowed my occasional brush-off of their orders.” Slayer had kept his eyes on the trail, but quickly flicked his eyes in Yuri’s direction. The returning expression was neutral. “Does that answer your question?”

“Pretty much, though I still would say that I would rather be on your side than the one I got myself into...” His eyes began to get distant as Yuri recalled his past. That he believed at one time he thought would be the best decision he had ever made. But, it had turned out to scar him in more places than just his arm...

Slayer nodded solemnly. “During some contracts, I heard dying stories about the Imperials, from Imperials. About how they worked...” There was another brief silence before Slayer continued. “Syndicate had some fools, but compared to others, they treated their guys right... sometimes.” Slayer finished lamely with an awkward shrug, before he began trudging up the hilly dune the trail went over.

“You got that right, Slayer,” Yuri laughed a little bit as he followed, before his eyes got that far off look again. He reached the crest along with Slayer to see yet more endless seas of sand. In the direction of where they fell, were barely-recognizable pieces of tech. But, Yuri merely looked towards the horizon of the rising sun in the opposite direction. As if he was staring into the past itself.

“You sure do...”
> {Edited} Chapter Three - Separation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





Silence. It’s a priceless need when hunting prey. Even when you’re in a situation to where nothing wrong could happen in terms of loud sounds, it’s crucial to keep quiet during examination, pursuing, and any other methods of dealing with targets. The spreading of sand underfoot, despite it being nearly impossible to hear without sensors,  must be done carefully, less a raider lying in wait hears your approach.

Therefore, perhaps one could understand the agitation that Slayer was feeling as he tracked. Yuri was walking behind him, and quite frankly he seemed to care little for stealth. Slayer had attempted to reason with him, but the tech had ignored him. Almost like he was in an odd sort of trance. Not even Slayer’s tried-and-true method of slapping Yuri across the face seemed to faze the engineer, and that both worried and annoyed the hunter.

The rising temperature on the desert was barely noticeable due to the still early point in the morning. But one could still feel it rising, its grip closing tighter on its inhabitants. Despite the Solaris Suit's need for it, Slayer wasn’t enjoying the sun’s threat of sweltering heat and blinding sunlight too much. 'That cell would have increased my recharge rate by a solid nine percent if I took the ten minutes to install it,' he griped to himself.

In an instant, Slayer immediately desisted his movement and held out a hand. It was positioned for Yuri’s chest, which it luckily hit. The reason for said luck, was that the trail descended down a steep dune, and the rate that Yuri would’ve fell could have possibly jeopardized the reconnaissance-slash-rescue mission.

Yuri’s eyes widened in confusion as he froze, which was a welcome facial expression from the flat look he gave as he walked on aimlessly. He turned to look at Slayer, who only responded with a casual point downwards with his free hand. Looking in said direction and realizing the potential fall, Yuri backed up swiftly to give a few feet of room from the very-likely deathtrap.

“The trail fades by each passing gust,” Slayer muttered as he watched the idle wind brush past the path. It faded ever-so-slightly, and soon the only link to find their captain could be lost if they didn’t hurry. “And more will pass in the time it’ll take to navigate down...”

Yuri glanced over at the pondering positioning of Slayer’s hands, and spoke. “So... do you think Drake is still alive, Slayer?” he asked the metal man, his voice laced with some concern. The assassin had cooled his jets some once daybreak as arrived, and as such he didn't lash out at Yuri.

“Hopefully. I’d prefer an extra gun that wouldn’t try to kill us on a possibly-hostile world,” Slayer responded as he began walking down the near sideways slope. Yuri hurried along after him and followed in his wake.

“How do you know whatever has Drake doesn’t or does have guns? Hell, it could just be a wild animal.”

Slayer slowed his walk to look back incredulously at his mate. “Wild animals don’t make these tracks. Would be more spread-out if there were several, and there’s too many prints for a singular beast.” He idly pulled out his rightmost Sabre and brushed his hand over it to clear the accumulated dust as he continued. “No, whatever has Drake is organized. As for whether they have guns or not, that remains to be seen.”

Yuri looked down at the degrading tracks, and sighed. They were not alone in this desert, and it was rapidly heating up as the sun began to ascend, adding beautiful colors of orange and red to the sky. He looked back behind them, and his jaw dropped. “Slayer... just how far have we gone?”

The ex-bounty hunter halted and glanced at the sun. It had peaked the horizon not more than an hour or so ago, and they had been walking for a significant time-frame. Making a few calculations regarding average speed of planetary rotation (which seemed to go at the Galactic Standard), and distance (estimated by the positioning of the sun compared to the starting point of the moon), he began walking once more. “About four-five hours. Maybe, fifteen miles or so?" A thoughtful sound left Slayer. "This is going to take a while...”

“Well, look on the bright side! We get to spend it together." Slayer was trying to find the positives of that prospect, but unfortunately came up with none. In fact, he thought he felt a chill creep up his spine, despite it being more-than-slightly-warm out. "...Though, did it ever occur to you that we are leaving our own tracks for others to follow?” Yuri asked.

“Correction. Your tracks,” Slayer commented as he returned to his previous brisk pace. “I’ve been moving lightly (despite my heavier armour), and have been walking in the tracks themselves. You however, have chosen to travel next to them, while at the same time leaving heavy indents." Slayer crossed his arms in a stretching motion as he pressed on. "If the ship is compromised, it’s your doing.”

“Now wait one minute. It’s not my fault that Drake crashed us here, and it’s sure as hell ain’t my fault that the reactor was having a fucking temper-tantrum!” Yuri yelled in Slayer’s face mask, hurrying around the hunter to stop him. ”And as for the tracks, not all of us have three-million credit space-suits that wipe our asses.”

All that built-up urge since dawn to not smash Yuri's nose was quickly dispatched with the engineer's tirade. After a harsh moment of silence passed, the assassin’s voice came out over the comlink.  “How quaint,” he replied with a dangerously even tone. “Your stupidity is shown clearly in your mathematics, for the suit cost seven-million credits; not three.”

Yuri frowned. “Don’t insult—”

“Speaking of your lack of intelligence,” Slayer started again while at the same time interrupting his crew member, “how about I point out that you should know these basics and that it doesn’t require gear of any kind?” Slayer countered calmly as he shoved his mask against Yuri’s face even further. To the fool's credit, he only leaned back a centimeter. “So don’t give me excuses because you and your ex-Imperial acquaintances couldn’t figure out common sense.”

“So, I’m the one that does not have common sense?" Slayer rolled his eyes behind his visor; he knew exactly where this was going to go. Yuri couldn't go one day without bringing up past events in his whining fits. "This is coming from the person that got so drunk off his ass, that he stumbled into a tree and tried to bang it. This is coming from the person who has never let us see his face for no fucking reason (the real one is that you’re so fucking ugly, a palm tree is about the best you can get out of anything).  This is also coming from the person that failed three times trying to kill a Vice-Admiral, then gave up and demo’d the building.”

"If common sense is a measure of intelligence, then I'm an idiot, but you're the bigger one."

A disturbing silence fell then. It maybe lasted for a few moments, or perhaps minutes. But as Yuri’s final words left his lips, only silence remained. Only the lightest of whispers being the gusts of wind were the few breaks in the pause. Slayer was currently reviewing the likelihood of him being able to repair the Ethereal himself without the aid of the engineer. A silent tsk under his breath made him discard the thought of murder. Wriggling his fingers to keep the blood flowing to the extremities, Slayer spoke in his same calm tone, marred only by a hint of smugness. “None of those relate to common sense, you know. The first was due to inebriation, the second is none of your damn business, and the third was an alternate source of completing a goal. You still have trouble figuring out which shoe goes on which foot.”

“The point still stands,” Yuri grumbled with defiance, pouting petulantly as if he was a child. “If you say I don’t have common sense, why should I care about what you say about me? And also, the reason you went after that admiral is that you failed killing me (which now that I look at it would have been better in the long run), but what has been done has been done.”

The warrior merely shook his head in exasperation. “Must you always do this? Try to get under my skin, yet fail every time?” Slayer turned on his heels and began his slowed-gait through the trail again. His worn patience made him forget he should be rushing. “Save your breath. And try to keep hydrated. Heat sickness will make you lose even more brain cells than you already have.”

“Oi, what me and my brain cells do is none of your concern. But are we going to catch the ‘kidnappers’ anytime soon?”

A dismissive wave was sent into Yuri’s direction. In his mind, Slayer wondered if Yuri was suffering from bipolar disorder. Maybe that was what those pills he had found on Yuri's cot were for. It made a lot of sense; Yuri was a bumbling idiot, so the only logical way to make him even stupider was him being a druggie. At the time, it made a great deal of sense. “We’ll handle them with extreme prejudice when the trail ends. It hasn’t yet, so stay sharp until we do.”

“Did you bring any food with us, by the way?” Yuri asked as he began to catch up with Slayer taking point, as usual.

“I thought I told you to bring it in your pack...” Slayer trailed off as he slowed down to a complete stop several feet away, and turned back slowly. “You, did do that, right?”

Yuri put down his pack and began rummaging through it. Slayer went in reverse and tried depicting the items. Yuri pulled out medical braces, spare energy packs, and even water. But nothing remotely edible appeared in his hands as he dug more frantically and deeper into the sack. Dejectedly, Yuri ceased and sat there on his knees. “Oh hell no...”

There was silence. Yuri winced and dared to look towards Slayer. He was surprised to see that he was merely standing there. The stance in which he stood in held no anger, nor disappointment... actually, his stance didn’t have an emotion. He just seemed to be stan—

Thwack!

…

Thud.

As the minor dust cloud cleared from under Yuri’s unconscious body, Slayer stood above him flexing his recently-used fist. He let out an annoyed sigh, and placed the bag back on his companion while he slept in blissful sleep. Hoisting the technician onto his shoulder, he grumbled a short statement before walking onward.

“Nighty-night, imbecile. Consider this a favour, because I’m only dragging your ass a couple of miles. Then I’m waking you up.” And with that, an odd sense of peace reigned between the pair once more.





Starbrought





Princess Cadance watched anxiously from the hallway outside of Canterlot Castle’s private Operating Room. Inside, Quick Mend and three nurses (all of whom Quick Mend had hoof-picked, swearing that they could be trusted to keep quiet about the creature) were hard at work stitching up the being’s numerous wounds.

As they worked, Quick Mend commented on the creature’s anatomy and an enchanted quill copied what he wrote down word for word, even sketching some of the creature’s body parts to accompany the writing. Most of Quick Mend’s comments, however, seemed to be focused on the similar characteristics the creature shared with numerous races on Equis.

“The brain is rather large compared to body size, much like that of most known sentient races,” Quick Mend spouted off as his magic washed over the creature, scanning its body primarily for broken limbs. “Initial scans show the creature has a well developed neocortex, prefrontal cortex and temporal lobes. I would assume that this means he is capable of many things including language, reasoning, culture, etcetera. We may be able to find common ground on which we can establish communication with when he wakes up.”

Upon their return to Canterlot, Cadance and her guard had quickly rushed the creature to the Operating Room while sealing up that wing of the castle, expressly forbidding any unauthorized entry. Shining Armor had volunteered to guard the main entrance to the medical wing, insisting that his Shielding Spell would prevent anypony from sneaking past, forcing those who wanted through to confront the guard.

“Much of the upper body seems to be similar to that of a Minotaur, though much more proportionate for its size,” Quick Mend rambled on as one of the nurses worked on cleaning a gash on the creature’s chest. “Especially in regards to its head. It doesn’t possess a snout like most sentient races do, so he should have a much shorter palate as a result.” The creature’s mouth was forced open by Quick Mend’s magic as the unicorn peered inside. “I count thirty two teeth in its mouth. One appears to be made of metal, or it possesses a metallic coating. I doubt that it’s a natural occurrence. I would consider this proof that his species is intelligent.” Quick Mend paused for a moment as he considered his own words.  “Excluding the fact that he was wearing clothing and had a sword on him.”

Quick Mend tilted the creatures head back gently and continued to peer into its mouth while his magic automatically worked on stitching up one of the wounds on its chest. “Teeth in the front are designed for tearing and teeth in the back are designed for grinding,” he noted. “So he’s omnivorous, much like the Griffon’s and the Minotaur. Good, that means he should be fine on just fruits and vegetables when he wakes up since we have no meat readily available in the castle…”

He trailed on about the possibilities of the creature’s diet and Cadance subconsciously tuned him out, turning her attention instead to the window behind her. Two unicorns dressed in Hazard Defense Suits could be seen tenderly examining the objects that had been on the creature. They gave Cadance a brief nod of acknowledgement as they tenderly placed a small cluster of metallic discs into a lead-lined case to protect against potential ‘alien’ abnormalities.

While several of the creature’s possessions interested Cadance and the others, the sword was the most curious out of all. During the ride back to Canterlot, Shining Armor had unsheathed the weapon to get a better look at the craftsponyship of the blade in an attempt to figure out the general region where the creature might have come from. However, there was no blade, only an indentation in the guard of the hilt where several carefully shaped crystals had been secured.

The sword hilt remained in the scabbard, both lying on an operating table, waiting to be placed into a case (assuming the guards sent to fetch one could find one long enough without being larger than necessary). Cadance stared at the partial weapon, and then back at the creature as Quick Mend continued to cast scanning spells on the creature’s head. What kind of creature carried a sword with no blade? Was he a warrior? Or was it only for decoration?

“Hello, what do we have here?” Quick Mend said suddenly, snapping Cadance out of her trance of guess making.

“What is it, doctor?” She asked, striding up to the glass and staring at the creature. His wounds were now stitched up and the nurses were working on cleaning the excess blood off of its body. “Is everything alright?”

“More than alright,” Mend said eagerly. “I did a more thorough scan of his brain this time round. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any damage that I could identify. Can’t be too careful, can we?” Cadance responded with a look to urge him to get to his point. “Right, as I was saying, I found something rather interesting in the left hemisphere of his brain.” His horn lit up and he projected the image of a small, cube shaped object with eighteen prongs extending from it.

“What is that?” The princess asked, peering at the projection. “A box?”

“Something else,” Quick Mend said eagerly. “This thing was surgically implanted into his brain.” 

Cadance reared back, horrified. “This speaks volumes about his culture’s medical advances! If they can place something so perfectly within a brain, imagine what else they can do!”

"I know! Isn't it exciting?!" Quick Mend stated in a joyful tone.

“But wouldn’t that hurt?” Cadance asked, still with a horrified expression on her face as she stared at the creature. “Having that thing in his brain can’t be pleasant.”

Quick Mend let out a foalish giggle, which was rather disturbing coming from a fully grown stallion. “That’s the best part! The object is smaller than the size of a needle point! I doubt he can even feel it.” Cadance felt her jaw go slack. She looked up at the projection Quick Mend was casting. Several lines covered the object, all faintly glowing from what was clearly an internal light, and not the result of Quick Mend’s spell judging by how the light faded in and out at consistent intervals.

“Then what good is it?” She asked. “Something that small can’t possibly have any real purpose. And I doubt it’s for cosmetic reasons.”

“Well, whatever it is, it must have been worth it,” Quick Mend said as he dispelled his projection and went to the nearby sink to sanitize his hooves. “He’s had three others placed in various locations of his brain.”

Cadance felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her. There were four of those things in the creature’s brain? Who would let that happen to them?

“And, judging by the scars hidden by his mane, he’s had them for quite some time,” Quick Mend rambled on as he held the door open for his nurses, who had finished cleaning up the creature and themselves before exiting the operating room. Quick Mend was the last to leave, locking the door behind him as he did so.

“Remember, none of you saw anything out of the ordinary today,” the doctor reminded the nurses. The three mares nodded and went their separate ways, carefully avoiding the pegasi guards who had arrived to hang up a thick curtain over the window to keep other ponies who weren’t in the know from finding out about ‘Princess Cadance’s guest’. 

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, I need to take a shower and organize my notes before I head off to sleep,” Quick Mend said, giving Cadance a small bow. “I’ll examine the creature again tomorrow and see if I can learn anything more about it.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Cadance said with a warm smile. “You’re a tremendous help. If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“A paid week-trip to Van Hoofer would be nice,” Quick Mend said with a laugh as he took his leave. “Have a good night, Princess.”

“You too, Quick Mend,” Cadance said with a chuckle as the stallion disappeared around a corner.





Starbrought





The monotonous and repetitive sound of sand parting underfoot for Slayer’s steps gradually heightened his ire. After trying to rouse his idiot of a companion, and getting little success, he was forced to continue carrying him. And from his perspective, Yuri could definitely afford to lose some pounds.

'How much vodka would it take to get someone to weigh like this?' Slayer wondered as he walked. The sun was nearing midday (it surprised Slayer how long they had been walking, and how long Yuri had been knocked out; maybe he swung too hard?), and as minor revenge Slayer was moving his crewmate in a reversed shoulder press. This relieved stress by placing the burden on both shoulders, and would guarantee Yuri would get a sunburn on his face if he didn’t wake up soon. 'That’ll teach the bugger.'

It hadn’t been too long of a walk yet, but Slayer truly could care less as of that moment. He was solemn at this time, being left to his thoughts as he repeated the same motions to follow the trail after his less-stupid acquaintance. Things weren’t all fine and dandy (obviously), so it made sense that his thoughts would be revolving on how to gain passage off this rock.

'If what we’re after is sentient, and snatched up Drake... we’re already at a disadvantage there,' Slayer lamented. He might have sounded like a broken record, but he didn't exactly liked being stranded on a foreign world. 'Especially if they’re the only ones. I have little doubt that this will be a tedious endeavour, but if none do it, I’ll have to.'

His eyes furrowed as he thought further. 'Why is it that I constantly feel like nobody is intelligent enough to do something without screwing it up, forcing me to do it instead?' Slayer’s face then went flat. 'Oh yeah. Because they do lack intellect and sense, and I don’t.'

A small moan emanated from Yuri, but Slayer paid little mind to it as he maneuvered up the dune that was in his path. Clutched in one of his hands was an old-fashioned canteen he extracted from the technician’s pack; a canteen in which he had been idly sipping on as the journey took him. Opening his mouth seal and taking another swig, he reached the crest and snorted to discover that it seemed even more sand stood in his way. The path remained, but it was obvious it would soon fade into nothing within the hour. He wished to hurry up, but he couldn’t do that with Yuri in his company, conscious or not.

That’s when a cruel thought came to mind. Slayer glanced slowly to Yuri’s form, and a devilish grin began setting in. 'Hmm...'

Working quickly, he placed Yuri down and removed his pack. Going through it, he found some items and essentials he was looking for. A smaller satchel, water, other excess supplies... Removing the dwarf carrier and filling it with respective goods, he set it by the tech’s side as he equipped the pack.

He was about ready to leave, to begin jogging and hopefully clear the desert sometime before nightfall, when his subconscious began kicking in. 'Really, Slayer? You’re going to abandon one of your crewmates in the desert while they're unconscious, and with only the scraps you don't wish to take. That is utterly unhonourable.' Slayer sighed, knowing his mind was speaking truth.

…

After stopping briefly, Slayer went down the hill whistling, leaving his companion to lie on the dune. But, an old-fashioned umbrella sat embedded near his neck to provide the sleeping form of Yuri with some degree of shade. Some, mind you. Slayer still wanted Yuri to suffer a little bit before he died. 'I’ll try and find your body, if it isn’t picked clean by buzzards once I get Drake...' the hitman trailed off as the sun scorched on overhead.





Starbrought





“Urgh... So... Hot,” Yuri mumbled as he began to leave the realm of unconsciousness. It was blazing hot from what he could feel, being as groggy as he was. His skin felt as if It had been turned into leather that was made solely through animal hides, like what his great grand-parents had.

Upon attempting to open his eyes, however, something told him in his guts that doing so would be a very bad idea. So, he just laid wherever he was laying, feeling like he was being roasted alive. The lack of movement or sound near him also sent him into high-alert, as he tried collecting himself. He moved his arm up, and felt something slide off.

“What the fuck...” he harshly iterated, his words barely above a whisper. His mouth felt dry as a bone, and as he ran his tongue over his lips, he could feel them cracked and baked. He moved his other arm, feeling the same sensation as something slid off it. 

He cracked his eyes open a little bit, but quickly shut them when he was nearly blinded by a bright light. He moved his arm over his eyes and opened them again, hoping that he could see. His eyes cracked open, and he saw what looked like a giant peach-coloured tarp covering his body, but slanted so that light poured on his face. He opened them even more slowly to let them get used to the light. Finally, he could see. His eyes diverted down to the ground, revealing sand. He sat up slowly, being careful not to hurt himself. The last thing Yuri wanted at the moment was for his dried, cracked skin to meet and impact with hot sand. 

“Why the fuck am I...?” He trailed off as he looked about, and his surroundings lacked a red figure. He understood immediately what had happened, and an intense frothing rage bubbled forth. “SLAYER!” Yuri screamed as loud as he could, but with his dry mouth it was about the same level as someone shouting gently. An echo sounded off regardless as the name left his lips. He began to hack, spitting out a few grains of sand that had gotten into his mouth.

“Water... come to me.” With slugging speed, he located his backpack buried under a growing blanket of sand. He snatched it up before it could go on a tumbleweed ride down the massive dune he had woken up on. Yuri, feeling the scathing heat ingrained into his very being, opened the pack up and dug around, trying to find water to quench his aching mouth and throat.

“Did he... that son of a b—” Yuri began to hack again, as even more sand flew out of his mouth. He got on his hands and knees, hacking his lungs to oblivion. The pain of his lungs was soon overwhelmed by rage at the discovery in his pack. Slayer had taken nearly all of his water and either combined it with his own, or chugged it; leaving Yuri with an average amount in his mini-canteen—out of the five brought, only one sat in the satchel—and no sign of getting anymore anytime soon in endless stretching land of sand.

“That’s it, I’m going to kill him...” Yuri looked around at the rolling waves of sand stretching for miles and miles, going in every direction. No signs of a retreating body. ”But first, I’ve got to find that soon-to-be mummy.” Yuri picked up his backpack with a grunt and with one scrutinizing glance to spot the direction of the near-nonexistent trail, he began to walk into the great unknown. Like he had done many times before.

And this time, he hoped it did not end with bloodshed, and the horrors of war. Like it had so many times before. 





Starbrought





“Cousin Cadance, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve returned.”

Cadance closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She’d recognize that drawling, arrogant tone anywhere. Aunt Celestia, give me strength. She turned around, forcing a stiff smile on her face as Blueblood approached her.

“Blueblood!” She said in feigned cheerfulness. “It’s good to see you.”

“But of course it is,” Blueblood scoffed. “I am the great Prince Blueblood, after all.”

A great pain in the flank is more like it. Cadance said to herself as she fought back the urge to roll her eyes. Deep breaths, Cadance. In. Out. In. Out. That a girl.

“How was your trip to Zebraria?” The prince asked in a tone that told Cadance that he really didn’t care for her answer.

“It was perfectly fine,” Cadance replied quickly, wanting to keep her interaction time with Blueblood to an absolute minimum. “Saddle Arabia is such a beautiful city, and the zebras there are always so friendly.”

“Yes, yes. That’s nice,” Blueblood said, waving his hoof in the air as if to shoo away the conversation. “Though it doesn’t explain why you’ve returned a day and a half earlier than scheduled.”

Cadance froze in place for a fraction of a second. She didn’t want Blueblood to know she had brought some strange, unidentifiable creature back to the castle. He could barely tolerate other races of ponies, let alone those of lower social standing. He would probably have the creature shipped to the Everfree forest and tossed inside.

Fortunately, she had always been quick on her hooves. “Well, I’ve gone a few days without a decent bath,” she said casually, waving her hoof in a manner to mimic Blueblood. The prince scowled at her with a severe lack of amusement. “So I just simply had to rush back.”

Blueblood let out a derisive snort. “Oh ha, ha, ha,” he said sarcastically. “I imagine you are under the impression that you’re being funny.”

“Well I’m trying,” Cadance giggled, further irritating Blueblood, “But it is rather hard with you being a stick in the mud.” Cadance took a small pleasure in watching the stuck-up unicorn visibly shudder in horror.

“That is a horrid analogy,” Blueblood said in disgust. “Why would anypony ever want to cover themselves in wet dirt?”

“It actually helps exfoliate the skin, you know,” Cadance said. “I personally enjoy them.” She let out another laugh at his expense and brushed past him. “Goodnight, cousin.”

“Don’t forget that I’m still in charge tomorrow,” Blueblood called after her. Cadance just rolled her eyes. 

Honestly, why Aunt Celestia would leave him in charge, even for a couple of days, is completely beyond me.





Starbrought





A heavy groan echoed across the desert as the word ‘Slayer’ screamed out over the terrain. Slayer realized that tone to be Yuri’s usual for trying to enact revenge, and he barely had half a mile over him. He proceeded to trudge at a faster speed than he had been previously, now proceeding at a faster yet still maneuverable jog.

'Man, why couldn’t my punch just keep Yuri down for a little longer? At least long enough to where I could fully ditch him and let the desert claim him,' Slayer thought as he tried to level his steps with the hoofprints. 'If he catches up, we’ll never find Drake. And that means I’ll be stuck on this forsaken planet with that idiot forever.'

As he followed his course, the hunter noticed the distinct lack of life with some trepidation. No form of plantae, or creatures of any sort. It was rather disturbing, because most deserts have some measure of activity. Being in one that currently didn’t, did not bode well with his increasingly-frayed nerves.

Idly switching off his Module, he peered at the path he took. Slayer was certainly surprised to discover that the trail had almost entirely evaporated, with the only evidence being small alterations to the landscape in the form of a disheveled strip. His brows raised at this, and reactivated his visor so he could stay en route.

'This is ridiculous,' he complained to himself. 'I have to hunt down someone I barely tolerate on an unknown world in the middle of a barren wasteland, with nothing but some meager supplies and a fool who provided basically nothing in the ‘Help Department.''

The wind whirled at an increased pace as Slayer went. His eyes furrowed, and he carefully examined his horizons for what he feared. Unfortunately, his fear was confirmed as a swirling vortex of sand was approaching him. “Fuck,” was all that left his lips as he tried to look to his surroundings to avoid the oncoming (but not literal) shitstorm.

To be honest, he was pretty much spent. That ‘dust devil’ looked vicious enough to lift him, and since the sand wasn’t solid he couldn’t simply dig into it to prevent his vertical change. And of course, he had hit a mini-valley of sorts, meaning he had very little time and terrain to work with. Slayer considered to simply start digging when he saw a small stony hole in the knoll of a nearby sand dune.

'Thank you, Lady Luck,' he thought with a snark as he scrambled inside and peeked out to see the sand whipping about into his shelter. Pulling back and wiping away the dust, Slayer tapped his helm and shoulder. Two identical flashlights flickered on, and allowed him to view the interior beyond the sunlight’s reach.

From the artificial beams, he could just barely see what he believed was the back of the cave. The walls appeared to have been natural, yet odd chips and scratches made him wary of whether those were the results of violent winds, or the possibility of other tenants.

Yet nothing lunged at him. Slayer gave another thankful sigh of relief as he slid down the side of the mouth and ended with him sitting in a lazy position. As the quiet atmosphere (save the howling of the wind) settled in, he removed his pack and began rummaging through it.

'Hmm,' the bounty hunter pondered as he went through the container. 'I only have two canteens, since I left the other three in Yuri’s satchel. I wasn't going to, but I felt a little bad. Hope he checked the side-pocket,' he snickered to himself. 'But knowing him, he probably didn’t.'

Besides the canisters for the water, he had some cable he intended to use if he came across some form of a rocky cliff he could descend, a Mark III Proto-Flash grenade to catch any group of individuals off-guard, two medical braces in case he somehow broke bones through his armour, and finally; a small little bag that he decided to nab despite it being completely empty. Why the last one? He didn’t know, but more shit in his pack meant he had a better chance of getting Drake back into his custody.

Uncorking the canteen he had been working on, he took idle sips of the lukewarm water. Tasted awful, but he preferred it over dehydration. He flicked off his shoulder light, and allowed his legs some rest. Thoughts began to float about as he waited the storm out.

'Maybe I should’ve brought Yuri anyway. Wouldn’t be so boring then in this cave,' he pondered while sighing. Slayer rested his helm against the wall, and stared at the cracked ceiling above him. 'If only I didn’t get into this shit...' The billowing of the wind gradually died down, but Slayer barely noticed as he readjusted himself to be in a napping position. The pack was made into a pillow of sorts, and now he briefly closed his eyes to get some form of usefulness out of being trapped.

...

Almost an hour later, and Slayer was still resting his laurels in blissful, desperate napping. The assassin was not infallible, and as such he was ensnared in the world of dreams. Particularly, a rather provocative one that if it were to be revealed to the general public, he would undoubtedly go on a murderous rampage in the nearest quadrant. But, like all good things; it had to end.

Slayer chuckled as he wiggled some in his spot. “Not bad...” he murmured unconsciously. A few idle seconds passed before he let out a low growl. “Oh, this is going to be—” He was cut off and simultaneously awoken by the Solaris Suit’s alarm-system going off. The assassin jumped up from his dream, katana and Sabre in hand as his head whipped about frantically.

Upon realization of the disturbance, he let out an unamused grunt and telepathically shut it off. “Right when things get good,” Slayer growled as he noticed the torrent of sand had ceased. 'Ah, good timing I suppose...'

Acquiring his pack and departing the cave, he reactivated his Module and began scanni—

…

“Oh for the love of...” Slayer sighed. The trail was officially nonexistent. Gone. Vanished. Deceased. The sand had removed all trace of the captors, leaving him without a lead nor a clue on where to go to recover Drake. Understandably, he didn't take too kindly to this revelation. “Great. Just fucking great!” His voice increased as he stomped around the mouth of the cave. “Try to hyperspace jump to Earth, and look where it gets me: stranded on a backwater world with my crew-members either captured or incompetent. Why must this happen to me? Why can't, for just once, things work out instead of Fate and Lady Luck taking turns dealing bad cards?!”

Snorting in anger and frustration from the cumulative amount of bottling up emotions due to all these stress-inducing events, he promptly drew both of his Sabres and went ballistic on the rocky exterior. Shot after shot rang out as chunks flew off from the energy bolts colliding against it.

However, this didn’t prove to be entirely wise. The sound cloaked others, and as the batteries for the Sabres had to recharge from a rapid expenditure of power, several loud growls brought Slayer’s focus off of his rage. The darkened abyss that was formerly the hideout acted as a veil for whatever was emitting the irritated sounds.

'There was something alive in there? How did I miss something when it was completely empty?!' Slayer thought frantically as he holstered his pistols and drew his Katana while examining his energy. It was low. Very low. Hardly enough to keep life-support and the weight-distributors online. If it wasn't for the sun overhead, Slayer would be completely screwed. Instead, he was just mostly screwed.

“Dammit all to hell,” was all he mumbled as the grey-colored beasts emerged from their domain.





Starbrought





"The subject in question is truly an intriguing specimen. I’ve only been able to properly study it for a couple of hours since we returned to Canterlot Castle.

So far, I’ve determined that traditional Minotaur Sage Healing techniques may be the most effective methods of treatment for the creature’s wounds, as casting healing magic seems to be a hit-or-miss in terms of improvement of the subject's health. The similarities between the two races is also astounding. Not only that, but the subject displays similar traits to that of the Diamond Dogs of the Badlands and Arc Wolf packs that wander the Frozen North. I only hope the subject wakes soon. I’m confident in my earlier assessment that his race is intelligent, and we just might be able to find some common ground on which we can establish communica—"

Quick Mend let out a cry of shock as the faint glow around his horn, identical to the one surrounding his quill suddenly and painfully flared. His magical grip on his quill sent it scrawling across his notes, ruining a mostly fresh piece of parchment. His eyes went wide with shock as the article went forgotten.

That was the warning enchantment he had placed on the equipment monitoring the subject’s heart beat alerting him to a sudden, unpredictable change in the subject’s life-signs.

It was flat-lining.

Quick Mend was on his hooves and dashing from his suite in the castle for the nearest staircase as quickly as his legs would carry him, all the while muttering “No!” under his breath over and over again. He paused only once he had reached the exit for the floor where the hospital wing was housed to catch his breath and regain his balance. Running down spiral staircases tended to leave most ponies with a feeling of dizziness and nausea, to which Quick Mend was no exception. He rushed past a small group of cleaning mares, startling them as he bowled over their cart full of supplies.

He ignored their indignant shouts and the feather duster now tangled up in his mane and pressed on, determined to reach the subject’s room. “Celestia please don’t let me be too late,” he pleaded in between breaths as he barreled through the double doors into the hospital wing. Several guards gave him curious looks as he passed, but shrugged it off. It wasn’t the first time Quick Mend had been seen running about the castle like a madpony.

Quick Mend barreled down the hallway and rounded the corner, skidding to a halt at the sight before him. The two guards stationed outside of the subject’s room were splayed out on the marble floor, both rendered unconscious from blows to the head, if the dents in their helmets were anything to judge by.

The doctor’s pulse raced in his throat as he slowly turned his attention to the open door of the room, where a long, drawn-out tone indicated the flat-lined signal. Nervously, Quick Mend eased himself into the room. Sure enough, the cables that had been connecting the heart monitor to the subject laid, unconnected to flesh, on the now empty examination table.

Quick Mend’s imagination took hold, running through dozens of possibilities in a manner of seconds. 'Could the creature have escaped? No, he was too injured. He wouldn’t be strong enough to incapacitate the guards. Could somepony have foalnapped him? Possible, but the only ponies who knew about the creature were a few select guards, the Captain, Princess Cadance and himself.'

'Unless somepony saw us bring the subject into the castle.' Quick Mend realized as he paced back and forth in the darkened room. The thought froze him in his tracks. 'They might have stolen him. Perhaps they intend to unveil him to the public and take credit for his discovery.'

He let out a loud gasp. “They don’t know that he could be intelligent! They might kill him and cut him open!” He slammed his hoof down dramatically against the cold marble flooring. “No. I won’t allow this! I must find them and put a stop to… this… villainy?” Quick Mend’s voice trailed off as he looked up from the ground and found himself staring at the creature in question, now towering several hooves above him.

The creature stared back with bright teal eyes that seemed to glow in the dim lighting. Then it flashed Quick Mend a predatory smile that sent a shiver down the doctor’s pony. Quick Mend’s mind was blank for a few short seconds as the two stared at each other.

The creature raised its arm above its head. Quick Mend’s eyes followed it for a moment, before the creature swung down and Quick Mend’s world exploded with a brief flash of pain before fading to the dark embrace of unconsciousness.





Starbrought





The cry echoed around the desert as Yuri attempted to unleash all his pain and rage into one, fierce roar. He was angry, tired, and generally unamused with being dumped in the middle of nowhere.

“Slayer~!” 

If there were birds in the damned land, they would have taken flight in fear. If there were trees, their leaves would have begun to move from the volume of the yell. Anything with a remote amount of intelligence would have fled for the hills, at the pure exasperation and anguish in the technician’s voice.

But Yuri was not in a forest of any sort, and little life inhabited it. Rather, he was in an endless plain of sand. Instead of birds and trees, there were cacti and snakes. Instead of having a shadow to give the place a cool temperature, the sun ruled here with a gassy fist. So the shout didn't really do anything.

Yuri finished his yell, looking around to see if anything had heard him or moved at all. But it was the same lifeless, sandy plain that he had been seeing and walking through for most of the day. “I hope Slayer heard that; he’s gonna need a head start for when I come for my revenge,” He said sadistically, venom dripping from the statement.

Yuri looked down at the bottom of the massive sand dune he had walked up. He had nearly fallen all the way down to the little valley that had been formed between the dunes after ages of sand blowing. And now he had finally reached the top of it, and the only way to get Slayer and make him suffer was to get to the other dune across from him.

And the only way to do that was to go down.

Yuri screamed like a little girl as he slid down the massive dune at tremendous speeds, dodging rocks and making sure not to run into any cacti that might have somehow grown into the dune. 'Who said trying to exact revenge couldn't be fun?' Yuri thought as he reached the bottom of the dune. He sat back up and began to walk in the shadow of another dune, making the sun’s mighty rays a little less mighty on him. 

You know the saying that a place is a lovely place to visit, but you would not want to live there? It pretty much summed up the desert, in his opinion. Yuri found himself thinking about a time when he was in a similar situation, but instead of being lost, he was being tested.

“Let's not think about that, on second thought...” He sighed to himself as his mind brought up memories that he would have destroyed if he had the chance, but he never could bring himself to forget what he had done. He could not, he would not. And as such, the flashbacks came...

“Please... I have a family. I have a kid, he’s only seven... Please,” a voice begged in pain and anguish.

“Do you expect pity? You betrayed the Empire, forsaken just and fair laws; you have to be punished... Prepare yourself.”

“No... NO! DON’T DO IT, PLEA—“ *boom* 

“Well done, Yuri," a snide voice said on the sidelines. "Or should I say... Rear-Admiral Yuri.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Yuri shook his head again, desperately trying to clear his mind. “No... go away,” the pirate mumbled again, this time much more softer. Yuri had to pull himself together; he needed to keep his focus on the present, not in his grim past—

He was suddenly on the bridge of a ship, orbiting a planet. Yuri looked out the window and saw a still, blue sphere with white puffs marring the surface and continents scattered like jigsaw pieces in a pond. One could have considered the view absolutely beautiful, daresay entrancing... were it was not surrounded by a fleet of Imperial Warships. Several dozen burning hulks of ships spun in space, floating without any crew.

“This is President Linzee of the Planet Autumn. We surrender... we surrender, just let us live...” Crackling sounded off as the feed was transferred away from the monitor.

“What are you orders, Admiral Lawrence?”

“How many creatures are on the planet, Captain?“

“Creatures, sir?”

An irritated sigh was heard. “How many humans are on the planet?”

“One-billion, and twenty-million, sir.”

“That seems a bit much for a planet of this size. I believe we have to dwindle that down a little bit...”

“Sir?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you suggesting we do what I think you're telling us to do?”

“No, I’m not suggesting it. I’m ordering it. Relay the message to the fleet.“

Hesitation for only a moment, before a holographic button was pressed. “This is Captain Yuri, direct orders from Admiral Lawrence: all fighters are hereby ordered to fall back and dock. All other ships: target highly-populated centers on the planet with Heavy Fusion warheads. Once they have been annihilated, concentrate all firepower on any remaining populations over five-hundred thousand. Call in when ready.”

“Sir,” an officer stated as he examined the radar, “an Alliance fleet has just warped in, ten minutes ‘till arrival.”

“Don’t worry. I intend for us to be long gone before they get here.”

“Fleet reports ready, sir.”

“Fire.”

Yuri smirked as dozens of purple lights flew towards the plan—

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssss...

Yuri’s eyes shot opened as he heard something very familiar. He looked down towards his right side, yet nothing was there. “It can’t be...” He murmured to himself. He hadn't heard that sound since he was a kid.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssss...

Yuri turned his head very, very slowly to his left, being careful not to move any part of his body too suddenly. He looked towards his bag he had sat down, and sure enough, there was a snake crawling inside of it, probably looking for food. Sorry that it’s going to be disappointed, Yuri thought as he bored holes into the writhing body.

“Shoo,” Yuri grumbled as he moved his hands in a fashion of which it would seem he was shooing away a cat, not a snake. The snake did not even acknowledge him, instead electing to continuing its search of the pack for anything that would work as food for it. “Shoo...” Yuri trailed off again, mirroring the same movement, though this time with more force. The snake poked its head out of the bag, staring straight at Yuri with an almost amused stare.

A classic Standoff.

“Mr. Snake... get out of my bag,” Yuri stated as he lunged forward and grabbed the snake, throwing it out of the bag and onto the hot sand. He grabbed his pack and ran as fast as he could. The direction did not matter, all he wanted to do was to get as far away from the pissed off snake as he could. He may or may not have screamed like a little girl during this instance, as well.

The technician proceeded to keep running as fast as he could, barely recollecting how much distance he traveled as he moved. He had a previous experience with the vile things—which recollection was most certainly not wanted—that now made him fear and hate them with a burning passion.

Yuri finally came to a stop on top of a smaller dune, getting on his hands and knees while gasping for air. He had run for who knows how long and had covered a great distance. His body was not hesitating in letting him know how it felt about having to run so far and so fast. It was not happy in the slightest, to say the least. 

After catching his breath, Yuri stood up and looked around to see where he was. He was expecting to see the same dull desert, but for once in his life Lady Luck would shine on his day. He saw trees, grass, and all sorts of other lifeforms. A comfortable air hung around his new surroundings, relieving the heat he had been going through not more than a few minutes ago.

He had found an oasis. And where there was plants, there was water....

“Water!” Yuri screamed as he slid down the dune towards the life-giving force that was water. He jumped over a rock and did a combat roll, springing back up and running towards the water at full speed. His body had completely forgotten of what it felt after running all that way. He cleared another rock and jumped off, prepping to leap head-first into the water.

Only to crash head-first into a palm tree.

“Ow...” Yuri mumbled through gritted teeth as he rubbed his sun-bleached face, trying to make sure that there was no blood coming out. The last thing he wanted was to get an infection in the middle of the desert with limited medical aide because he busted his burnt face on a palm tree. He squinted at the offending bark. “Screw you too, then.”

He took this time (after getting over the after-sting of the collision) to get out his water bottles and his water cleaning tablets. The tablets would kill any form of bacteria and would also give the water a crisp, blueberry taste. Yuri was glad he had some limited foresight to grab a couple just in case, and to store them in a hidden compartment. Slayer definitely didn't have any, and that thought comforted Yuri.

He made sure there were no dangerous snakes by him, and began to walk towards the water as  carefully as he could. He got there and filled all of his bottles with water, then dropped a tablet in each of them. Blue bubbles began to fill the container as the tablet did it’s magic. The particle-filled water was soon crystal clear.

Yuri took the bottle and chugged it, his taste buds active as the blueberry-flavoured water went down his throat, parching his thirst he had since awakening. He tipped the bottle back in and filled it up, doing the process over and over again. Drop tablet, wait, chug, repeat.

This went on until Yuri was fully hydrated, his belly full of the beautiful liquid. Quickly patting his face down with some water to cool the burns, he attempted to consider his next course of action. He stood up and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes in thought. He needed sleep, and then food. Definitely in that order. Ignoring the protests of his stomach, Yuri went over to where a tree was—not the tree he crashed into, mind you, for the technician wanted nothing to do with the asshole—and laid down again in the cool shade. He closed his eyes and began to drift off to sleep.

Suddenly, before any sleep could be ascertained, his good ear began picking up flapping of sorts. It increased, and wind began picking up around the oasis as he looked about curiously for the cause. Yuri heard several thuds afterwards, which then somehow triggered an odd continuous noise similar to a horde of... something undefinable.

“What the hell—?” Something slammed into his head at a force that was hardly necessary, knocking him unconscious similar to Slayer’s T.K.O. Punch, if not worse. Unfortunately for Yuri, and fortunately for whoever began speaking afterwards, that strike did not belong to the bounty hunter as Yuri tumbled to the ground. 

“Captain Iron Wing! We’ve found something...”

“Oh? And what would that... be...”

“Sir...?”

“Corporal!...I can see several weapons that obviously are not from here.”

“Your point, Captain?”

“If we can acquire and use it, we could deal with the nuisances that’s been in our kingdom's backside as of late.”

“Should we just take the things and leave... whatever this is here?”

“Negative. We need something to show us how it works, and he just volunteered whether he knows it or not. Load him and prepare to continue the flight.”

“Yes, sir!”





Starbrought





Drake let out a grunt as he tossed the leg of the tray table aside. His body ached all over from the numerous wounds he had received when the Ethereal crash landed, but he couldn't let that stop him. It couldn't, even if he wanted it to.

When Drake had finally come to minutes before, he had first been shocked to find himself in a marble floored and walled room filled with medical equipment. Antique medical equipment, for that matter. The heart monitor wasn’t even holographic and didn’t register minor muscle twitches or brainwave activity.

Even worse, his wounds had been stitched shut. Stitched. Now he was going to have even more scars. Stitching hadn’t been used since the twenty-fourth century, with the invention of Biofoam that could rapidly seal wounds and leave a protective coating over them for up to months at a time, preventing infection and scarring.

Drake grumbled incoherently under his breath as he searched around the small room for his clothes. His search proved fruitless, only turning up spare sheets for the table he had woken up on, and the average, dull green hospital smocks worn by nurses all across the galaxy, only resized and fitted for the four legged aliens that had captured him.

Grunting in irritation, and moving slower than he would’ve like due to his injuries, Drake quickly modified the fabric he had found into something resembling a sheet wrapped around his lower body. Perhaps not the most elegant solution, and certainly a sight to make any fashion designer in the galaxy faint, but it was a better solution in his mind than remaining naked.

Turning his attention to the door, Drake made his way out into the hall, pausing only long enough to drag the two unconscious armored aliens back inside and pick up the leg of the tray table once more. A moment passed in thought, before he brought the alien garbed in medical attire into the room as well.

One of his neural implants, the one that remained connected to his equipment at all times, indicated that it was all on the move, headed for somewhere else inside the building where he had been taken sometime while he was still unconscious.

If he could get his hands on his equipment, he’d be in much better shape. Not only would he have his weapons, but he had three emergency canisters of Biofoam tucked away in the folds of his coat. He could easily undo the stitching and patch himself up with the foam. Then, all he would have to do is make his way back to the Ethereal crash site to assess the damages to his ship, and hope that Slayer and Yuri were alright. Otherwise, he might just be stuck on this world for a long time.

Satisfied with his plans, Drake exited the room as quietly as he could and began to make his way down the massive hallway, following the general hints on where to go from his implants, and blissfully unaware that he was being followed by a curious, and suspicious blue-maned guard captain.





Starbrought




> {Edited} Chapter Four - First Contact
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





Shields, Drakeson. Prisoner. Identification Number: One-Zero-One-Zero-One-Zero. Crime: Defiance.

Drake forced himself to take another step forward. According to the information his neural implants were receiving, his possessions had stopped moving and were together in one location. And now he was close to where they were.

However, his wounds were starting to ache. Whatever medicine he had been treated with was starting to wear off, and the slightest movement of his muscles caused intense pains to shoot through his body. At this point, the only motivation he had to keep going was the knowledge that he had canisters of biofoam amongst his possessions.

That, and the never-ending determination to escape unjustified captivity for the second time in his life.

Shields, Drakeson. Prisoner. Identification number One-Zero-One-Zero-One-Zero. Crime: Defiance.

Never again. Drake had sworn that to himself when he escaped the Alliance prison facility on Oranus V three years ago, the same day he declared himself a pirate.

He was going to reclaim his equipment and get the hell out of wherever he was even if it killed him.

’I’m not going to let myself become a prisoner again,’ Drake told himself as he took another step, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pains on his body as he did so. ’Never again. Never.’ Shining Armor ducked behind yet another pillar as Drake paused, eyes closed in intense pain. It had been like this for nearly a half hour. 

The alien would only walk a couple of yards before he needed to stop and rest. The looks on its face told Shining Armor all he needed to know. This alien, whatever it was, wherever it had come from, however more advanced it might be; it was not immune to physical pain.

But, even with that knowledge, the alien’s actions confused the guardpony. If it was hurt enough to the point that it had to stop frequently due to the pain, then why did it press on like a dehydrated pony in the desert, searching for a source of water to quench his thirst?

He could have stopped the alien. All he would have to do would be to cast a shield bubble around it. With its injuries, it wouldn’t be able to resist magic very well. And yet, Shining led him continue on. It had passed the staircases to the royal bedchambers (so Princess Cadance was still safe), as well as the passages to the staff quarters and the barracks. So the alien clearly wasn’t searching for anypony. There was nothing left down this particular wing of the castle that could possibly be of any interest.

And, since there shouldn’t be anyone down this wing at this hour until the next patrol came along, there wasn’t any harm in simply following the alien from a safe distance. Far enough away to avoid detection, but close enough to intervene should the alien (by some twist of Fate) turn violent toward a pony he might happen across.

‘It was all in the name of science,’ as Shining’s younger sister would say.

Though he hadn’t been briefed on the full extent of the aliens’ injuries, Shining guessed that its left leg had been badly damaged, as he walked with a severe limp that nearly caused him to fall over on more than half a dozen occasions so far.

’Definitely a miracle that you can still walk,’ Shining said to the alien inside his mind. ’Just what are you after?’

Drake paused as he reached an intersection of side passages, doing his best to estimate which path he needed to take to get closer to his equipment. Without a proper floor plan to guide him, and only knowing which direction to walk in, Drake knew he could easily get lost. And with his injuries as bad as they were, getting lost or having to backtrack could be exceptionally bad for his health.

Ultimately, he left it up to any greater powers that may or may not exist and continued moving forward. ’Lady Luck, don’t fail me now.’ And so on he trudged, limping heavily as he went. Shining Armor carefully slipped out from behind his cover and crept along after him.





Starbrought





“Captain, are you sure this is the same thing from that craft?” The griffin named Iron Wing commented as he poked a talon into the creature's chest for no apparent reason. It was firm and muscular, with no visible sign or feeling of anything that would be called fat (if it even existed for this thing). “It kind of  looks like a minotaur, at least. Just, you know, without the horns. It even has the same basic shape as one in any case.” 

“It is, Private Iron Wing. Besides, what kind of minotaur would have something like this, or be as strangely shaped as it?” Captain Night Skies retorted as he lifted up the creature’s muscular arms to show them the strange pulsing-red cover on its minotaur-esque hands.

None of the griffins had ever seen something like that before. It could be magic, but they had no way of knowing for certain. No, they had found something special. Something unique. And they were damn sure that they were going to keep it at all costs, no matter who or what happened to show up and take it.

“Then, Sir; if it is not a minotaur, then what in the name of Tartarus is it?” Another griffin called out in confusion, asking the question that was on all of his brother’s minds since the moment they had seen the massive dust cloud kicked up by the crash.

They all stood around in silence, waiting for someone else to answer the question that none of them dared to, simply because they had no idea how to. 

Night Skies suddenly spoke up, breaking the long silence that had formed over the group of soldiers. “Alright. I don’t know about any of you, but this heat is really starting to rustle my feathers in the wrong way. So, this is what we are going to do: We are going to take this thing and its weapons back to Altai with us. From there, we'll leave it to some other chumps and have a fun time at a bar. Sound good to you messy lot?”

“Yes sir!”

“You got it!”

“Can’t we wait here and take a nap?" A lone, whiny voice called out over the agreements with Night Skies’ plan. "It’s our break and I really need a nap.”  Night Skies turned back and sighed... 

’This griffin again, why didn’t I just leave him behind?’ He thought to himself as he rolled his eyes.

“Private Griffon, what do you mean ‘you need to take a nap’?” Night Skies asked as he turned towards Private Griffon,  who was leaning on a tree, which was an unusual position for a griffin to be in. 

“Well... It’s been a long day of flying. And since this is the only oasis that we could find while chasing this thing, I think it’s the perfect place for a nice, long break.” Private Griffon said lazily.

“So let me get this straight,” Night Skies yelled as he stuck his face right into Griffon’s, a look of rage on his face that would have made the most stoic soldiers collapse from fright. “You would rather us wait here for you to take a nap (for who knows how long), rather than take this creature home and use its tools to give us an advantage over the Minotaurs and be able to beat them in this war?!” 

“No need to get mad like that, Nighty,” Griff said sarcastically as he flew up into the air, before landing on a tree and yawning. From the looks of it, he was going to get ready to take a nap. But the moment he closed his eyes, something closed around his windpipe and brought him back down to the sandy-soil mixture.. He looked up and saw an armored paw gripped around his throat, leading straight to an absolute livid Night Skies.

“Listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a soldier!” Captain Night Skies growled as he tightened his grip on Griff’s neck until a wheezing sound escaped from his throat. “This is what’s going to happen you little runt of a hatchling: You are going shut up for the rest of this mission. Or so help me, I will break your wings myself and leave you to die in this forsaken desert!” A small hint of a pause remained before Captain Skies spoke again in a lower, more menacing tone as he tightened his talons. “Do you understand me, son?”

“Yes, Sir...” Griff managed to breath out, and he gasped as Night Skies’ claw released his throat, allowing the precious air to flow once again through the griffin’s begging lungs. He sat there gasping for a solid minute before he was able to stand up.

“You’re going to take the creature on your back as we return to Altai. I better not hear you complain even once, or else I will make good on my threats. Now, let’s get going already...” Night Skies said as he pointed towards the unconscious biped currently sitting under a tree.

“The rest of you. Take off and circle overhead. And since Private Griff thought it would be funny to act like a chick, you will all be spending your evening cleaning the barracks until it is so shiny the Queen herself would be honored to take a crap there. Now, get moving!” Night Skies roared as the other members of the squad took flight and began to follow their orders.

Griff walked over towards the unconscious creature, ignoring the looks of hatred, disappointment, and the occasional word mouthed under their beak.  He reached down and grabbed the creature with a groan of effort, before flinging it not-so-gently over his back. He stretched out his wings before taking flight into the air, and beginning the long fly home.





Starbrought





With a heaving sigh, the ‘thud’ of two simultaneous bodies colliding against the ground sounded off. One remained motionless, and the other was shuddering with every breath it took. A thick veil of quiet serenity fell then, which may have lasted anywhere from a few moments, to a few minutes. Finally, the animated apparatus stood groaning in a tired manner.

“God-damn, that was not pleasant,” Slayer mumbled as he used his katana to help right himself. Around him, several corpses from the beasts he fought remained scattered across the miniature battlefield. His armour was scratched, bloodied, and dented in multiple areas that seemed to be completely random.

Limping just slightly, he made his way over to the final beast that he had combated. The alpha, if its ferocity was anything to go by compared to the others. It was a strange thing, and from its build Slayer could presume it was masculine.

To describe it shortly, it was a bipedal hound-dog. Not just that one though, the entire lot was. Their fur was gray onyx, which helped to camouflage them against the rocky interior of what must’ve been their den. Some breeds were familiar from holovids, and some weren’t. In the end, Slayer didn’t care about political-correctness after having had to battle them.

As for the alpha specifically, he couldn’t get a breed on it. It looked like a mixture between a Kath Hound (digging through files revealed this to be a descendant of coyotes) that still plagued settlers on the grassland planet of Dantooine, and a bulldog. ’Strange looking bugger, but it definitely could fight,’ Slayer thought as he sheathed his blade and glanced in exhaustion at his energy supply.

There was good news, and bad news with that glance. The good, was the fact that the battle took place under a star, which provided energy to replenish the depleted source. The bad though... was that the energy exerted during the fight counterbalanced a majority of it, leaving him only with around twenty-five percent to work with.

Curiosity began flowing through him though. Slayer had not expected the beasts to be wearing some form of tattered leather armour, which seemed hastily and poorly made. It was the kind that only a lesser sapient could create, but the fact that they could made him question the sapience of other races on whatever forsaken realm he was in.

’If these dogs had sapience... then who’s to say that the hoofprints from the captors aren’t left from sapient equines?’ That possibility flitted about his conscious as Slayer began to pat down the forms and try to loot what he could. They wouldn’t be needing anything he could acquire, after all...

Unfortunately once more, what he could scrounge up was pathetic. A small vial of water (which he was wary of drinking), a semi-sharpened spearhead (which looked like a work in progress), and some leather straps were all he could ascertain from the underlying corpses. With a sigh, he placed his small stash into his pack, and looked about himself.

The earlier cyclone of sand particles had wiped away any trace of Drake’s captors. The Module proved useless in this regard, for the high-velocity winds swept away any lingering DNA, or piled fresh sand over it. And of course, due to being turned around so suddenly to get shelter, the direction he was taking also was lost to the assassin.

“Fuck. Me. Sideways,” Slayer deadpanned as he, in a fit of annoyance, kicked the lead dog’s corpse. The strength behind it wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to roll it over onto its side so that the torso faced him. That’s when he noticed something even more interesting...

From this angle, his previous assumption on the mix looked accurate. The reddened fur around the head was just like one of those damnable Kath Hounds, and the muzzle resembled the bulldogs that he saw from time to time in run-of-the-mill towns. Staring into the open and still lifeless eyes showed them to be a darkened brown, clashing against the very light-gray fur that encompassed the body. But, what caught his eye was the talisman hanging from the creature’s neck. It was a beaded necklace, and hanging in the middle, was an inscribed iron claw.

Leaning in, he undid the tied knot in the back of it, and held it up in the light. The claw was definitely natural, so the iron coating had to have been done by something with sapience... like the equines, for example. The inscription was undecipherable, nothing but strange markings in different directions and styles.

’It certainly have artistic flair, and quality craftsmanship for non-technologically advanced natives. Might as well keep it around,’ he decided as he began to slip the artifact into his bag. That is, until he paused, and reexamined the acquired piece. Gazing idly over to the alpha’s corpse, he let out a small sigh.

“If I am taking, then I can at least do this...” Slayer readjusted himself so his hand could be near the eyes of the beast, and with one fluid motion and comment, the lids were closed shut. “May peace keep you,” he murmured as he unhinged his helmet, briefly removed it to place the talisman around his neck, and sealed it into place once more.

Standing up, the metal-clad warrior rolled his shoulders. Waving away the Module, he double-checked his suit to make sure everything was stable. Since no attacks had punctured the iron shell, he set the system to Idle, so that it was ready to perform any task beyond basic vital checks and alert signals without expending higher amounts of energy.

Picking the direction where he believed he left off, he began to travel once more. As Slayer walked, some of the sacred phrases he followed echoed in his mind:

’One must succumb to the shade, and then shine under the sun, to truly save humanity from its ignorance. Honour what you take, and bow to no rules, from no states. Remember: Fate, guides all paths... to their true roles.’





Starbrought





Drake peered around yet another corner, doing his best to avoid leaning too far over, lest the guard standing in front of a door midway down the hall spotted him.

According to the signal his implants were receiving, his possessions were in the guarded room. That of course meant that the only thing left between him and the pain-dulling miracle that is biofoam was a single guard armed with a spear.

Not one to be discouraged, Drake tightened his grip on the crossbow he had stolen from a display case he had passed a while back. He carefully edged around the corner and aimed the weapon. While he lacked the experienced with using such a primitive ranged weapon, he knew he only needed to make enough noise to draw the attention of the guard.

He squeezed his finger around the trigger, and the crossbow fired. The bolt sailed well past its intended target (an expensive looking vase on a marble pedestal). Drake let out a groan and prepared to load another bolt.

Before he could so much as reach for another one, his first shot struck an over-sized suit of armor that had been crafted for display purposes. The armor fell apart as gravity took hold and the pieces bounced and crashed loudly against the floor, startling both the pony guard and Drake.

The guard abandoned his post and immediately took off down the hall to investigate the source of the disturbance. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Drake immediately bolted around the corner and limped/attempted to sprint to the door before the guard looked around. The sudden surge of adrenaline from knowing how close he was to completing the first part of his plan numbed his pain and helped him along.

The door swung open with almost no effort on Drake’s part, which brought a grin to the pirate’s face. ’Amateurs.’

The room couldn’t have been much more than a glorified storage closet. A few wooden crates were stacked here and there, and a trio of barrels lined one of the walls. But Drake paid little attention to those. He had his sights set on a trio of lead-lined cases. A grin spread rapidly across his face as he eagerly approached them.

Shining Armor barreled around the corner after the alien as fast as he could, only to catch a quick glimpse of the cloth it had been wearing vanish into a doorway. The guard pony that had been stationed in front of the door turned at the sound of hoofbeats reached his ears.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of Shining’s silver Sergeant’s armour, the guard snapped to attention and gave Shining a salute. “Sergeant!”

“What’s going on here?” Shining demanded.

“Investigating the source of a disturbance, Sir,” the guard replied. “Something knocked down one of the armour sets and I was trying to find out what.”

“No time for that,” Shining explained. “Come with me.”

“Sir?” The guard hesitated for a brief moment before following Shining as he backtracked toward the door to the storage room. The alien stood over three open crates that had contained the items taken from it. The front of his clothes were left open as he slowly squeezed a foamy substance out of a tube onto his wounds. The alien let out a sigh of relief and tucked away the tube before turning to face the two guardsponies.





Starbrought





’Need... food...’

This was a constant in the mind of Slayer, as he walked the barren wasteland that encompassed the known space that he traveled. Due to Yuri’s incompetence, food had been forgotten, and truly Slayer didn’t wish to test to see if the dog-like creatures he encountered had good meat.

He felt like this was worse than the Death Marches he saw Syndicate recruits go through, with entire regiments marching for hours upon hours without rest. At least for them, they had the bare-minimum knowledge that it would end at some point. Slayer did not. But this provided both drive and initiative to the assassin as he walked.

’I’m going to jack-slap Drake so hard for getting himself captured,’ Slayer thought as that whisper of his mind seemed to echo throughout his senses. It wasn’t like this was a noisy realm. Even the wind was barely blowing, and the only sound Slayer knew of that was occurring was his feet lightly treading the sand.

That bothered him. Because even though his steps were calculated and quick so as to avoid having the weight of the armour make a deeper indent, it was still significantly noticeable if someone was looking for tracks. The gusts of air were doing nothing to remove them, and it made him weary. He considered dragging his katana horizontally behind him to remove the markings, but it would most likely bring attention regardless of trying to deal with it or not.

Instead, Slayer’s hands hung limply to his side, with his left holding one of his Sabre Shots. He preferred the fighting style of having his katana lightened so he could swing it easily in his right hand, and either of his custom-pistols in his left. The perfect combination of melee and ranged combat capability, Slayer always thought as he ascended yet another dune in his path.

Going uphill is usually a challenge for anyone, but being hungry on top of it makes the task far worse. Slayer couldn’t maneuver up it like a slope, but rather he had to dig his toes into the actual slope due to its steep slant, and then tried to use his free hand to help him up. And of course, he couldn’t go around it for it was formed like a mini-mountain range. And that was something he couldn’t consider to go around, for time was running short.

As he awkwardly scaled the jagged pile of sand, he glanced up at the sun to confirm that it was mid-afternoon, but given a few hours would result in nightfall. And that could very well be his final hours if he couldn’t locate some form of sustenance.

’You know, I was kinda expecting to see an oasis by now,’ Slayer hoped dejectedly as he climbed. ’I’ve crossed significant distance, and from vantage points atop dunes, examined double or even triple that.’ A sigh escaped his lips.

The horizon became visible to Slayer as he reached the crest of yet another section of endless—

…

’Well, what’s this here?’ Slayer questioned to himself as he went into a prone-position slowly onto the hill. While there was the expected expanse of endless sand, there was something else. It was moving, but its distance from his position was too great, and as such he had difficulty looking at it normally.

He let out a groan of frustration under his breath. “Yet another reason why I should’ve installed HawkEyes when I had the chance,” Slayer complained lightly.

HawkEyes was an optical lens-slash-visor that mixed with current sensor technology to provide zooming features. it was of Slayer’s own design (like many of his gadgets), but he didn’t have the time to reintegrate it after it shorted out the first time. And right now, Slayer could’ve used it.

When he looked back up at the foreign object, it was to his delighted surprise that it happened to come closer into focus, enabling him to make it out to a better degree. From the looks of it, it was actually a group of... somethings. In the centre, a larger mass sat in their midst, but its purpose was unknown from this measure of space.

Quickly, Slayer watched their direction, and allowed his eyes to scan the imaginative guideline that they were heading. A dune sat a short distance away, and would be close enough to provide cover while simultaneously giving a solid picture of what those were. With this goal in mind, he quickly navigated his way down the slippery slope and trudged towards the next point.

’Whatever those are, I hope they’re edible,’ Slayer wished as he surprisingly cleared the area between the two dunes with extraordinary speed. He briefly noted this, before ceasing to care and then proceeded to go up the hill.

He had a far easier time with this one, and after reaching the summit of the mini-dune in comparison to the one he was just previously on, he laid himself out and began analysing the closer group of figures.

The most immediate noted fact was that they had four legs. This put Slayer on edge, especially upon confirmation that they were equine in nature. His focus went to the center, and it appeared to be a closed-off wagon of sorts.

’Could this be the group I’ve been looking for? Is Drake in that wagon?’

This made him curious, weary, and bloodthirsty nearly all at the same time. One thing that threw him off though, was that they were all zebras. Black-and-white striped equines, with odd-looking hairstyles. Some were simple, and hung like long flowing hair would normally do for females. And then, Slayer’s seeing some with mohawks. The change of style, but lack of gender swap baffled him.

Alert with the possibility of his acquaintance residing in the wooden construct, Slayer drew both of his Sabres and tensed his body to ambush the convoy. From the looks of it, they probably didn’t reach higher than his abdomen, and the most he saw they were armed with were long bamboo staffs.

But, Fate decided to beat him to it.

As he was about to start firing shots, the entire group stopped. Slayer saw several of their member’s heads whip about frantically, and he just barely heard some incomprehensible babble that sounded afraid. ’Could they have heard me?’

“Angalia nje!”

Slayer’s eyebrows creased in confusion at the phrase and backpedaling natives, before several holes began being made. The sand above them began pouring in, sucking up the natural element as the count of six holes formed around the caravan. Slayer watched cautiously at the angry looks that the zebras were giving the pits, before he saw a claw appear out of one of the holes.

The claw gripped the side of sand next to the hole, before a second claw came out and gripped the opposite section of the hole. With both of these in place, the entity applied force and lifted itself out.

’Oh great, more of these hounds...’

Sure enough, what emerged was a dark-brown Rottweiler, which stood nearly as tall as Slayer did. This one had the looks of an alpha, and it looked more imposing than the previous beasts he had to encounter.

Then he saw a second pair of claws coming from another hole, and saw that one pull itself out. Smaller, perhaps a Labrador that reached about to Slayer’s chin. And that was all he could care to count before several clawed their way out of the multiple tunnels.

By the end of the movement, Slayer had counted ten of the hound-esque creatures standing off against the seven zebras. Nothing happened, and for about a moment the metal-clad warrior questioned what he could do. Three of the dogs had spears, crudely made but still deadly enough. The zebras did not, putting them worse off by having no visible sharp objects.

He watched as what he presumed to be the head of the caravan stepped forward and addressed the alpha in that jumbled language Slayer was unfamiliar with. “Nyuma, wewe pepo!”

The alpha said nothing, electing instead to snarl and rush the zebras. Its underlings followed suit, and before he knew it there was a battle not more than forty yards away from his position on the hill. Staffs met spears, hooves met claws; it was an all-out expected bloodbath.

’What to do...’ Slayer questioned with concern. ’If I let the hounds win, I may lose Drake and have to fight tougher opponents with no support. There’s no way the zebras will win unless I intervene, and if I do: would it be enough to convince them to give me Drake?’

He debated with himself for a few moments, before promptly standing and holstering his right Sabre Shot. Plucking his katana, and subconsciously willing the device to compact itself to turn it into a one-handed blade, he held it to his side as he charged downhill towards the battle.





Starbrought





“Captain Sky, permission to speak, Sir?” Corporal Iron Wing questioned nervously as he flew up to catch up with the Captain, who was flying with a righteous vengeance to get back to Altai along with the rest of the group, and to be done with the creature. 

“Permission granted, Corporal. What do you need to ask me?” Night Skies’ booming voice called out as he continued to fly at very high speeds, the griffin next to him barely able to keep up with his amazing speed that he was setting.

“Well, I think we should send some word to King Leo in Altai to let them know about our... very strange guest that will be arriving very shortly if we continue this pace, Sir.” Corporal Iron Wing said as he struggled to keep up with Skies’ flight. Fortunately for him, the captain began to slow down just enough so that the young griffin would not tire himself out too badly.

“You make a good point; I don’t know why we never thought of this before.” Night Skies joked as he slowed down a little bit more. “It would make sense for us to send someone to warn the king about our guest. Speaking of which; Private Griff!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to catch the griffin’s attention over the howling of the cold wind. Griff turned and looked towards him, but was unable to hear him. All he saw was Night opening his mouth in his general direction.

“Private Griff, can you hear me?” Night Skies roared again at the top of his lungs once more, trying to catch his attention but failing at it.

“Sir, we have been flying for quite some time. Perhaps we could take a short break?” Corporal Iron Wing shouted, trying to get his attention, which he fortunately got.

“Smart idea. We need to get some better communication going. Go back and tell the others to stop; we're gonna take a break at that cloud over there.” He pointed towards a rather large cloud over the desert. Iron Wing nodded and flew back to the heart of the main formation, passing the word around.

When everyone was safely standing on the cloud, or doing whatever, Night went over to where Griff was standing and decided now was the best time to ask some questions. And possibly grill the griffin again, if it was needed.

“How is our guest doing? Has it woken up or done anything of the alive nature?” Night asked as he looked over, noticing a slight blue tinge to what he would guess was the cheeks of it. Its eyes were closed and its breathing was short and fast, something that was never good on ground or in the sky.

“It hasn't said anything, or moved for that matter, Nighty.” Griff said as he purposely used Night’s nickname to mess with the Captain, not worrying a bit about the consequences. 

Night ignored the name, knowing Griff was just trying to make him mad. He walked over behind Griff and put his talon on the creature's neck, and a stone dropped in his stomach as he felt a rapid heartbeat coming from what he guessed was its heart, or possibly hearts for that matter. But in any case, there was a very good chance that the creature would not make it if they continued to be at this altitude for anymore than they had to.  He had to get word out to Altai fast to make sure that once the thing was there, that it would live long enough for the information to be gathered from it.

And for that, he needed someone fast, and he knew just the griffin for the job. He quickly took a piece of paper out of his bag and wrote a small, quick note that would accompany his messenger and give some word of warning to the Guards there and the few scientists there. 

“Private Swift Wind, I have a mission of the utmost importance for you.” Night called out into the group of resting griffins. A single, slightly smaller than the rest griffin walked out and saluted Night, respecting his senior-ranking officer.

“Yes, Sir? What do you need?” Swift said very proper and crisp like a proper soldier, eliciting a small smirk followed by a laugh from Griff. He shut up upon a murderous look from Night.

“I need you to take this letter to King Leo as fast as you possibly can and tell him Code Fifty-Six; you got that Private?” Night said in a militaristic tone.

“Yes, Sir. Ready to depart on your order!”

“What are you waiting for?! Go!” And with that, he sped off into the sky at speeds that would make the pansy pony air-team, the Wonderbolts, jealous with his speed. He then turned back to Griff, who was staring at his back with a look of pure horror.

“Griff... What’s wrong?” Night asked, the bad feeling in his stomach slowly becoming more and more heavy with the feeling of worry. He followed the younger griffin’s gaze, to stare directly into the eyes of the creature.

“Что во имя металлический зад убийцы ты!”





Starbrought





Shining Armor shook his head to clear it. The alien had thrown something at him and the other guard. Something that exploded in a brilliant flash of white light with a thunderous thu’um that had left his ears ringing. The world around him was still spinning violently and his vision slipped in and out of focus as he struggled to right himself.

He was vaguely aware of a hoof on his back, helping to steady him, and the sound of the other guard shouting for help. Shining shook his head again.

“Are you alright, Sir?” The guard asked, his voice muffled slightly from Shining Armor’s perspective.

“I will be,” Shining grumbled as he got to his hooves. “What in Equestria was that?”

“I have no idea, Sir,” the guard said. “But whatever that thing was, it took off toward the main corridors.”

“Notify the rest of the Guard,” Shining ordered, pressing a hoof to the side of his head in a feeble attempt to drive off his rapidly developing headache. “Tell them to be on the lookout for the creature. And get a detail stationed outside of Prince Blueblood’s chambers, and keep the brat in his room. Then, meet me outside of Princess Cadance’s bedchambers with another pegasus and unicorn. Understood?”

The Pegasus gave the Captain a swift salute. “Crystal, Sir,” he said before flaring his wings and taking off down the hall.

Shining winced as the air moved by the pegasus’ wings slapped against his face, only serving to make his rapidly growing headache worse.

But he didn’t have time to worry about his headache. The alien he and Cadance had brought back to the castle was on the move, and was wielding some kind of potentially dangerous magic. The other guards would be more than capable of handling the staff that lived in the castle while they searched for the alien. He had to make sure that Cadance would be alright.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, Shining Armor took off down the hall at a full gallop.





Starbrought





“Um... Nighty, what does the training manual say to do when an alien wants to talk to us? Because I’ve never read anything about it. Truthfully, I’ve never read the damn thing at all.” Griff said nervously, trying to joke about the situation at hand, but failing to.  It was not everyday you had an alien that you knew nothing about wake up on your back, and then poke you in the forehead and talk. 

“Shut up Private Griff, and let me handle this. You just stand still and make sure it doesn't fall off your back. I have a feeling that it can’t exactly walk on clouds.” Night cautioned as he walked over to where the creature was laying on Griff's back. He too was slightly nervous at talking with it, for they had sort of knocked it out. Something that no creature enjoyed. 

He took off the massive gold and black helmet that guarded his head and held it in his right talon, before opening his beak to attempt to communicate with it.

“My name is Captain Night Skies of the Imperial Gryphon Guard. Can you understand me?” Night said clearly and slowly, making the corresponding movements with his talons that his training had taught him to do with strange creatures. He paused, waiting for a response of some kind. The creature stared at him, looking slightly confused at the whole show that was happening around him.

“Do. You. Understand. Me?” Night repeated, this time much more slower, trying his best to make it as clear as it could possibly be. The creature blinked once again, before moving his hand and poking Night in the same spot and manner as Griff had been. 

“Argh... This is going nowhere. Perhaps we should try—” He was paused by a massive rumble of thunder booming to life quite close to their position, making its presence known. The creature suddenly seized back up, a wild look appearing in its eyes.

“Whoa whoa whoa, calm down there buddy. That’s just thunder. It ain't gonna harm ya,” Griff spoke up to the surprise of Night, trying to calm the poor thing down. Another boom of thunder echoed around the darkening sky, this time slightly louder and much closer to their current position. The creature tensed up again, the fear in it’s face clearly evident and visible. 

“Nighty. With all due respect, we should really get this thing out of here. I have not seen something this scared of a little bit of lighting since my little cousin,” Griff stated, this time speaking far more sternly than Night had ever heard come from the Griffon before. He may act like an idiot most of the time, but he knew when it was time to stop and leave. And this was one of them.

“As much as it pains me to say this, you are actually right about something for once Private. Everyone, prepare to move out in flight pattern Delta-Three. Now, what are we going to do about—” He paused as Griff hit the alien right in the jaw with his helmet, knocking the close-to-panicked creature out like a candle in the wind.

“Private, what in the name of Tartarus are you doing?!” Night choked out as he turned to Griff in shock of what he had just witnessed.

“Why the hell are you looking at me like that? We need to get a move on and I highly doubt that this thing would voluntarily come with us, so I chose the safe route and knocked it out. I think!” He gave a nervous glance at the now unconscious alien on his back, before relaxing. “Eeyup, it’s out like a light.”

Night facetaloned as he put his helmet back on, and taking to the sky again. “Let’s go Private; we got a storm to beat! We can worry about your punishment later!”

Griff’s heartbeat suddenly went into double time as he started at Night. “What do you mean by 'punishment?'” He managed to spit out as he carefully flew up, making sure that the alien didn't decide to suddenly take up skydiving. 

“You broke three of the five rules of conduct for the army, spoke back to your commanding officer, and assaulted an alien. You could be court martialed from the army, but the thing I have in mind is far, far better for both you and me.” Night said evilly as he turned around towards the now-sweating Griff, which for a griffin was considered a hard act to accomplish.

“Wait, the last thing has to be made up!” Griff choked out as he slowly caught up to the stopped griffin formation.

“You tell me. Now get your tail-feathers up here and let's move it. I don’t like how that storm looks, and so does our guest.” And with that, Night and Griff flew off to Altai. Unknown to them, their actions would change the fate of the world forever. For good or for bad though, is still and will always be unknown. 





Starbrought





“Come on,” Drake muttered under his breath. He slapped the small black box clutched in his hands. For a brief moment the active camouflage unit generated a light distortion field around him, effectively rendering him invisible to the naked eye. However, sharp, sudden, or quick movements on Drake’s part caused it to flicker and fade, causing the pirate captain to become partially visible.

“Work like you’re supposed to, damn it!” He smacked the box again, and this time, the field completely failed and vanished in a flash of golden light. Drake stared blankly at the camo-unit, his left eye twitching slightly. “You have got to be kidding me…”

As if that wasn’t enough, Fate chose that moment to intervene with her two cents worth. And when Fate’s a bitch, Fate’s a bitch. Drake barely had time to reconnect the now useless camo-unit to his coat when a pair of horn-headed guards rounded the corner and spotted him. 

They began shouting something in their native language, and their body language, while unfamiliar to the human, clearly stated that they were not going to be friendly.

Without hesitation, Drake drew his Reaper-class pistol from its holster and fired a three-round burst of bright green plasma bolts at the guards. Even though there was enough distance from Drake that the guards could easily avoid the shots, he wasn’t aiming to kill. After all, he was dealing with an alien race that his neural-implants couldn’t identify. The last thing he would want to do would be to cause another interplanetary war between humanity and whatever these things were.

Sure enough, the guards dove into cover behind a pair of pedestals, upon which sat a pair of faintly glowing crystal orbs. Drake spun on his heel and ran in the opposite direction of the guards.

’What wouldn't I give to have an extra flash-bang on me?’ Drake asked himself as he turned down a side hallway. ’Too bad I used the last one to escape those other guards.’

Though he knew it would only get him lost even further, Drake continued his pattern of turning down the nearest hallways to him whenever he came across one for nearly ten minutes. Oddly enough, he had yet to run across any more guards. Near as he could tell, he was currently in some kind of fortress (or castle if the excessive use of marble was any indication) overlooking a dimly lit cityscape. 

Drake paused as he passed a large window, overlooking a mountainside and a valley far below that seemed to stretch on for miles before meeting with the dark outline of a distant forest. About halfway across the valley were dozens of twinkling lights, the obvious signs of a nearby settlement.

However, the pirate wasn’t allowed to enjoy the view. The sound of armored steps against marble and two pairs of voices speaking in hushed tones reached his ears. Drake’s head whipped back and forth. He had no additional hallways to duck into. No doors to slip behind and no cover whatsoever down this hall, and the creatures that were trying to find him were now approaching from both directions.

Thinking quickly, Drake took his only escape route, and scrambled out of the open window. He spun as his legs met open air and grabbed hold of the windowsill as tightly as he could. He dangled there until the pain of holding on with his fingertips started to get to him. The worst part was, the two groups of guards were now standing by the open window, talking about something in their language.

When Drake finally lost his grip on the windowsill after hanging there for nearly three minutes, it wasn’t because of the throbbing pain in his fingers. Instead, it was because one of his neural-implants chose that moment to send him a signal that shocked him into letting go. 

“Language Identified.”

’Wait. What?’ Drake fell from the window ledge and didn’t even have time to cry out before his back slammed against a balcony on the floor below. He lay there for a few moments groaning in pain. The biofoam may have sealed his wounds, but the pain could still flare up.

Especially when one dropped a full story onto their back.               
                                              
As he laid on the balcony, his neural-implants relayed another message to him. “Local language confirmed as Galactic Basic.”

Drake quirked an eyebrow at that. Galactic Basic hadn’t been used in almost three hundred years. Once known as English, Galactic Basic had become nearly-obsolete shortly after humanity began to interact with the other intelligent life forms in the universe.

“Adjusting language settings to match local dialect.”

Drake let out a gasp of pain as an electrical charge from one of his implants coursed through his head. And just like flicking on a switch, the pirate discovered that he could actually understand the grumblings of the guards near the window he had used for his escape.

“—telling you, it went this way!” A distinctly male voice insisted.

“And we’re telling you that you’re seeing things again, kiddo,” a female voice added. “None of the rest of us saw anything.”

“Well, look here! Maybe it jumped out of the window,” the first voice said in a desperate tone. Drake rolled up onto his feet and quickly backed toward the doors leading from the balcony back inside the building. He didn’t want to risk having one of the guards look out and see him.

Fate seemed to be on his side at the moment. He tried the door handle and fortunately enough, it wasn’t locked. He wasted no time in slipping inside and closing the door behind him. Satisfied that he was in the clear, Drake turned to survey the room, and found himself face to face with one of the locals. Unlike the golden armored guards, this creature wore nothing more than a towel around its slightly damp head. Its coat was a shade of fuchsia and it had both a horn and a set of wings. 

The two of them stared at each other for a long while. The silence was almost deafening and the tension in the air could be cut by a knife. The creature seemed surprised to see Drake, and the pirate captain realized that he must seem as alien to it as it did to him. So, he naturally, if hesitantly, decided to break the ice.

“Umm. Take me to your leader?”





Starbrought




> Chapter Five - Translation Pending
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





Shamon was having a horrible day.

It at first seemed like such a simple endeavour: load up the delegates, prepare the wagon, and journey to the Pony Capital bearing gifts as a returning sign of good fate; all so very simple. In a matter of moments though, all that simplicity went skyward.

He gritted his teeth in anger as he swung his staff true, striking the flexible bamboo rod against the skull of a vicious Diamond Dog. The beast tumbled from the blow, before crashing snout-first into the unforgiving sand. In that brief moment, Shamon looked to his jamaa katika silaha, and froze in horror.

The other dogs had herded his kinship into a circle that was ever-so-slowly shrinking, one that he himself was quickly being led into. As the lower-ranked mutts sent him back, their leader stood off to the side smugly with paws crossed. That one had many names, but Shamon and his people had a specific one.

Mwanaharamu.

“Achilia sisi kwenda, mwanaharamu!” one of the Zebras shouted at the pack. The grin that had resided on the Alpha’s muzzle was sickening, and with it held enough ferocity for the grim truth to sink in.

He planned to kill them.

As Shamon was finally situated into the mass of his kin, Mwanaharamu raised one of its grotesque claws to its throat, and slowly dragged it across. The mutts nodded, and poised their spears to end his existence.

Before such a command could be issued however, a large shape rushed past their visions. Confused, they watched the crimson blur that seemed to shimmer in the sun’s light as it collided with one of the Diamond Dogs. Without pausing the two crumpled into the burning sand, before the interloper stood.

And as it stood, the others (both Zebra and Dog) backpedaled in fear. A heavy but slender blade was impaled through the soldier, and in one quick motion the bipedal being seized it in its grasp and readied it. A terse silence fell then as both sides examined the other.

Shamon was surprised at this interfering beast. It stood taller than the other Dogs, being as tall (if not taller) as Mwanaharamu. Alongside that, it bored a full set of armour. Its metallic shell glimmered, and the blood that slowly trickled down the sword in its possession sent shivers up his spine.

Nani huyo? Inaonekana kama bati kubwa unaweza, Shamon thought as he saw the... being raise its free claw to its neck. In one swift motion, it brought it slowly across its throat as it echoed out a slicing sound. With a hint of finality it pointed that claw back towards the Alpha, before it lowered itself in a stance that oozed combat experience.

Nothing moved then. As if time had been halted, not even the gales sought to traverse the forsaken landscape Shamon and his people called nyumbani. What they called their civilization, and their home.

And in an instant, it changed.

A hellish howl left Mwanaharamu as he charged the Interloper. Not a hint of hesitation graced the armoured warriors’ movement as it turned smoothly to the side. The blade swung around overhead, and made impact with the Dog’s shoulder. The Alpha tripped over itself in shock, which unleashed the entire pack upon him.

The kuingilia that the Interloper was providing amazed and befuddled Shamon as he and his jamaa katika silaha stood in their circle still. They watched in frozen astonishment as the battle continued with the beast taking their place in it. Quietly, one spoke to Shamon. “Je, sisi kusaidia?”

An amused smirk appeared on his face as he readied his staff once more. “Tunaweza.” His kinship nodded ecstatically in response as they poised themselves on the edge of the brawl. Diamond Dogs were being thrown and slashed about brutally, providing a cover for the Zebras to position themselves.

They struck swiftly.

Shamon swung his pole low, knocking out the knees of one of the armed Dogs. It crumpled unceremoniously on its back. Aggressively, it attempted to stab him from its inverted  position. Several thrusts were sent his way, but none made impact. Shamon readied his staff to bring it down upon the beast’s head, before the Interloper appeared in a mesmerizing vortex of the biped swinging its swords and stabbed the Dog in its chest. It seized moving immediately.

Shamon froze in confusion. Indeed, the Interloper had two slim swords now. Both bearing the same kisanaa design. He could’ve sworn that the bipedal being had only one blade to begin with, though...

Another shiver passed down his spine as the Interloper looked down at him. Shamon watched unmoving as the towering beast sheathed a sword and pulled something from his side. It held a similar shape to a boomerang, but shorter and narrower on both ends. Before Shamon could even consider questioning what it was doing, the Interloper aimed the item to its side and flexed one of its digits.

A blast of magical fire spewed forth, and impacted a Dog that was charging him. It tripped, rolled, and slid past the metal creature and towards his own hooves. Looking down, Shamon only saw a smouldering hole of blackened flesh where the impact was made. The Interloper gave a nod, and Shamon considered if there had been a smile behind its faceless helm as he charged again at Mwanaharamu.

By this point, all the Dogs had been slain thanks to the Interloper. Shamon’s kin achieved no kills, as their passive nature dictated. All that remained, was their bloodied and frenzied Alpha. The one who had saini ya wazimu; the heavy breaths that proved the crazed look in his eyes.

Mwanaharamu attempted to dodge the Interloper’s run, but was unable to. With a sonorous crash, the two bodies left the Earth for but a moment before slamming against a sand dune. During the combat, the parties gravitated away from the convoy and found themselves against a behemoth of a sand dune. Relentlessly, the Interloper landed blow after blow against the Alpha. Shamon noted that a single blade again was attached to his back as he stood over the Diamond Dog, its forearms bashing Mwanaharamu’s face again and again.

Finally, the Interloper drew his bent device again and aimed at the Alpha. Mwanaharamu responded with pulling the being’s legs out from under him, forcing his magical fire to miss its mark. The tables had turned; now the Interloper fought to get out from under one who had now past the point of no-return. The Diamond Dog had become a mad-claw; a wazimu makucha.




The Interloper fired his tool again at the chest of the Dog. This time, it had hit its intended target. The Alpha was launched off and backwards from the downed warrior. Crashing into the dune, Mwanaharamu died as slowly as he had slid back down.

Silence once more hung in the air. Adrenaline slowed its course through Shamon’s body, and his muscles began to lax. What replaced the frantic energy however, was a pregnant—and awkward—quiet. Zebras looked to one another in hesitance, unsure of how to approach their saviour.

With a sudden grunt, the answer was made for them.

The Interloper stood again, vaguely uneasy as the marks of battle settled upon it. With another grunt, the Interloper stalked over towards Mwanaharamu’s eyes, and with a surprisingly gentleness closed them. And finishing with a great heaving sigh of contentment, the Interloper faced Shamon and his jamaa katika silaha, killing tool still in his grasp.





Starbrought





Gryphon, the capital city of the Altai Dominion, the land that the Griffin Race made its home. It was a pretty amazing city, rivaling Canterlot in terms of beauty. But unlike Canterlot, which was one of most visited cities in the world by tourists, Altai was rarely visited by outsiders due to its frigid temperatures, which was cold for most races even on a good day.


The Altai Dominion was ruled by King Leo, who came from a long line of royalty. The people never really met the king. And that is probably why when sixty-year-old Griffin scientist Glass Wing heard a knock on the door to his lab and opened it up to see King Leo staring right at him, he decided that the floor was suddenly an appropriate place to faint.


“Why do they always do this? I mean, it’s not like I have a flaming sword pointed at their face when I politely knock on their door.” King Leo groaned as his guards picked up the unconscious Griffin and put him in a chair, trying to wake him. The guards tried shaking the old bird lightly, but to no use. Then they tried poking him, which failed again, before one of them finally lost their temper and slapped him across the beak.


“What in the name of Tartarus- King Leo! Wha- What do I owe this pleasure to? Did I do something wrong?” Glass stuttered out, his pupils dilated in shock. The guards moved away, before quietly high fiving each other in the background. 


“Relax Doctor Wing, we’re not here to kill you with a flaming sword. Quite the contrary, really...” Leo said with a slight laugh, having heard some of the rumors which nearly all involved him and a flaming sword.


“Oh...Good, then. What can I help you with, your Majesty?” Glass said, a little bit less nervous. Leo got up and walked over to the window, opening the shades expecting to see a beautiful view of Altai. But instead he found himself looking at a rather lovely view of the neighbors wall. He shut the blinds before returning to his seat, the movie-like moment he had been planning gone.

“My advisors have told me that you are a specialist in the field of odd creatures?” Leo asked, looking at Wing with a deadpan expression. 

“It is more of a hobby really, your Majesty!” He said nervously, forgetting the room they were in was covered in various pictures of mythical creatures, and research notes scattered about.

“A hobby? Well, since my advisors have told me that you are the best in the field, I need you to come with me at once.” Leo said in a stern, royal voice.

“Uh...I’m sorry, you need me?” He said, very confused at what he had just heard. ‘The king wants me? What the hell did I ever do?’

“Yes, I need you to collect whatever instruments or tools you wish and come with me right away. This is a matter of National Security, and I need you.” Leo said sternly, standing up and walking towards the scared looking Glass. The guards had returned from the kitchen, and were now standing behind Glass, trying but failing to look intimidating with a thing of bread and lettuce on each of their beaks. 

“Can you at least tell me what I am doing before you take me?” Glass said, slowly getting out of the chair and walking towards his notes, the guards and the king close in tow.

“I’ll explain more when we get there, but not now. The walls have ears and all. Now, I am going to ask you again to please gather your supplies and prepare to leave.” And with that, Leo turned around and walked out the door, where the two guards by the doors escorting him outside. Glass and the two other guards looked at each other awkwardly, not sure where to go from there.

“Could you two possibly help me carry some of the tools?” Glass said, having mentally given up as he began to think of what the the hell he could possibly need for whatever he had just been forced to agree too. The two guards looked at each other, before deciding to be nice to Griffin.

“Yeah, we’ll help you. But hurry it up; we don’t have all day!”

Glass grumbled a bit, before beginning to think of what he could possibly need. 




A short time later...




“Careful there boys. More to the right... Little bit more to the left... And, drop it!” Glass said, guiding the two guards on where to put the last box of tools into the chariot Leo had brought. Glass had no idea what to bring, so he naturally did what anyone would do in this situation.

He brought everything and anything that could be carried or put on wheels. And the guards were not too happy about it.

“Are you finally done?” One of them said, sweat on his face.

“For now, sorry for taking up your time Your Majesty.” Glass apologized climbing up into the back of the chariot where his tools were, making mentally sure he had not forgotten something. Leo, who had fallen asleep in boredom, woke back up and wiped his eyes while yawning.

“No problem, I think. Now come on, we don’t have all day here.” Leo said, stretching his wings. The Griffins tasked with pulling the Chariot looked helplessly at the massive pile of stuff, before sighing and preparing themselves for the pain that was going to happen. They gulped, before slowly beginning to hover up, struggling to gain any altitude.  

“Oh come on guys, it ain’t that heavy! Move move move!” Leo said in a loud voice, drawing some grunts by Griffins trying to pull the behemoth cart. They finally got the cart moving, a bit slower than a slug, but still moving all in all. 

Now to see if they could keep it up without crashing into too many things...





Starbrought







Only the wild howling of the wind made an audible impression on the desolate expanse of swirling sand which constructed the confines that was the Zebrican Desert. Standing in one of the forlorn valleys were three varying factors that defined it from the rest of the dunes; a caravan of Zebras, an utter massacre of Diamond Dog corpses, and a metal-clad biped with two very intimidating blades.

And that metal-clad biped, was Slayer.

His eyes slowly examined the faces of the Zebra caravan under his mask, moving his body as little as possible to reduce the risk of a stampede. He had gotten through the simple, easy part. Now he had to go through the hard part; negotiations.

Slayer’s mouth widened slightly, before his lips shut themselves. ‘Can they even understand Galactic Standard?’ he wondered. ‘Their words shared amongst one another were foreign. Obviously. Then again, the potential of that being the native language for them exclusively is a possibility...’ 

As his thoughts quickly attempted to process an appropriate course of action, the caravan dispersed some of its rear members to attend to the wounded. The leader (if the tribal staff was anything to go by) remained front-and-center, standing between the ‘Cerebral Assassin’ and its kin.

Some unsure and tense moments passed before the lead Zebra raised a hoof tentatively. “Jinsi gani unaweza kufanya, chuma kiumbe?”

Raising a hand in return, Slayer waved a greeting in the following silence. “Do you, by chance, happen to understand me?” Several moments passed in quiet, as the Zebras stared on blankly. With a suppressed groan, he rolled his eyes. ‘Great. I get the species that doesn’t speak Galactic Standard. Of course it just had to happen while the Suit’s drained, so the translation software can’t be activated...’ 

The head Zebra looked about in surprise to his fellow herd, before returning his attention to Slayer. One of its members whispered words into its ear, in which it nodded and offered a bow. “Tunashukuru kwa msaada wako. Tafadhali, kuchukua chakula kama shukrani.”

Slayer, a man who rarely was flummoxed by things, could only tilt his head in utter confusion. From what he could gather from body movement, the Zebra was thanking him. An obvious reaction given the thrashing Slayer hand-delivered to the bipedal hounds, but still one he hadn’t expected in this particular situation.

“Er, no problem,” the hunter retorted with a nod. Slayer watched guardedly as the leader motioned to his compatriots with a command, before they made their way to the covered wagon itself. His eyes widened in alarm; he had nearly forgotten why he interfered in the first place.

A careful watch was made by the hitman during the duration of their walk. Though instead of bringing about any form of humanoid, the duo of Zebras instead brought a bundle. Very carefully they offered the tightly-wrapped item to Slayer, which he took courteously.

Slayer unwrapped slowly. One reason so to not disrespect them (last thing he needed was making another native species hate him), and the other was that he had no clue that he could possibly be unveiling a trap.

Luckily for him, it was just food.

At least, it looked like food.

‘I don’t think eating unfamiliar berries is a good idea,’ Slayer considered to himself as he gave a nod of thanks. Unfortunately, the thought of food combined with the thought of lack of food. The result was a rather loud gurgling noise from his stomach, which had the Zebras staring blankly in fear. The assassin could only blanch under his helm. ‘...Goddamnit.’’

Diligently, he plucked one of the bright-red diamond-shaped fruits and unlatched his mouth-guard. With little fanfare it slid away, allowing Slayer to carefully take a bite. He really hoped it wasn’t laced with sedatives. That would just suck.

...

‘...Huh. Kinda tastes like a strawberry. Hmm.’ He allowed himself a moment to savour the flavour in the silence. ‘Plus, I don’t appear to be dead or fading into unconsciousness. Good signs...’

“I thank you for the gift,” Slayer said sincerely. Despite the language-barrier, the sentiment was not lost to the Zebras as they nodded happily with smiles adorning their striped muzzles.

Once more, the Zebras conversed with one another in muffled whispers. Slayer could care slightly less about that, seeing as how he had a gift to eat. While his thoughts were preoccupied on a variant of a kumquat, Shamon was thinking rapidly.

‘Tufanye nini na mnyama chuma hii? Kuondoka katika mchanga? Ni ametuokoa. Pengine tunapaswa kusherehekea,’ he thought. He whispered his idea to his kin, to see what they had to say about the matter.

Most had seemed more than willing to allow him into their kao, but some seemed hesitant. Despite the aid the Interloper had brought, they could not verbally communicate with it. The metallic being could speak though, if its pitched sounds were anything to go by.

Shamon deliberated further within the sanctum of his thoughts. ‘Pengine ni anaongea lugha ya farasi. Tunahitaji kuleta Zecora. Pengine anaweza kuzungumza lugha ya farasi.’ His eyes trailed to the Interloper gladly accepting his offering with vigor. ‘Kama itakuwa kusikiliza...’


The Zebra then considered something. For many generations, the almasi mbwa had been a blight upon Shamon’s kin. Their barbaric natures and gruesome appearances only amplified the disdain he felt when thinking of individuals like Mwanaharamu.


Obviously, the Interloper had no fond feelings nor love for the Dogs. Perhaps through communications, Shamon could enlist the aid of both the armoured being and its allies... if it had any.

The Chieftain of the Zebrican Tribes froze.

Just what exactly was the Interloper? Shamon’s mind sprung towards the notion of the biped being one of the Minotaur. They shared similar stature and brutish ways of combat. Yet somehow he quickly rejected the concept. The Interloper did not seem like anything Shamon had ever encountered before in his entire span of life.

One way or another, he would find out in time.

Without hesitation, Shamon motioned over one of his jamaa and whispered into their ear. “Sisi lazima kuleta Interloper yetu Equestria.  Labda wao itabidi kujua nini cha kufanya.” In response, Shamon was given a nod of approval.

“Tunapaswa kuweka yeye katika gari,” one of his Zebrican sisters muttered. Their attention went back towards the Interloper, nearly forgetting he (for in hindsight, there was little doubt it was a female) was still standing amongst them.

Thankfully, the Interloper had not disappeared nor gone into a bloodlust. In fact, it seemed quite content to continue consuming the gift Shamon had bequeathed to him. If it hadn’t been obvious already that the biped was starving, it was at that point.

Speaking of the biped, Slayer was very close to finishing his brunch he had missed out on. With nothing comprehensible leaving the lips of the natives, the only thing he really had to focus on was the food.

It was very good to him at that moment, by the way.

‘Not killing the Zebras was totally worth it,’ he thought to himself. Slayer paused, and looked up. Like his senses were telling him, he was being watched. By the entire caravan, no less. He swallowed the rest of his gift, and gave a deep nod of his head. “The food was delicious, and appreciated.”

Despite the current language barrier, the message was still able to get through. Off-handedly Slayer began noticing with some minor unease that they were eyeing his katanas and Sabres with particular intrigue. He only saw that kind of look in two situations: either the Zebras were planning to mug him, or they wanted him to use his weapons again to help them.

He didn’t know which option was worse.

Once more, the Zebras huddled around one another to discuss topics that were certainly about him. Slayer was quite frankly annoyed. There was very useful information that was no doubt being lost because of his exhaustion.

Remembering that issue, Slayer discreetly brought up the energy supply for him to examine.

>Solaris Suit is at: 15%.

“Tunataka kusherehekea katika kambi yetu,” Slayer’s focus locked onto the head of the caravan motioning towards the wagon. Somehow in the span of five seconds that it took him to check his power level, the Zebras had hooked themselves back to the cart and brought it around to Slayer.

Now he was really starting to feel uneasy. “Kuja,” the Zebra said again calmly, using slight and slow movements. Slayer knew the ball was really in his court. If they attempted to place him into the cart by force, he could easily eliminate them.

Thoughts ran rampantly through Slayer’s mind. ‘If I join these Zebra, it would mean potentially being led off the trail of Drake. And if I lose the direction, then I doubt I’d be able to find him ever again...’



‘Then again, this could be very advantageous,’ Slayer thought as he carefully approached the end of the wooden construct. ‘I could potentially be led instead to their settlement. Get supplies, directions, and maybe even information on rogue Zebras in case they took Drake. If not, then there’s always the hope that they have Drake.’



A decisive nod was given to himself as Slayer climbed in and watched as the rear door closed. ‘One way or another, these Zebra will led me to Drake. Whether they’d like to, or know it is irrelevant.’ As the caravan began moving once more, a single thought found its way into Slayer’s mind. And it remained there for the duration of the trip in the silence.

‘Don’t you worry, Drake. Slayer’s coming to save your ass... again.’







Starbrought







Shining Armor had seen some very strange things in his time as a guard. The most notable of which involved an ‘evil’ scientist who created a deadly virus that, instead of being deadly, cured three different diseases. But the scene unfolding in front of him easily took the cake.
 
When one of the other guards had come running up to him, informing him that shouting could be heard coming from Cadance’s chambers, Shining Armor had immediately rushed to her aid (which led to him now had a nagging suspicion that he had broken several land speed records amongst the guard).
 
What he hadn’t expected, was to find Cadance pacing back and forth in her room while in a heated argument with the alien. An argument about what the language they were speaking was called, of all things.
 
“For the last time, it’s not ‘Equestrian’! It’s ‘Galactic Basic’!”
 
“It’s ‘Equestrian’ here, buster! We’re not part of your galactic empire!”
 
“I’m not even part of the Empire! And the Empire only makes up about a third of our civilization!”
 
“Well good for you! But as long as you’re here, you should show some respect! You’re a guest on our planet, so act like one!”
 
“I’m not a guest! I’m shipwrecked! There’s a difference!”
 
“You are not shipwrecked! If you were shipwrecked, you would be marooned in an uninhabited area. Clearly, that is not the case here!”
 
“My ship crashed into your planet! It probably can’t even break atmosphere right now! I’d call that ‘shipwrecked’!”

“Okay, fine! You’re ‘shipwrecked’! But since you’re stranded here until your ship is repaired, that makes you a guest, buster!”
 
“Then I guess we’re both right!”
 
“Yes, we are!” Cadance grinned triumphantly and finally stopped her pacing. “Now that that’s settled, may I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, my throat was getting parched from all of that shouting.” The alien’s aggressive posture relaxed as he dropped himself onto one of the sofas in the center of Cadance’s chambers. “What sorts of drinks do you have?”

Shining Armor was surprised that the sound of his brain breaking couldn’t be heard by the others. It wasn’t that hard to understand either. For starters, Cadance, one of the nicest and most polite ponies he had ever met in his entire life, had just been engaged in a shouting match with somepony. She never even raised her voice when situations had called for it before.

Secondly, she had been arguing with an alien. A being from space that crash landed on their planet. It was like the plot to a bad science fiction novel. They had no idea if the alien meant them harm, or why he was here, or even what the circumstances surrounding his crash had been. For all they knew, he was a vanguard of their destruction. And yet, there he was, casually accepting an offer of a drink.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, both of them were so absorbed in their interactions with one another, that neither had even noticed him yet.

“We have many things to drink here, hopefully something you can have,” Cadance placed a hoof thoughtfully to her chin as she considered the options. “Water, perhaps?”

“I couldn’t survive without it,” the alien replied with a smile. “Do you have tea?”

“Of course. Tea is a staple beverage here in Canterlot.” Cadance gestured toward a tea set resting on a short cabinet in the room’s corner for emphasis. “Can you have milk?”

“Depends on what kind of milk we’re talking about here.”

“The kind that comes from cows.”

Shining’s left eyelid twitched.

“And, just to make sure my translator isn’t glitching on me, you mean the cows that go ‘moo’, right?”

“What other kinds of cows would there be?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Shining Armor slammed his left forehoof as hard as he could against the marble flooring, causing the others to jump in surprise.

The alien shot Cadance a confused look and pointed questioningly at Shining Armor. “Has he been here the whole time?”

“What is going here?” the guardspony demanded. “Cadance, he’s dangerous!”

“Because he’s yelling at me?” The princess replied with a sigh. “Anypony can yell, Shining. It doesn’t mean they’re dangerous.”

“He attacked several members of the guard and the doctor! We need to detain him!”

“That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” The alien pointed out. “How would you react if you woke up in an unfamiliar place, under an armed guard and surrounded by medical equipment? Can you really blame me?”

“You attacked the royal guard and now I find you in the princess’ chambers!” Shining growled. “So yes, I can blame you. There isn’t exactly a policy on how to deal with extraterrestrials.” 

“Then don’t do anything,” the alien said with a shrug. Shining was taken aback. 

“Huh?”

“Don’t do anything.” The alien kept his eyes firmly locked on the guardspony. “You said that your government doesn’t have any real rules to handle otherworlders. So don’t do anything.”

“You attacked the royal guard,” Shining repeated. “That’s a criminal offense.”

“In your culture. How do you know that it isn’t my cultures’ way of saying ‘hello’? Would you really risk a diplomatic or even an intergalactic incident over a misunderstanding?”

“Is that how you say ‘hello’?”

“That’s not really the point, you know.”




Starbrought





The entire platoon froze in shock. There was a creature, staring at them, who had just talked in another language.

“Let’s not panic, let’s not panic.”  Night Skies said, a slight bit of panic in his voice.

This was not in the job description. Which is why one of them panicked, got out his sword, and slammed the flat part of the blade onto its head, knocking it out.

“Or you can panic.” Night Skies said as the creature fell unconscious, a very confused Grif holding it up. The platoon looked at the Griffin who had just knocked it out, who feeling really awkward as he slowly flew back over to the group and sat down.  Silence fell on the group, before Night Skies spoke.

“What, in the name of Leo, was that?” He said, disbelief in his voice. The Griffin who committed the crime just looked around, not sure how to respond.

“I believe he panicked, Captain.” Grif said smugly, momentarily forgetting the now knocked out creature on his back.

“You don’t say? Well... At least he made the job of bringing that thing back with us a bit easier. So, good job Black Beak!” Night Skies said, patting the very confused Griffin on his back. 

“You're kidding me right? I carry this damn thing here, only try to take a light nap and nearly get killed. He knocks the thing out, and might get a freakin promotion.” Griff thought to himself, seriously planning on where he could hide a body.  His thoughts of lovely murder were broken up by Night Skies yelling.

“Private Griff! Snap out of La La Land and get moving. You’re already behind the pack.” Night Skies pointed his wing at the rest of the platoon, who had stopped their break and were now flying off towards Altai.  Griff moaned a bit, before slowly taking off, trying to make sure that the thing on his back didn’t fall off.

This was going to be a long flight...





Starbrought





        Drake had been in some very strange situations during the years he’d been living as a pirate. One of the most interesting of which was a night he spent with the Duchess of Miranda, one of the wealthiest and happiest planets in the Scutum–Centaurus Arm of the galaxy. In the course of one night, he robbed her of several prized artifacts, wiped clean her family accounts, poisoned her husband with a unique hallucinogen that led him to believe he was a turnip doomed to be in a side salad, crashed his transport during his getaway, crashed a second transport during his getaway, and ultimately rode away on her prized Sharna (a native bird to Miranda that were often valued as prized steeds during the planet’s settlements).

But having tea with a pony princess and one of her royal guards? In the Captain’s book, that took the cake.

An awkward silence filled the room as the three of them sipped their tea. Drake and the guard pony were seated on a two-seat sofa opposite of the Princess, who kept a close eye on the two males. 

“So, what do we call you?” Drake looked up from his cup as the Princess spoke. “We can’t keep calling you ‘you’ or ‘mister’.”
 
“I’ve got a few names I’d like to call him,” the guard pony next to him grumbled into his tea. Drake smirked.
 
“I like this guy!” He said with a laugh. Shining nearly choked on his tea as Drake draped an arm across the back of his neck. “He’s not afraid to speak his mind about me. I’d like him more if he didn’t want to clap me in irons and lock me in the dungeon, though.” The Captain took another sip of his tea. “The name’s Shields. Captain Drake Shields.”
 
“It’s very nice to meet you, Captain,” the princess said with a smile. “I am Princess Cadenza, but I’d prefer it if you call me Cadance.”
 
“Your Highness. I’ve met a couple of princesses in my time, you know. But never one who knew how to brew a cup of fine tea, let alone one who willingly did so herself.” Drake raised his cup in a silent toast to Cadance before turning to the guard sitting beside him. “And what do I call this stiff fellow?”
 
“Sergeant Shining Armor. Equestrian Royal Guard.” Shining set his tea down, the aura that had been surrounding the cup and saucer vanishing at the same time as the aura around his horn. “So show some respect.”
 
“I’ll show respect to those who show the same to me.” Drake smirked at the Sergeant and downed the rest of his tea.
 
“You said you were a Captain?” Cadance asked, breaking the two males’ attention from their rapidly growing dislike of one another. “Were you in a military?”
 
“Not a chance,” Drake laughed. “I’m a ship captain. Nothing even remotely close to military.”
 
“Yet you carry weapons,” Shining Armor noted. “You’ve got what looks like a saber strapped to your side, and you used some sort of explosive earlier when you were making your escape.”
 
“Observant.” Drake set his cup down. “Space isn’t very nice. There’s all sorts of mercenaries, pirates, thieves, slavers and corrupt government vessels that just can’t wait to ruin someone’s day. And my ship is a vessel designed for fast travel and decent maneuverability, perfect for transporting expensive cargo across worlds. I’ve gotta keep my cargo safe from those who’d take it from me before I get paid. Folks are willing to do just about anything outside the law to make some extra spending money.”
 
“That sounds awful,” Cadance noted. “Just what kind of society do you live in?”
 
“Calling it awful’s a little much, don’t you think?” Drake replied. “It’s not perfect life, but if you keep a calm head, it’s nothing worth worrying about. A perfect life for a man like me.”
 
“And what kind of man are you?” Shining asked.
 
Drake fixed him with a serious stare, no sparkle in his eye as he spoke, no hint of amusement he had been displaying throughout the evening.“I’m a man that values my freedom above almost anything else. By making my living sailing the sea that space truly is, I’m living my life on my terms. Nothing beats that.”
 
Shining Armor was momentarily stunned by the seriousness of Drake’s response. He tried and failed to come up with an appropriate response for a few moments before giving up. Instead, he settled for nodding stiffly at the Captain.
 
“Can I offer you another cup of tea?” Cadance gestured at Drake’s empty cup. He turned away from Shining, smug smile returning to his face as he did so.
 
“Thank you. I’d love another.” He watched with mild interest as a pale blue aura surrounded both the princess’ horn and the cup just as the cup was lifted into the air and over to the tea kettle near Cadance.
 
“So, can all ponies control a low level zero-point energy field?” Drake asked.
 
“I’m sorry?” Cadance gave the Captain a confused glance. “What do you mean by zero-point energy?” Drake pointed from the floating tea cup to Cadance’s horn.
 
“That glow. It’s a zero-point energy field, right? Allows you to move objects without touching them?”
 
“You mean telekinesis?” Shining Armor asked. “Only unicorns like me or an alicorn like Cadance can use it. It’s part of our natural magic?”
 
“Magic?” Drake repeated thoughtfully. “How curious.”
 
“How so?” Cadance asked, floating the now full cup back to Drake’s hands. “Don’t you have some sort of natural magic?”
 
“Not as far as I know. Some scientists in the Alliance might disagree with that, but they blame that on the fact that my species still doesn’t actively use their full brain power.” Drake paused to breathe on his tea, cooling it down slightly. “But I highly doubt they’re right. Still though, the fact that you use barely any energy to generate a zero-point field, and with such precise control is very interesting. I’ve seen some of the zero-point machines used in shipping ports to move large cargo crates. Those things use up almost as much energy as a small colony can in a week.”
 
“So, you come from this Alliance place, yes?” The princess asked. “What’s it like?”
 
“I’m not from the Alliance, and it isn’t a place. It’s kind of like a government that has jurisdiction over about a third or so of the galaxy,” Drake explained. “The other two thirds are controlled by the Empire and the Syndicate. Right now, all three groups are fighting over which one of them has the right to rule the galaxy.”
 
“Civil war.” Shining Armor shook his head. “That’s brutal. The minotaur had a civil war a few decades back. Ruined all of their farmlands and reduced their culture to little more than nomadic clans. Nobody wins in a civil war.”
 
“Nothing ‘civil’ about it either.” Drake stared into his cup. “I’ve seen entire planets burned and glassed in nuclear fire just because one side wouldn’t concede to the other.”
 
“What started the war?” Shining asked. “Who threw the first punch?”
 
“Nobody knows for sure,” Drake said with a shrug. “The Empire started aiming for a complete union of all planets under one regime: theirs. This didn’t sit well with many people far outside of the Empire’s territory. And as they started to grow in power, so did their military and their influence. Their laws were beginning to be adopted as galactic laws as several planets saw benefit to joining them.

“The planets and systems that wanted to remain free from Imperial control joined together and formed the Alliance. Then war broke out between the two sides. Minor stuff at first. The Alliance would send a small fleet of drone ships in to attack an Imperial patrol and capture their ships. The Empire would retaliate by seizing cities and planets. Back and forth. Back and forth.
 
“The Syndicate formed about four or five years after the Alliance started expanding its borders. Mostly based out of the more unruly and backwater planets, where thugs and thieves and bounty hunters thrive. They saw a chance to take the galaxy for themselves and shape it to fit their desires, so they openly opposed the Empire and the Alliance once they had a decent sized force of people backing them.
 
“It’s been a three way tie ever since. The Empire has the largest population, the Syndicate has the greatest military strength, and the Alliance has the best technology. That about sums up society where I come from.” Drake raised his cup of tea to his lips once more and allowed the alien company he was in to soak up the information he had given them.
 
“You seem awfully willing to just tell us about your society,” the guardspony beside him noted. “If I was in your position, I wouldn’t be telling the aliens I was around about my society. How do you know you can trust us?”
 
“I don’t,” Drake replied simply. “But I simply don’t care.”
 
“Huh?” Both ponies looked mildly surprised at Drake’s indifference.
 
“I don’t care,” the Captain repeated. “Do what you will with this information. Use it to create a database detailing information on the galaxy. Use it to plan a war against my species. Use it to plan the best places to establish trade routes. Ultimately, I don’t care.”
 
“That’s a rather strange attitude to have about your own people,” Cadance said. “Don’t you care about them?”
 
“I only care about anyone who’s either neutral in the civil war or being forced to serve one of the three governments. Anyone who’s willingly on one side or another doesn’t matter to me.” Drake’s tone was harsher than it had been. “I’ve no love lost for the Empire or the Syndicate. And I’ll cry for joy on the day when the Alliance burns in the deepest circle of hell while I dance on their graves.”
 
Cadance looked at the Captain sadly. “The Alliance did something to you, didn’t they?”  It wasn’t a question, but an observation.
 
“Not just me.” Drake’s hands were beginning to shake, forcing him to set his cup down for fear of spilling his tea on Cadance’s pristine floor. “The Alliance is made up of mostly technology research planets. They have the smallest population out of all three sides of the war, but they make up for it with their ‘toys’. Early on when they first started rebelling against the Empire, the Alliance began offering neutral planets the chance to join their side. Any planet that refused was forced to anyway, only their populations were enslaved and forced to help with the production of the automatons the Alliance uses as their main fighting force.
 
“My homeworld of Adrestia was enslaved about twenty years ago, right around the time when I reached adulthood. I’ve watched people I’ve grown up with be punished and executed for openly defying the Alliance.” Drake clenched his fists tightly. “I escaped about four years ago. Stole a prototype stealth ship they had been developing near the planet’s capital and fled to the sky, because that’s the only place they couldn’t control me. “They take and take from us until we have nothing left. But they could never take the sky.””
 
Silence filled the room again as Drake leaned back against the sofa. Cadance and Shining Armor looked on with looks mixed with pity and sadness at the Captain’s story. Drake paid their expressions no heed, instead reaching under his shirt and pulling out a silver-chained necklace he had kept concealed underneath. Dangling off of the chain was a four-leaf clover, perfectly preserved within a piece of clear cut crystal. To the left of the crystal dangled a pair of golden rings, one with a diamond set into it, one without. To the right dangled another ring. One of bronze and with two rubies flanking a sapphire set into the band.
 
Shining’s eyes went wide for a fraction of a second as he caught sight of the third ring. Then he fixed the Captain with a rather pointed glare, an action that did not go unnoticed by Cadance.
 
“Shining? What’s wrong?” She asked.
 
“That ring on his necklace, the bronze one, I’ve seen it before.” That caught Drake’s attention. Shining Armor pointed a hoof at the ring in question. “That’s the Platinum Heirloom. It’s one of the few things Princess Platinum brought with her from the old kingdom when Equestria was founded. It’s supposed to be on display down on the second floor outside of the throne room. So why is it dangling from your neck?”
 
Drake looked down at the necklace for a moment or so, before he gave the sergeant the cheekiest grin he could manage. “Would you believe me if I said that it was there when I got my stuff back from you guards?” Shining’s answer came in the form of a deadpan stare. “Eh. It was worth a shot.”
 
“So, you’re just a thief then?” Shining Armor was on his hooves, his horn alight with a magenta aura. “I’ve never met any cargo shippers that steal from others.”
 
“Clearly you haven’t met many cargo shippers,” Drake quipped, tucking his necklace back inside his shirt as he rose to his feet. “Not that I’d call myself a traditional cargo shipper, mind you. I prefer to think of myself as a man on the account.”
 
“So you’re actually just a pirate?” Cadance said calmly. “Isn’t ‘on the account’ a fancy way of saying ‘I’m a pirate’, Captain?”
 
Drake shot her a satisfied smirk. “Nice catch. And even more proof that you ponies have more in common with humans like me than what I’ve observed so far.” Shining Armor lowered his horn and aimed it at the center of Drake’s chest. “And while I’d love to stay and chat with you more about it, it’s clear I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
 
“That’s an understatement,” Shining Armor said. “Drake Shields, by the rights given to me as a royal guard, I hereby place you under arrest for the crimes of assault, resisting capture, assaulting a royal guard, breaking and entering, and theft. You have the right to remain silent and I pray to the gods you exercise it.”
 
Drake let out a long winded sigh. “Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not going to happen. I’ve spent enough time locked up in various prisons. I have no intention of letting you drag me into one.” In one swift movement, Drake brought his leg up and sent the coffee table between the two sofas crashing onto its side. Cups of still warm tea were flung across the room. A magenta shaded shield of pure energy erected itself in front of Shining Armor, protecting him from the projectile tea cups.

While the sergeant was distracted, Drake drew his energy saber and activated it. The snap-hiss of the blade coming to life filled the room and bathed the pirate in a pale blue light. In his free hand, Drake produced his pistol, which he aimed in Cadance’s direction. “Sorry, your Highness, but I can’t be too careful. Your loyal guard here needs incentive to not follow me out of this room.”

The Captain backed slowly away from the two ponies and toward the double doors leading out of Cadance’s room and back into the castle. The two ponies watched his every move carefully, much like a pair of hawks. “The doors, Mister Armor, if you please.” Drake smiled warmly at Shining, who glared in response but complied with his orders.

Drake’s grin grew wider as he heard the sound of a lock being magically undone, followed by the creak of the doors as they swung open behind him. “That’s my cue. Thanks for the tea, your Highness. It did wonders for my thirst. Sarge, have fun explaining this one to your superiors.” 

Laughing, Drake spun on his heel and immediately found himself face to face with the occupants of the hallway beyond Cadance’s door.

Twenty or so unicorn guards were lined up at regular intervals, their horns all ablaze with a uniform green light. At least a dozen pegasi guards hovered in the air above their horned counterparts, each armed with what appeared to be weighted nets.

The guards all fired their magic at Drake as soon as he was in sight, barely giving the pirate time to groan in annoyance.




Starbrought






“Good Private! Now lower that one into that corner, and make sure not to drop it that hard.” Glass Wing stated, watching in amusement as he directed three Imperial Guard privates on where to put some of his objects that he had brought to this...place.

When he had left his lab to go investigate whatever King Leo wanted him to do, he had thought that they were going to go to the palace. But when the chariot turned a hard right and went into the main military base that protected the Capital, Wing was very confused.

“Your Majesty, if I may ask, why are we going into this place?” Wing asked, looking at the checkpoint approaching them. Leo laughed a bit, before turning towards him.

“Because for what you are going to be working on Doctor Wing, we thought this would be more... appropriate.” He said, pausing as he considered the proper term. Wing, even more confused, decided not to ask any questions as the they reached the checkpoint, before being cleared and allowed into the base. 

The chariot landed outside of a large, unmarked structure. Leo motioned him to step out, as the guards designated to carry the mass of supplies finally got a breather, and it took quite a lot of willpower not to go and fall over in exhaustion. 

“If you would follow me inside, Doctor. Your... tools will be brought down in a moment.” Leo said, chuckling a bit as one of the guards collapsed in exhaustion, the other one nearing it. He turned his attention back to the door that led to the inside of the building, where two of his personal guard flew over and opened it. 

Doctor Wing was expecting to see some small, little cubicles with small labs inside of them, but instead it was just a long hallway with lights built into the top of it. He did not see any more windows, just a long hallway stretching deep into a mountain.

“If you would follow me please Doctor, the lights will still be here.” Leo said, walking down the tunnel with his two guards behind him. Doctor Wing joined him, and after walking for what felt like a mile they reached another, bigger door. Unlike the other door, this one had no handles, but only a small pad on the side of it.

“If you would please move away for a second, Doctor,” Leo explained, taking his paw and putting it onto a the pad. After a brief second, a small ding was heard and the massive door slowly opened up, revealing a brightly lit room. Leo motioned for him to go through the door, which he did rather hesitantly. 

The room he had been brought into was in sharp contrast to the old, dirty hallway he had come from. This room was well lit, clean as a whistle, and new looking. There were other vaulted doors on one side of the room, with what looked like an unoccupied security checkpoint on the other side. It was very impressive, but also very cryptic for the Doctor.

“And this is where you will be working. The chariot should be arriving any moment from the back deck, which is that way.” The King pointed his claw to a hallway with a much bigger door, enough for objects of considerable size to pass through. A few seconds later, a bunch of Griffins pushed in Wing’s tools, off of the chariot and onto several massive carts. 

“Now, I have an important meeting to go to. Something about Minotaurs and other stuff like that. Doctor Feather will introduce herself in a moment. Good day, and good luck Doctor Wing.” Leo said, walking out of the door, his two guards in tow. The door shut, leaving him to his thoughts on where the hell he was. He was stopped by him noticing another Griffin was coming this way, but this one was dressed differently than the guards. She had on a white lab coat, and had a clipboard in her right talon.

“You must be Doctor Wing.” She said, offering her talon to shake, which Wing hesitantly accepted. “I’ve heard a lot about you, hopefully you will live up to my expectation.” She said rather coldly, before looking back at the behemoth of stuff the guards (even on the carts) were having a hard time pushing.

“And you are?” Wing said, feeling rather annoyed at the Griffin already. She turned back around, before clearing her throat and answering.

“My name is Doctor Gilded Feather, and I will be working with you on this... project, whatever it is.” She said, sounding rather annoyed at not knowing what the project was.

“You don’t know what we’re doing either?” Wing said, sounding rather surprised and glad that someone else was in the same boat as he was.

“No, his Majesty likes to... surprise me, and apparently now you. This would explain the massive amount of equipment you brought.” She stated, looking at her clipboard again.

“Yeah... I really didn't know what I was going to—” Wing said rather awkwardly, before getting interrupted by Feather.

“I can assure you, from looking over your equipment, I—er, we will only be needing some of it. The rest will be put back into storage until our assignment—whatever it may be—is over. Now if you'll excuse me Doctor Wing, I have to go make sure that the correct equipment is sorted. Good day, and nice to meet you.” She said, walking over to the lead guard and began asking him some questions, leaving a very confused Wing in his wake, with even more questions than when he entered the place.

He walked over to one of the doors, trying to see if there was any form of identification to try to figure out where he was, but to no avail.  He felt the sensation of someone tapping him on the the back. He turned around to see three guards bearing the Imperial seal, a cartload of his stuff behind them.

“Doctor Wing instructed us to set these up in here, with you commanding us on where to put them.” The middle on said, point to the door behind him.

“...Alright. I will gladly tell you where to put them, but could you open the door first?” He asked, feeling rather stupid for an odd reason.

“That is what we were planning on doing. Could you please move out of the way so that we can open it for you?” The middle on asked again, in the same tone. Wing gladly moved aside, as the one of the guards grabbed a set of keys, and inserted it into a keyhole that Wing had failed to notice. He turned it with a sharp click, and pushed the door quickly open, before moving aside to let Wing inside.

The lights were already on, casting some shadows on the pieces of furniture inside the room. The room was about twenty four feet by twenty four feet, with several rows of tables and other lab equipment already inside. Plastic covers covered the instruments and tools, and the floor was remarkably clean.

The guards wheeled in the cart of tools, before asking Wing where he would like them to go. He took a quick survey on what they had, before realising they were all the notes he had on strange creatures he had seen and studied over the years.

“Just stack them on the tables please.” He said, his mind deep in thought of why his notes were the only things of his that had been brought in, before remembering that the rest of his tools were just tools, and fairly outdated ones at that.

This place was just getting more and more confusing by the minute, and he was beginning to regret coming with the King, even though he had no choice.

And this was only the start of the chaos that was going to occur. 





Starbrought





> Chapter Six - Complications
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





Shining Armor stared nervously around at his commanding officers’ office. He had only been in here twice before; once when he had first been stationed in Canterlot Castle, the other when he had been assigned to Cadance’s convoy.

One of the walls was decorated with an assortment of medals, commendations and accolades, all detailing the numerous heroic acts of valor, honor, and justice the Captain of the Royal Guard had achieved in his twenty years in the service. Shining Armor couldn’t help but notice that the Captain had even earned an Emerald Blade, the highest of commendations that one could only earn by defending the whole of Equestria from certain peril.

Aside from that, the room was very spartan. A pair of fully stocked bookshelves rested in the back of the room, just by the large window that overlooked the training grounds for the Guard. A simple oak desk sat in front of the shelves, decorated only by a few loose sheets of paper, a bottle of ink and a large phoenix feather quill.

All of the decorations in the office were put to shame, however, by the rather large Earth Pony sitting behind the oak desk. Captain Sturdy Wall was, to put it bluntly, a mountain of a pony. No muscle was wasted on, yet, he didn’t have the bulk most other muscle-centric stallions usually developed. His cobalt-colored coat had a faint sheen to it, showing off the exceptional care he clearly gave it, unlike most other stallions. His faded gray mane was cropped into a buzz cut, barely rising more than half an inch above his scalp.

Stone gray eyes moved slowly back and forth as Captain Wall read over the last of the reports regarding Cadance’s journey to the Zebrican capital, the discovery of the alien, and the resulting arrest of said alien. Shining Armor could’ve sworn he was visibly sweating as he stood in silence, waiting for his Commanding Officer to finish. It didn’t help that with every passing minute, Captain Wall’s expression grew more and more irritated.

When the Captain finally set down the final report and fixed Shining Armor with a stony gaze, Shining could’ve sworn he felt his lungs cease all activity, as though the very activity of breathing would offend the Captain. Neither of them spoke for several long moments. The Captain kept his gaze firmly on Shining Armor, greatly unnerving the sergeant.

“Three days.” The Captain’s gravelly-voice broke Shining from his stupor. “I’m gone for three days to visit my newborn granddaughter, and I return to all of these.” He gestured with a hoof at the half dozen reports he had piled in a small bin on the corner of his desk. “Princess Cadance set out to Zebrica to encourage trade routes, and instead she returns with an alien. From space. Explain, Sergeant.”

Shining Armor stood up a little straighter and hardened his expression. “Sir! The Princess and the majority of the 17th assigned to her protection all saw the alien’s ship crash-land in the desert. The Princess insisted on investigating the crash site where the alien was discovered, despite my insistence that she shouldn’t. The Princess took notice of the alien’s injuries and ordered us to return him to Canterlot so he could receive medical treatment. Sir!”

The Captain continued to stare at Shining Armor with his mildly-irritated, yet stony expression. “I won’t lie to you, Sergeant. I’m not happy.” He rose to his hooves and moved the reports from his desk to a small filing cabinet mostly hidden from plain view. “If Princess Cadance herself hadn’t shown me the alien and verified the story with her own account, I never would’ve believed a word of these reports. In fact, I’d have had you and your whole unit demoted and reassigned to patrolling the northern border for thinking such a stupid story would be believable.

“Nevertheless, what’s done is done. We should be thankful that the alien in question, this ‘Drake Shields’, is just a run of the mill pirate. If he had been a diplomat of some sort and we offended him… Well, I’m sure you’ve read a few pieces of science-fiction over the years. You can guess what might happen.”

“Yes, Sir.” Shining did his best to remain as stoically still as possible. He didn’t want to show signs of the immense relief he was feeling. Captain Wall wasn’t known for being the most lenient of ponies.

“We’ll need to start taking action in regards to the alien,” the Captain said decisively as he sat back down at his desk. “I need to inform Princess Celestia and Princess Luna about this situation immediately. For now, I’m re-assigning you and your unit. You’re in charge of guarding the alien since the lot of you have had the most dealings with it.” Shining Armor blinked in confusion. “We have to prevent any information leaks. How do you think the civilians would react if they knew we had an alien in custody? They already panic over the slightest disturbances. And what of the other nations? Who knows what they’d do? Your unit is the only unit that’s had any interaction with the alien thus far. I intend to keep it that way until either Princess Celestia or Princess Luna tells me otherwise. Am I clear, Sergeant?”

“Yes, Sir. Clear as crystal, Sir.”

“And Sergeant, I want you to complete another task if possible while you’re on this assignment.” Shining Armor gave his commanding officer a confused look. “I want you to see if you can convince this alien to share any of his civilization’s technologies with us.”

“I’m not sure he’d go for that, Sir,” Shining Armor said. “He might not be too talkative with my unit or myself since we’re the ones that captured him and locked him up, Sir.”

“I said ‘if possible’, Sergeant,” the Captain reminded him. “It may be a long shot, but from what I’ve gathered from the reports, he isn’t very fond of the governments in control of his civilization. He might be less inclined to keep their technology from us than another member of his species might be.”

“Understood, Sir.” Shining Armor saluted the Captain. “I’ll do what I can.”

Captain Wall nodded at the other stallion. “Dismissed, Sergeant.”






Starbrought





“You know, for a top secret government lab underneath a mountain, and inside a military base, you guys could have gotten some better chefs down here. Honestly, what exactly is in my sandwhich? Ants? Chicken?...Vegetables?” Doctor Wing said as he inspected his sandwich. 

Gilded Feather rolled her eyes. ”We don’t have chefs down here. Everything comes in boxed and frozen, even the sandwiches.” 

“And why exactly do they not have any chefs down here?”

“Simple. Less mouths, less ways for secrets to get out. We’re not the only ones down here you know.” Gilded said as she took a bite of her box salad riddled with a surplus of beef chunks.

“You know what? Probably good on my end not to ask exactly who else or what else is down here. So, what exactly do you think of our catch? I’ve never seen anything like him in all my years of cryptozoology, and that’s about thirty-five years of it.” 

“Honestly? I really don’t have any idea what it is. It may possibly be a Minotaur that had suffered some sort of genetic mutation, or could have been damaged by magic, but even then that would not account for some of the things on it. For example, you noticed that instead of only having three fingers and a thumb, it had an extra finger on both of its hands.”

“Of course I did,” Doctor Wing said as he took a suspicious nibble at his sandwich. “And I’m guessing that you noticed the nearly complete lack of body hair save for on top of his head. And perhaps the biggest mystery is the legs. I’m guessing that you as well have never seen anything like that.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like those legs too, but the thing that honestly concerns me more than anything else is the-” She was cut off by the lights that lit the makeshift cafeteria that they were currently eating in dimming, as if an unknown force was putting a very high strain on the base’s mountain grid. A low rumble echoed around the area, before turning into silence, along with the lights returning to their full beam. 

“Uhhhh, what was that?” Dr Wing asked as he looked around, ready to run away at full speed. Wing was not one for confrontation, and would gladly take flight or fight any day, and any time of the solar calendar.

“Like I said, we're not the only ones down here. Gods know what that was,” Dr. Feather said very calmly as she got up to throw away her salad into one of the trashcans situated in the corner of the room.

“Well, that’s calming… Say; how exactly would we get out of here if there was an accident?”

“Hmmm…” A talon lazily tapped Dr. Feather’s beak. “If I were to guess, we would probably get out through the flight bay. It would be the easiest to reach, and would be the easiest to escape from.”

“Heh, have you ever had to do it?”

“Thankfully, no. Nothing has ever escaped from this base, and I hope that nothing ever does. If even a single one of the high security things that are in this base somehow did manage to escape, let’s just say it would make the Changeling swarm that hit Canterlot look like a minor inconvenience.”

“Wait. How exactly are you able to keep creatures and things of that magnitude stuck in a mountain right by the city? Wouldn't you put them away from the capital instead of putting it under our ass?”

Gilded Feather had to suppress an eyeroll; this Doctor’s IQ seemed hardly worth the time it took to print out his PhD. “Hey, not my choice on where they put this place. Just be glad it exists. And there are many ways to keep something stronger than the average gryphon in check. My beak is tied on that matter, however.”

A moment of silence passed without anyone saying anything.

“Say Feather, how long have you been working here?” It was an obvious attempt for small-talk, but Doctor Wing would prefer mindless back-and-forth recollection than utter silence. Thankfully, Dr. Feather seemed willing to indulge him, to a point.

“I’ve been working here for about five years, give or take; why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering simply due to how… young you look. How old exactly are you?”

“I’m twenty-six years old. I got a job here right after graduating Doraemoth School of the Elite Science & Arts. Top of my class.”

“Wait, you graduated from Doraemoth at twenty-one? At the top of your class, no less? Amazing; I’ve never heard of that happening. What was your degree in?”

At the moment, Dr. Feather wasn’t entirely sure if the interest towards her degree was genuine or not. Either way, it was nice that someone cared enough to ask, whether they meant it or not. “I got a doctorate in Cryptozoology. Instead of going out into the field to look for them, I was offered a job here, and the rest is well… history.”

“Wow. Well, good for you on going into a field that a lot of gryphons neglect. I was-” Doctor Wing was cut off by the lights dimming again, this time a lot less shocking to him. “Eh heh... Someone’s having some fun, I guess.” The hollow joke lazily floated in the air, a desperate attempt and hope to lighten the dreary professional mood with his forced colleague.

Instead of the lights gradually coming back to their full brightness, something completely unexpected happened. A high pitched whine filled the air, forcing their talons to go to their ears in an attempt to stop the painful noise. The noise continued for a couple of seconds, before a small boom went off in a direction that felt very close to them. A rumble shook the room they were standing in, before stopping a few seconds later.

Feather took her talons off of her head, before diving to the side to avoid a falling light that crashed into the table, destroying both the table and Wing’s lunch. The elderly griffin had moved away to avoid being hit, and was now standing a few feet away from the ruined table, mourning his sandwich.

“What in the name of Tartarus was that?” 

Wing shook away the recent pang of depression and hunger. “I have no idea, but that explosion was really close by. You don’t think that our little friend could have gotten out, do you?”

“There is no way that thing could have gotten out. He was chained to a table with a locked vault door ten inches thick. All of his clothes were taken off and put into a sealed locker,” Feather said as she walked toward the door that led to the vault.

“Wait, what about that glove of his?”

Feather’s eyebrows arched in revelation. “I thought you picked that up!”

“I thought you did… Oh dear, this may be a problem.”





Starbrought








“So, Griphook, when exactly are you two getting married?” Private Pile asked his fellow guard outside of the mysterious creature’s current confinement. Not that it was needed, in his opinion. According to what they had overheard from the Doctors, the creature was not going to be waking up for quite some time. They had been standing here for around an hour and a half, and nothing had happened out of the ordinary. 

“We’re getting married in about two weeks. Kinda nervous about the whole thing,” Private Griphook responded, itching under his beak. The concept of marriage was making the raw recruit admittedly… nervous, about the whole deal. He wasn’t showing any signs of stress, or so he hoped he wasn’t, but getting married was a big deal. A very very big deal.

“Well, that’s good. Where are you guys getting married at? Hitting up Pike’s Peak?”

“Actually, we’re doing the ceremony on top of Mount Storm.”

Pile’s eyebrows jumped in approval. “Really? How the hell were you able to get a spot for that place? I was stationed there before I came here, and every single day someone was getting married, or having a party, or trying to do stunt dives down the cliff face.”

“Hell if I know; I wasn’t the one that scheduled it. That’s all my fiancé’s doing.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. Just be glad you-” He was cut off by his ears picking up a harsh wine. It was fairly high pitched, but not enough for it to start hurting his ears. He looked around at his fellow guard, who had an expression similar to his own. The noise stopped as suddenly as it had started, and they were left once again with silence.

“The hell was that?”

“I have no idea, probably came from someone deeper in the base. No need to worry,” Private Pile said in a calm tone.

“You're probably right. But I’m going to go ahead and use the P.R.I.C.K to call the main checkpoint below us, just to make sure that they heard it too,” Griphook said as he walked over to the Portable Radioactive Instant Comm Krystal (or P.R.I.C.K for short). The world loved these things, and there was a good reason why that was. It was a simple, and very, very effective device. 

The P.R.I.C.K. was a magically-enhanced Upari crystal that some aging unicorn discovered some years ago. He learned that if he sent a continuous and concentrated stream of magic into the stone, it would be able to interact with other magically-enhanced Upari crystals dozens or hundreds of kilometers away. Further experimentations had apparently led to the discovery of short-distance telecommunications, and the rumor around is that the same unicorn was working to establish a means of communication from coast to coast.

A lofty goal. But a feasible one. 

The only problem that came with the P.R.I.C.K. was that it required an arcane charge in order to become ‘tuned’ to another crystal. But for most of the world, that was not a hard thing. In Alti however, that was a different story.  

The Griffins were sometimes looked at as brutish and harsh creatures, and them being one of the few mainly carnivorous creatures in a mostly vegetarian world made a good deal of unicorns hesitant when deciding whether or not to move to Alti. But the unicorns that did move up there that knew how to send a focused beam of pure magic suddenly got themselves quite a fortune very quickly.

“This is Area 42B contacting Checkpoint A. Are you guys doing any noise experiments down there?”

“Negative Area 42B; no noise tests are occurring down here.”

“Roger that. Did you hear a high pitch whine a few seconds ago?”

“Negative Area 42B; no noises down here.”

“Roger that, over and out.” Griphook put down the P.R.I.C.K. and walked back over to his partner. “Apparently they heard nothing down there.”

“Well, that’s weird. Oh well; must be someone else doing something that they can’t tell us about,” Griphook stated as he took his position at the side of the door. A minute or so passed without any new noise appearing, causing Griphook and Pile to relax.

And that’s when the vault door dissolved into ashes on the floor behind them, and before they could react, something heavy and blunt slammed into the back of their heads. The soldiers lost consciousness immediately, and with no time to react to the threat. As the soldiers fell to the floor, a tall shape walked out of the room. An eerie dark red light pulsed on its right hand as it stepped over the unconscious soldiers, and snatched the faintly-glowing crystal.

“Sorry about your prick being late.” 





Starbrought





The royal guard had one rule hammered into their heads from day one of basic training: when on duty, remain still as stone. Silent Breeze was finding that rule more than a little difficult to follow. The alien prisoner had taken to singing in an ear-grating, yet catchy off-key manner.

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts. There they are, standing in a row! Big ones, small ones, some the size of your head! Give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist. That's what the showman said!"

"For the love of the Creators, shut your trap!" A prisoner further down the cell block shouted. "I can barely hear myself think over your cat-calling, you jerk!"

The alien pressed his face against the bars of his cell, determined to glare at the other prisoner. "How about you shut yours? That song's been a part of civilization for almost a thousand years. Respect the classics!"

"Both of you, shut it!" Silent Breeze snapped. “Prisoners are supposed to be quiet!”

“That wasn’t mentioned during orientation,” the alien quipped. “Also, I didn’t get my free peanuts. How do you expect me to be a compliant prisoner without my free peanuts?”

“There were peanuts?” 

Silent Breeze pressed a hoof to his temple as a third prisoner spoke up. He gave a start as the door leading to the castle proper creaked open, then snapped to attention as Princess Cadance poked her head through the threshold.

The guard snapped to attention. “Your Highness!”

Cadance jumped at the sound of the guard’s voice. “Oh! Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Silent Breeze couldn’t help but take notice of the Princess’ jumpy nature, and how her gaze seemed to be focused on examining the cells. “Is there something I can help you with, Your Highness?”

“As a matter of fact,” Cadance began, slowly dragging out the words as if she were only half paying attention.  “Could you direct me to the cell of our newest… arrival?”

A look of mild confusion crossed Breeze’s face. “Of course, Ma’am. But, why?”

“I have an offer to make him.”






Starbrought








Slayer’s eyes opened. Something didn’t feel right.

Straightening himself from his relaxed position in the cart, he glanced out the back of the cloth curtain. In the far distance, giant mounds of sand sat like silent guardians of the desert. Two Zebra caravan-guards flanked the wagon, but neither noticed the awoken assassin.

‘Where the bloody hell am I again?’ Slayer mused to himself as he observed the interior. Flasks and vials of all sorts (containing a variety of bubbly liquids that were most likely not consumable) sat on secured racks, alongside golden trinkets and admittedly beautifully crafted furnishings with intricate designs. In a brief rush, the revelation of his situation became apparent once more. ‘Holy shit. This looks serviceable to be a pirate’s hoard.’

A grin appeared under his mask as his hand slithered towards a small pouch brisling with gold coins. ‘I believe it is safe to believe that I could get away with a small profit. Never know if I may be stuck here awhile...’  Before Slayer could firmly grasp the bag, the cart abruptly came to a halt.

“Hapa sisi ni!” came a voice coming around the covered wagon. Thinking quickly and without repercussion, Slayer nabbed the fabric purse and slipped it into his utility belt alongside his grenades. The door was then whipped back, exposing the caravan master that Slayer had conversed with previously. He motioned with his hoof for the hitman to remove himself, and so he did.

The orbiting sun was still as scorching as ever, and it made itself known as Slayer was forced to have to endure its’ blinding light. Tilting his head down to avoid the rays some, he followed after the Zebra as they came back around the cart once again. Rounding the front, it became quickly apparent that they were now nestled in the gateway of a large village.

Sandstone walls marked the perimeter of the community, and through the narrow and visible passage of the entrance, Slayer could see nearly barbaric architecture in the form of double-story buildings, making a claustrophobic trail. “Nazar, nyumba zetu.” Slayer glanced down at his guide, who gave him a nod. “Kuja, Interloper. Hebu kutembea.”

‘What did he call me? “Interloper?” I wonder if that is a Galactic Basic cognate...’

Slayer quickly realized something; their language, as archaic as it was, did sound faintly odd. Like he had heard it before. Perhaps he had stumbled across something similar in a holovid regarding a contract, or even just old history back before becoming a bounty hunter was even an option.

As the party began traversing the streets of the settlement, Slayer began digging through the Suit’s programs. Eventually, he stumbled across what he had been looking for: the built-in translation software. With a command-prompt thought issued, the application booted up. The only thing Slayer needed was some test dialogue to narrow down the language field.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Slayer asked. His guide glanced up at him with interest, but it was obvious that the words’ meaning was lost. A groan threatened to rise out of the assassin’s throat. ‘Great. If I want to get anywhere with this, I have to play more Galactic Charades.’ So he mimed pointing to himself, then down the street, before ending his series of movements with a shrug.

It took several moments, but eventually the Zebra understood the gist of what Slayer had meant.

“Wazee wa kikabila wanataka kusema na wewe,” the equine stated with a shrug of his own. Slayer merely blinked behind his mask. How a quadruped was able to manipulate its shoulders to resemble a gesture that was really only anatomically possible with a bipedal form was beyond the warrior. An indicator decided to reveal itself onto Slayer’s HUD, with the results of the translation.

‘“Field narrowed... 46 possible languages fit the test dialogue.”’ Slayer’s brow scrunched in worry. ‘Hmm. I wonder if I can shrink that range even further.’

“Have you encountered a being that looks similar to me?” Slayer wasn’t entirely sure how to charade the question, but he hoped that just speaking would elicit more language to analysis. It proved a meager success.

“Mimi sijui nini tu alisema,” the Zebra replied with a shake of its head.

The warrior had no clue if the meaning behind his question reached the alien, but the ping of another prompt drew his focus away. There were four potential languages that had a match. Slayer needed just one more chunk.

For inspiration on what to pantomime, Slayer glanced around his surroundings. The bustling activity of the city astounded him. Small children bobbed and weaved underfoot of massive throngs of merchants, pickpocketing whatever they could. Wares were brazenly displayed hanging from racks attached to stands, their owners loudly proclaiming their goods. Despite Slayer being utterly foreign to them, the traders did not hesitate to wave down the assassin to examine rugs, baubles, and other trinkets. Down an alleyway, an old Zebra gathered water from a well.

“Do you have any water?” Slayer cupped his hand and acted of taking a drink from it. He was initially met with a confused brow by his escort, before recognition arose on the sentients’ face. The caravan leader offered a corked bottle to him. Cautiously, Slayer made a show of mistrust at the proffered vial.

“Usijali; maji ni si sumu.” It was obvious those words were meant to assure the man, but personally Slayer could care less about what the translation was. The final ping had arrived on his visor. The translator had narrowed down the sample dialogues to one language.

‘Swahili,’ Slayer muttered in his head. It was awkward for him to say, but he did faintly recognize it. Where he recognized it from, however, was not entirely relevant to him at that time. ‘At least I got their language. Let’s give it a test-run...’

“We will be meeting with the Elders soon, Interloper,” the Zebra stated quietly, his accent obvious through the translator’s effort to provide live feedback. Slayer had to suppress thrusting his fist into the air as victory. He would now be able to facilitate communications with the equine race, and then be able to ask specifically for the whereabouts of his Captain. Things were on the up and up, in his eyes.

The assassin had almost been tempted to try out the language himself. However, before he could formulate his first comprehensible sentence, he was abruptly ushered into the flaps of a large tent. Slayer had, admittedly, zoned out during his translating efforts, and not even realized they were approaching the tent. 

He made a note to remain more aware of his surroundings in the future.

The next several seconds upon entering the tent was a blur of words quickly passed from one Zebra to another, and Slayer being sat down in front of a smoking pit-fire. Across from him in a ragged semi-circle laid five, decrepit Zebras. Their age was prominent by the wrinkles on their muzzles, and the grey in their manes. To his left, Slayer briefly saw the end of the caravan leader finishing a parody of a kowtow. “Elders. I have brought the Interloper, as you requested.”

Slayer could only raise a brow under his visor. ‘“As you requested?”’ His eyes glazed over the throng in front of him. ‘They had not only been expecting me, but asked for an audience as well? This may either prove to be very bad, or very good.’

The center Zebra, whom Slayer could only guess was the most important of the Elders, gave a nod. “Thank you, Shamon. You say that you were unable to communicate with him, yes?”

Shamon nodded in kind. “Yes, Elder. It appears the Interloper has a language, but it is unlike any dialect the Minotaurs have ever spoken. To my knowledge, of course.”

Slayer’s eyes widened. Minotaurs? As in, the ancient mythical being from a story that had been brought back from Earth? The ex-bounty hunter recalled the beast well; half bull, half man, all murderous rage and muscle. If there was an entire race of them on this planet...

Slayer could not help but gently gulp.

“Perhaps that is because we do not believe this Interloper to be one of the Minotaurs,” the center Elder said again. The old male (Slayer would presume that the Zebra would be referred to as a ‘stallion’) squinted at the metal-clad man. “I will admit, I am not sure how we will be able to communicate with the Interloper. But, an opportunity will be presented to us, I am sure.”

“Indeed it will,” Slayer said out-loud. The translator automatically turned the Galactic Basic into Swahili, accented but still fairly recognizable. Obviously, the only rational response any of the Zebras could do was have their jaws drop.

“You can speak our language?” The caravan leader, Shamon, muttered. The incredulous tone amused Slayer relentlessly, nearly causing his stoic tone of voice to waver as he began talking.

“Quite. Although, this is a recent development.” From his cross-legged sitting position, Slayer gave a deep nod. He may be a hitman and assassin, but Slayer was still capable of showing respect where it was due. Especially if those people ended up being useful to the man later on. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My translator had only recently transcribed your language into something I could understand.”

While Slayer didn’t notice, the other Zebras glanced around in confusion. The Interloper had come alone. Where was his translator? Shaking it away, Slayer was addressed by the center Elder. “I am chieftain of Nazar. My name is Imamu. What is yours?”

As custom whenever he introduced himself properly to another, Slayer brought his closed fist to his chest. Though, unlike his usual introduction, he was forced to omit some incriminating data. Which was most of his greeting. “I am Slayer. Warrior of my tribe from the stars.” Truly, Slayer had no clue what he was actually saying. For all he knew, the Zebras would reject the notion of intergalactic travel and condemn him on the spot for blasphemy.

Thankfully, Elder Imamu seemed forgiving. That did not stop the skeptical tone from entering his voice. “We had presumed you were not of the desert. But the claim you are making requires proof. Do you have some?”

Slayer’s brow furrowed. According to the interpretation he could make, the Zebras were indeed not the ones who had stumbled onto the Ethereal, and therefore were not involved with the kidnapping of Drake. Still, they could just as easily have been lying to the assassin. Which would be a poor choice on their part.

“Shamon.” The aforementioned Zebra seemed surprised to hear his name leave the Interloper. “Could you vouch for me on this matter?”

“The Interloper speaks the truth. I have seen him in combat. He can shoot fire without magic.”

Curiosity ranged wildly across the Elders’ faces. “Could you please demonstrate this?”

Slayer snorted, and then stood. If a show of superior technology was what they wanted, then a show of superior technology was what they were going to get. Investigating the floor of the tent revealed a section of exposed sand, an unusual splotch taking into account the sandstone that composed the walkways of the city. Before anyone could consider to stop him, Slayer drew one of his Sabre Shots, and fiddled with the power setting briefly.

Slayer had three settings. Stun, Kill, and Overkill. For this demonstration, he chose Overkill.

Aiming down, he twitched his trigger-finger. The result was a powerful bolt of energy rocketing out of the barrel of the pistol, before finding purchase on the sandy section. Heat and light kicked up, frightening and almost blinding the non-human occupants within the tent. A few moments passed, before Slayer bent down and grabbed something from the scorch.

The assassin walked briskly back in front of the Elder crescent, and presented the product of his little experiment. Clutched betwixt two digits was a small, jagged orb of pure glass. While no individual could witness it, Slayer smugly smirked behind his mask at the dumbfounded expressions meeting him. “Is this sufficient evidence?”
    

> Chapter Seven - Nerve-Wracking Negotiations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





Slayer absentmindedly tapped a finger against his knee as he waited. The Zebra council had asked the bounty hunter to leave their tent so that they could discuss him in private, and so he waited a short distance away, sitting on a stone bench. Shamon had been delegated to watch over Slayer and make sure that nothing went wrong, and was propped against the wall closest to the bench.

For a time, Shamon had tried to establish some small-talk with the metal-clad warrior. But each attempt was shot down by brooding silence. Eventually, Shamon stopped trying a conversation altogether, and began busying himself with watching lazy sand particles drift through the desert air.

“What is taking your Elders so long?”

The response was accompanied by a shrug. “I am not sure. They are probably just weighing whether you are a threat or not, Mr. Slayer.”

A grunt left the hitman. “Just ‘Slayer’ will be fine, Shamon.” Idly, Slayer went to scratch his chin, before he realized he was wearing a face-mask and growled. Sometimes, the Suit really got in the way for him. Standing up abruptly, Slayer addressed his escort. “I don’t exactly appreciate being treated like a criminal, you know.”

‘Even though I damn well am one,’ Slayer quipped to himself with a snark in the back of his skull.

His Zebra acquaintance was quick to placate. “You must understand; these are tough times to just blindly trust. The Elders are just ensuring amongst themselves that they can trust you.” Shamon shook his head, causing his long locks to wave in the wind. “It is nothing personal towards you. I assure it.”

The words caused Slayer to quietly examine the equine. “...Do you trust me?”

Shamon remained silent, his brow furrowed as he processed the question. Neither said anything for awhile. “I... I believe I do. You had saved both my life, as well as that of my kin’s at the risk of your own. You asked for no reward, and had no hidden intention. So, yes; I trust you.”

The gentle smile offered to Slayer forced his brain to fully absorb what was said. ‘How wrong this little Zebra is. Had I more foresight, I would have ransomed you back to your people for a significant profit and for Drake.’

The soldier’s face tightened. ‘Knowing that he trusts me, and that his people may have nothing to do with Drake’s disappearance, though... I’m not entirely sure if I could still.’

Before either party could say anything further on the matter, another Zebra approached. He gave a nod of respect towards Shamon, but coldly addressed Slayer. “The Elders are ready to speak with you again, Interloper.”

Slayer snorted behind his visor; whether the name was said out of ignorance or arrogance was unknown. ‘Doesn't really matter, I guess,’ Slayer considered as he was once again sat down in the tent.

The crescent of senior Zebras appeared the same as before to Slayer. The only notable difference was that they all seemed more... on-edge. Strained, somehow. As if it was taking their entire wealth of willpower to remain sitting, and composed.

Slayer gave a predatory grin. This could be very advantageous.

“Could you please inform us as to why you are in our country?” Elder Imamu’s voice wasn’t necessarily terse, but the easy-going undertone prior to Slayer’s little presentation was gone. Slayer’s eyes squinted in contemplation. The truth was a powerful thing, and left little room to work with if they didn’t like it. Then again, lying dug a very big hole to climb out of. If discovered.

The assassin shrugged. “I happened to crash-land my ship in your desert. Pure coincidence, actually.” It wasn’t exactly a lie as it was a denial of the full truth. A half-truth, if you would. Slayer mused that perhaps all of his answers would have to follow a similar format.

Imamu gave a nod. “What is your species, if you could elaborate?”

“It’s not very important, to be honest.” Slayer rolled the glass orb from his experiment around his palm casually. For some reason, he decided to keep it around instead of just throwing it away. “All that is important is that my species was having a war. Me and my crew-mates wanted nothing to do with it. So we fled. And we crashed.”

“Your crew-mates?” Imamu tilted his head in confusion. “I see no one with you. Where are they?”

“That’s what I want to find out.” Straightening his back, Slayer spoke with a bit more authority in his tone. The other Elders, no doubt still shaken by Slayer’s demonstration earlier, tensed their muscles by an almost incalculable amount. “When I came to, my pilot was missing, and my engineer unconscious. Through some investigation and logical follow-through, I discovered some hoof-prints in the sand next to my ship.”

The Elders cumulatively squinted. Slayer didn’t have to fully voice his accusation. “Are you implying that you believe that we had something to do with your pilot’s disappearance?”

Another shrug. “Not precisely. But to my current knowledge, you are the only present sentient race here that has hooves.” While the sadistic grin wasn’t prevalent to the Zebras, the sensation carried itself through his words. “And I intend to exact significant revenge on whoever kidnapped my pilot.”

Imamu flicked questioning eyes towards Shamon, who stood behind Slayer once again watching the spectacle known as negotiations play out. Shamon met the Elder’s gaze with a shake of his head. Imamu looked relieved. “When did you crash-land, you say?”

“I didn’t.” Slayer retorted, watching the sapient equines’ unease with a vague hint of relish. It really was too easy. “It was some days ago, though. I do recall a meteor shower occurring as we crashed. In fact, that was the sole reason why we did.”

An intake of breath sounded out within the tent behind Slayer. “The Night of the Falling Skies...”

A curious brow rose behind Slayer’s visor. “The Night of the Falling Skies? Elaborate.”

“It’s a rare event that happens once every one-thousand years,” Shamon’s explanation floated in the silent tent. “Princess Luna from the lands of Equestria would pull meteors from the stars and unleash a shower to commemorate the loss of her oldest friend. Who that friend is, no one knows.”

A light, thoughtful sound left the assassin. “Who is this ‘Princess Luna’, exactly?”

Shamon tapped his hoof on the ground softly in thought. He was having some difficulty considering how to explain it to an interplanetary foreigner. “Princess Luna is an Alicorn. One of the co-rulers of Equestria, the kingdom of the Ponies. They had sent an envoy to convene with me some time ago to establish trade with my kin.”

Slayer’s back stiffened. ‘Ponies? Those are prepubescent horses. Horses have hooves. Zebras talked to a Pony escort a few days ago. We crashed a few days ago. And if the Zebras know nothing about Drake? Wait a fucking tic...’

The sudden shift of Slayer’s head to fully address Shamon caused the Elders to flinch unnoticed. They were no doubt thankful for this fact as Slayer spoke. “When exactly did you meet with these Ponies?”

“I believe it was a day before The Night of the Falling Skies had occurred. Why?”

The assassin nodded to himself. He had a hunch. A very strong one. Looking back towards the Elders, Slayer began speaking in a resolute tone. “I believe the... Equestrians, are responsible for my pilot’s disappearance. If they’re a convoy, then they no doubt stumbled upon my ship and extracted my pilot to bring him back with them.”

One of the nameless Elders spoke out. “How are you so sure that they are responsible?”

Ice entered Slayer’s voice. “Because if they didn’t, and if no other sapient races with hooves are available to blame, that means your kin is to be held accountable for my pilot’s current hostage state. And that isn’t good for you.”

Imamu bristled. The two guards that had quietly entered the tent after Slayer’s experiment drew stout staffs in defense. Slayer almost lazily glanced behind him for a moment, before returning his attention to the front. “Threatening us in our own city is hardly a wise move, Interloper.”

In a harsh blitz of speed, Slayer stood up and drew one of his Sabres. Without mercy he leveled the pistol and aimed it at a now-frightened Imamu. Slayer’s patience, and Drake’s time, were both running short. Things had to be moved along. “Getting in the way of me getting off this planet is hardly a wise move, beast.”

A few moments passed in tense silence. The guards were like springs, coiled and ready to incapacitate Slayer the very instant one of the Elders commanded it. “This is how it’s going to work." Slayer began. His voice was like silk. "In return for me protecting your caravan, I demand passage to Equestria. If you will not give me said passage,” Slayer made a move to click his Sabre to Kill, “I will simply start shooting until someone will.”

Shamon stood to the sidelines of this. And he was hardly believing his eyes. Elder Imamu, one of the most respected tribal leaders of Nazar--and by extension, the entire Zebra race--had just been threatened with his life by some unknown being from the sky clad in crimson armour and fire-projecting weapons.

Imamu’s fright had been suppressed with defiance. Slayer had to admit; the equines’ inability to submit to violent coercion was something to be admired. “Do you even realize who you’re threatening, Interloper? If you were to kill me, you would have to face hundreds of warriors in order to leave these city walls.”

“I, frankly, do not care.” Slayer rolled his free wrist to loosen it. “I will do what I have to in order to get my pilot back, and get off this forsaken rock.” A flexing of his hand unleashed several quiet pops as he held the sphere. Slayer’s tone made his words not threats, but simple facts. “Besides, are you willing to sacrifice hundreds of your people for a dozen of some other people?”

The Elder seemed mostly unperturbed, save for a small twitch. The other guards, meanwhile, couldn’t suppress their audible gulps in time. “You underestimate the strength of our kin.”

“You underestimate my resolve.”

Imamu flinched fully this time. Clearly, Slayer’s unwillingness to yield to the potential of being overwhelmed by sheer numbers was unexpected and astounding to the Elder. In all honesty, Slayer was pulling a major bluff. He knew that it would only take a small mob to win out over his arsenal, and he would quickly be systematically eliminated by sheer numbers alone.

In hindsight, Slayer considered that going this route wasn’t necessarily the best one. Actually, it was one of the worst possible situations he could have placed himself in. But he didn’t have another option; amiable negotiations were infamous for being overly tedious, and underwhelmingly successful. Slayer had to introduce some... incentive.

Otherwise, Drake’s life could be compromised, and Slayer would be shit outta luck, all because he tried to be Mr. Nice Guy and attempted to handle things like a politician or a bureaucrat would. Slayer didn’t enjoy wasting time when there were things to do, and this was one of those instances.

Imamu glanced towards the other Elders, who showed no signs of getting in the way of the Sabre Shot pointed in their general direction. With a shaky sigh, he spoke. “Fine... I will get you your transport.” He dejectedly looked over towards Shamon. “It seems your convoy will remain on course, Bwana Shamon. One passenger extra.”

Slayer blinked. The word hadn’t been translated. It must of been a local term exclusive to the Zebra culture. Using some logical analysis, Slayer simply concluded that the foreign syntax was a rank of sorts. ‘Strange that Shamon was not referred to this sooner... or that it was never mentioned at all during their initial greeting,’ Slayer pondered. ‘And apparently Shamon was riding towards Equestria before the dog-creatures attacked? This is too convenient for my liking...’

Meanwhile, Shamon’s mind was a whirlwind. Out of everything he had been expecting the space-born warrior to do, threatening the Elder council with their lives was hardly one of them. Perhaps he had been wrong; Slayer might had saved him and his kin purely for leverage later on. The thought depressed the leader of the Zebra nation. He had been hoping that this Slayer character would be a paragon of sorts to break the spine of the Diamond Dogs’ war effort against the Zebras.

Obviously, Slayer seemed to be anything but that.

“As you wish, Elder.”

Imamu turned back towards Slayer, an unreadable expression on his face as the assassin had finally holstered his weapon. The Zebra guards likewise shouldered their staves, though more begrudging than Slayer did. “You may leave whenever you like, Interloper.” The wrinkles on the aged muzzle seemed to deepen with sadness. “Please do not hurry coming back. You are no longer welcome amongst our kin.”

In another scenario, Slayer might have felt more remorse for what he had done. The Elders were senior citizens, and civilians on top of that. Threatening them to further goals was pathetic, and was overall a sign of an atrocious lack of honour on his part, which meant a lot to the warrior. But this scenario involved the potential death to the only competent twat who could fly the Ethereal.

So honour had to be sacrificed for survival. ‘An unfortunate thing to do’, Slayer thought quietly.

The assassin stood, and dipped his head deeper than he normally would. “I am sorry for doing this, but I have no other choice. If my pilot dies, I will have no way to leave this planet.” Slayer turned, not wanting to look into the Elder’s eyes. He had a mission to focus on. “I will depart immediately. Shamon, if you could please lead me back to your car-”

“Where were you fleeing to?”

Slayer stopped mid-step. The light howling of the wind outside was the only sound. Setting his heel down fully, he gave a half-glance towards Imamu. “Does it matter? If I get my pilot and repair my vessel, you won’t have to worry about me ever again.”

“Sate my curiosity.” There was a certain indescribable undertone to Imamu’s voice. One that gave Slayer pause. He was not one to take orders well, and what the Zebra just said almost sounded like a command. Or was it a plea? The neutral look on the weary muzzle made it hard to discern. “Amuse an old beast.”

Slayer almost winced. The beast comment he made was a venomous bite that held no genuine poison in the soldier’s heart. For a moment, Slayer considered just walking out the tent without another word. But, for some reason or another, Slayer decided to indeed sate Imamu’s curiosity.

To a point.

“Me and my crew learned of a place separate from the warring factions of my people. It had been lost for hundreds of years, but we figured out where it was. When we tried to make the voyage, we had been attacked, and was forced to land here. On your world.”

Imamu squinted. Slayer mused that this was the reason why the Zebra had significantly more crow’s feet than the other Elders. “Did you have any evidence that this place was even still there?”

Slayer’s face sagged a smidge, but the action went unnoticed behind the tinted glass. “No. We were simply running on hope.”

“Are you still hopeful you’ll get there?” The question wasn’t intrusive. Slayer didn’t have to answer. Answering would only expose a potential weakness. Something a potential enemy could exploit. That was the last thing he needed, right?

In fact, for what felt like eons, Slayer didn’t respond. The stillness caused Shamon to shift uncomfortably. Subconsciously, the assassin rolled the glass orb around in his hand once more. Eventually, however, he gave a brief chuckle--one void of actual humor--and walked out saying only three words.

“I hope so.”





Starbrought





“Take a right up ahead,” Gilded Feather yelled back as she ran down the hallway towards the vault at a speed that would have impressed a sprinter. “We’re nearly there!”  Her white lab-coat fluttered behind her as she sped through corridors, reminiscent of a cape in an old movie.

Thoughts raced through her mind as her synapses fired, calculating nearly every move that she, the creature, or the soldiers could possibly make. 

Her colleague however, was not doing so well. To be fair; when you’re in your late 50’s, what would one expect?

The much older, and out of shape Glass Wing was struggling to even get into a running speed as his hips were hurting him immensely. He wheezed and coughed as he moved as fast as he could, his lab-coat staying right on his back where it belonged. He looked up to see his colleague moving away from him at a rapid speed, and soon she disappeared from view. 

“Doc...cough... Doctor, do you mind slowing down for a moment? Doctor?!” Glass yelled as loud as he could, which sadly forced a small coughing fit to develop. Glass waited for a moment, hoping that he was not too far behind. After a small bit of time passed, he was starting to get worried.

“Fine,” came the lone reply from down the corridor, forcing a small smile to appear on his old beak. He began to do a half-stumble/half-limp in the direction the voice came, which was the only way he could progress without having a heart-attack.

Several moments later, the shape of a Griffon appeared in the Doctor’s vision. However, several more steps later caused the lone shape of the Griffon to be split into several more shapes. Glass stopped for a moment and squinted, trying to get rid of what he thought was just his bad vision messing with him. The shapes did not go away, however, but instead got clearer and more precise. There was definitely more than one Griffon, and they were much bigger than the Doctor. 

‘Soldiers. Why did she go to the soldiers? She must know something my old self doesn’t. Wait, that was a stupid thought. Of course she knows more than I do; she freaking works here!’

As Glass got closer, he could see a clearer picture of what was happening. And what he saw worried him. Gilded Feather was in the middle of a semicircle of five fully-armed Griffon soldiers. They stood around five feet tall, and were built to par. However, the thing that caught his old eyes the most was the armor.

The usual Griffon soldiers that he had seen had the same simple armor. They were a dark, midnight black chain and plate armor that covered their sides, chest and neck. There was a hole in the armor by the wings so that the soldiers could fly without interference. The wings themselves were not guarded, simply due to the fact that the extra weight could cause problems when it came to flying.

The helmet however, was one of the main symbols of the Griffon race. It was similarly related to the helmets of the ancient Pegasus race and the modern day helmets of the Equestrian Royal Guard. However, there were some notable differences. For one, the helmets had a fortified section that went over the Griffon’s beak to protect it from blows that could fracture the beak, and in general it was much stronger than the Equestrian version.  Another difference was instead of the plume on top of the helmet, there was instead a traditional set of the soldiers’ own feathers.

These soldiers however, had different armor. Instead of the dark, midnight black commonly found on the persons of the usual rabble that composed the Griffon Army, they were a gleaming porcelain white, and the armor looked to be made of a different material than the usual steel armor. The feathers were still there, but there was also custom, flexible armor covering the wings.

As Glass neared the circle of Griffons, he began to pick up words from the semicircle. 

“So, let me get this straight, Ma’am. You believe the sudden loss of power and tremors could have possibly been caused by a subject of yours, and that we need to instigate a Level-3 Lockdown of the section up ahead?” A gleaming white soldier with the stripes of Sergeant spoke to Feather in a very militant tone, with no hint of humor or sarcasm in his voice. He was a dull brown color, with sharp yellow eyes and a small scar running from his beak up to his right eye. 

“Yes Sergeant, I do,” Feather said in a slightly panicked tone. She had a minor twitch in her legs, showing her nervousness at the situation. 

“And as someone like yourself must know, Doctor Feather, we cannot instigate a Level-3 Lockdown without proof of the action. So, could you please provide me some, Ma’am?” 

An awkward silence developed as Gilded Feather raked her mind to find some evidence that she could possibly use to convince the Sergeant to initiate the Lockdown. Beside her own opinion, which sadly the soldiers would not take into consideration due to their training, she had no evidence.

“...No Sergeant, I cannot provide you any evidence as of now that this creature did cause this event,” she said with a slightly saddened tone. “However, I do ask that you contact the guards in the room to ensure that nothing could have happened.”

The Sergeant considered this for a moment, before opening his beak again to respond. “Very well, Ma’am; that I can do for you. Private Iron, hand me the P.R.I.C.K.” Behind him, a Private who responded with a ‘yes sir’, took one of the magical crystals out of his backpack. He handed it to the Sergeant, who opened up the channel to the guards in the room. 

“Private Griphook, this is Sergeant Diamond: please report in.” 

Silence filled the room as no reply was given by the guards, and Feather felt her blood run cold. She had a bad feeling about what was going to happen, and her feelings were usually right. A look of confusion marred with irritation appeared on Sergeant Diamond's beak.

“Private! Report in!” Once again, silence filled the already quiet room.

“Sergeant, I do believe this is proof that something happened in that room. Can you start the Lockdown, please?” Feather whispered in a hushed voice. The rest of the soldiers looked around, a small bit of fear emerging on their usually stone-cold visages. The Sergeant took a minute to think, which allowed Glass to finally join the group, although a bit behind the rest of the soldiers.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to say but this does not prove that this creature was the one that caused the problem. Perhaps the tremors may have damaged their P.R.I.C.K., or the channel is down for whatever reason." The distraught expression that came over Feather's face made the Sergeant backpedal slightly. "However, since there is no way to be sure of this, I shall lead my squad to investigate what happened regardless. And if the creature has escaped, it shall be subdued. You can be rest assured, Ma’am.” The other soldiers grunted in approval, their minds filled with a pride that had been drilled into them.

Glass took this as his cue to step in, mostly because he had something to say. And from the look of Feather, she may have had something along the same lines until she noticed him. He gulped, and hoped that these formidable looking soldiers would listen to an old Griffon like himself.

“Sergeant, with all due respect, I don’t believe you understand what you're dealing with,” Glass said with the clearest, most straightforward voice he could manage. “The creature that we were... are dealing with, is unlike anything we’ve ever dealt with or seen. I don’t think-” He was cut off by one of the soldiers rapidly turning around and drawing his sword, before pointing the razor sharp blade directly at Glasses’ neck. The poor old Griffon's eyes got so wide they looked like dinner plates.

The blade was a pure white color, with light gleaming off its surface. It fit the Private’s talon perfectly. The blade was double edged, with the two sides meeting in the middle of the blade to form a stabbing point. 

“Calm down, Private! He’s my colleague on the project,"  Feather yelled as she grabbed the Private’s arm and pushed it away showing a surprising amount of force. Nearly instantly after that, Sergeant Diamond grabbed the Private on the shoulder and pulled him back before exchanging a stare that said everything without saying anything.

An awkward silence followed, while Feather helped Glass calm down a bit, which in Glasses' opinion was an odd turn from her usual cold personality. 

The hallway was filled with the usual silence that came with hallways inside secret mountain bases. The only other sound that could be heard was the small hum from the lights that lit up the hallway.  So, it may have been a bit of a surprise when suddenly, out of the blue, the lights turned off.

“OK, you guys really need to work on your power supplies. I mean, come on,” Glass complained. Two of the Privates pulled out glow sticks and activated them. A faint neon glow filled the corridor, which allowed everyone to see a small distance into the now pitch-black hallway.

“Dr. Feather, you don’t think that our little friend could have been involved with this, do you?” 

“I wouldn't put it past him. That’s why we're in this situation to begin with, right?”

“...Doctor. Say that the creature does show up while the guards are here. What will happen?”

“To make it short and sweet?" A sigh left the hen. "They’ll try to reason with it, and if that does not work they will use any necessary force to either capture it or prevent it from escaping. And if worse comes to worse, they’ll kill it,” Feather stated with remorse in her voice. Wing gave an odd expression, like he could not believe what would happen.

“What? That makes no sense!”

“It doesn’t need to make sense. Down here, security is placed higher than above all else, even life. You know, all that for the greater good and such,” Feather said, nearly copying the speech that was given to her at the orientation. 

“What could be hidden down here that would cause you to do something like that?!”

“Like I said before, I don’t know. However, you can guess that due to the severity of the rules, that it’s something big.”

While their conversation had been going on, Diamond and the other Griffons had been trying to get in contact with the power room to get a sit-rep, but with no results. The power room head engineer explained that the mountain's power supply had a sudden loss in power, and the engineers couldn't understand or explain what had happened.

“Sergeant Diamond, can you come here, sir?’ Diamond turned around to see one of the Privates pointing out into the darkness. 

“What is it?”

“Sir, there’s a light down there, or something along those lines.” Diamond peered into the darkness, and sure enough, there was a very dim, red light at the end of the darkness. It did not appear to be moving.

“Doctors, come here for a moment,” Diamond called and waited as the Doctors came over. “Do you two see that light out there?” They both looked, or squinted in Glasses' case, but soon enough both nodded.

“Any idea what it is?”

“No idea,” Glass said back, clearly becoming nervous. This was right out of a ghost story, and those usually turned into horror stories. Before Feather could get out her response, the light suddenly disappeared, returning the dark hallway to what it was before. The group of Griffons stood in silence, their minds trying to explain what the light could have possibly been.

“Perhaps we should go and check it-” Doctor glass was cut off by the Sergeant raising his right talon.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not going to risk my life, my soldiers lives and yours to go and investigate an unknown object in a dark hallway. We could get ambushed or anything along those lines.”

Before anyone could mutter out a response, the P.R.I.C.K. suddenly received a message from the power station. 

“To all sectors currently without power, we apologize for any inconveniences that have occurred. Power to all sectors will be restored momentarily. If any more problems continue, please contact Maintenance at once.” 

“Well, that’s good news,” Glass said with a happy tone. ”Sergeant, when the lights come back on, will we be able to continue our journey to the creature?”

“Yes. I don’t believe I was told your name, Mr…?”

“Dr. Wing. Glass Wing, sir.”

The officer quirked an eyebrow at the aging Griffon. “Is this your first day down here, Dr. Wing?”

“Yes it is.”

“Hell of a first day then,” Diamond let out with a laugh, which sounded forced coming from such a grizzled vet. 

“I guess you can say it is,” Glass said back with the same little laugh at the end. He however, was suddenly blinded as a rush of something white eclipsed his vision. ‘I take it this would be the power coming back on. Funny, it wasn’t this bright before.’ As his vision cleared, he noticed that there was something dark in front of him. He squinted again, but still could not see anything. He heard Feather gasp, and several of the soldiers cursed. 

“Did something happen?” Glass asked with a questionable tone, wondering what exactly was happening.

“Nobody move. We don’t want to startle it,” he heard Feather blurt out, a slightly terrified tone to her voice. 

“Startle what?”

“Doctor, open your eyes. We have a guest.” Diamond’s voice was calm and authoritative. Glass opened his eyes--when he closed them, he couldn't recall--and was shocked at what precisely his eyes were telling his brain.

Standing maybe twenty feet away was the exact same creature that he had just been studying thirty minutes ago. However, it was not bound and lying on a table. It, or rather he, was standing up on his legs, and he was tall.

He easily stood over six feet in height, towering over the soldiers and nearly scrapping the ceiling with his head. He wore the same set of sandy black clothes that he had come in with, and a pair of ruined coverings on his feet. He was a peach color, with what looked like a mane of shaggy and dirty brown hair. He had what looked like a faded scar on his right forearm, though the origin of what may have caused it was unknown to the Griffon party at that time.

He seemed to be well built, with very little fat on him at all from what they could see, and from what the doctors had learned when they examined the lower part of his body. They had been stopped due to Glass getting rather hungry, much to Feather’s silent annoyance. 

They could not see the color of his eyes, but they could tell that he was just surprised to see them as they were to see him. However, the thing that worried them the most was the glowing red glove on his right hand. Glass could see the soldiers clutching their weapons, just in case the situation got out of hand.

The creature was giving them a puzzling look, and it took a moment before Glass could figure out what the look was. He was being inspected and looked over, as well as every other Griffon in his group, and the same was happening from the soldiers. To put it simply, they were sizing each other up, and that had led to a standoff. A tense standoff had developed, but that was soon shattered by a single, unknown sentence.

“C’est nouveau,” The creature spoke in a deep voice, the sound echoing off the walls of the hallway. The language was unrecognizable, but had a definite accent to it. None of the Griffons answered back his response, but several gulps were heard. However, at least one Griffon was happy.

“This…. this is amazing! Out of anything that could have happened, and of all the creatures, I finally get one that can speak! To be fair, it’s in a language that I can’t understand, but still! This is the best day ever,” Glass exclaimed as he practically hopped around the narrow hall. 

Even in the oddity of the situation, both the creature and the rest of the group turned around and stared at the Doctor. The creature had a slight smile on its face, as if he was unsure if he found the whole situation funny.

“Uh... sorry about him. I guess he’s somewhat excited,” Feather said as she face-taloned at her colleague’s odd behavior. 

“Je n'ai aucune idée de ce que vous dites,” the creature said back in its odd language. Feather was able to catch a word that sounded like their own word idea, but the rest of what he said was meaningless. Feather was confused, and for one of the first times in her life she truly had no idea what to do. She had gotten a degree in Cryptozoology, and most of the creatures she had been studying did not speak any language besides grunts and tweets.

“Pouvez-vous me comprenez?” No one answered, but a cricket decided to voice its thought on the creature. Thankfully, none of the soldiers nor the bipedal being could understand the small insect, else they would have blushed at the vulgar word-choice. “Prenant cela comme une no. God damn traducteur! Je blâme Slayer. Fatass probablement assis sur elle.”

“We have no idea what you’re saying,” Glass interrupted, and it appeared that his sudden bout of energy had gone away. He thought for a moment. Maybe they could establish communications if he spoke slowly? “My. Name. Is. Glass Wing. Do. You. Understand. Me?”

“Je. Ne. Peux. Comprendre. Que. Vous. Veuillez. Arrêter. De. Parler. Comme. Ce.” the creature said in a tittering response.

“Doctor, what is it saying?

“Uh… It appears to be mocking Dr. Glass, Sergeant.”

“Well that’s rather rude. I’ve done nothing to it!”

“Je me suis réveillé sans pantalon. Vous avez fait quelque chose,” the creature’s tone grew to one of annoyance. It drew up its hand and pointed towards itself, making the guards reach a bit closer to their weapons.

“Mon nom est Yuri. Yyyyyuuuuurrrriiiiii.” He said, drawing out the last word. It took Glass and Feather a moment to realize what he was saying, but it told them something very, very important. 

“Your name is Yuri?” Feather took a step forward, and noted that the creature shifted its stance a bit.

“A pris you long Assez.” Feather began to open her beak to remark that what the creature had said was a mixture of his foreign tongue and Equestrian, but the P.R.I.C.K. in Diamond's bag suddenly went off with a brisk ring. The creature named Yuri looked on in intrigue as Diamond took out the object and put it to his ear.

“This Is Sergeant Diamond. Ye- Yes sir, I’m sorry for not responding to your call. We were called away due to a Class 4 situation that-” The Griffon paused for a moment. “Yes, a Class 4. No- no, we don’t have the subject in binds yet. He’s trying to commu-” Sergeant Diamond trailed off, face contorting in surprise. “But sir, he’s not making any moves to try to escape or become hostile. I mean, he was mocking one of the Doctors…” Another interruption led to him sighing. “Yes sir, I understand,” Diamond put the P.R.I.C.K back in his bag, and called to his guards into a circle.

After a few moments of rapid discussion, the group turned around and stepped in front of the Doctors. A rattle was heard, and a pair of taloncuffs emerged from the bag. The creature’s face suddenly turned from a look of confusion to a look of anger as it fell into a defensive position.

“Sergeant, what are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry Doctors, but I need you to back up. Colonel Hard Rock ordered me to take this... thing into custody by using all available and necessary force.” As if by command, all of the soldiers drew their swords and took to a fighting stance. The corridor was a tight space, so flying in a combat situation would be limited.

“Creature by the name of Yuri, I hereby in the name of Leo take you into custody. You have no rights, and if you do not meet this order, we will respond with the necessary amount of force to incapacitate you,” Diamond said in the cold, emotionless voice that most soldiers spoke in. "Will you comply?" Yuri stared at them, his eyes digging into their chests. 

His glove, which had stopped glowing the dark, crimson red suddenly turned back on as it illuminated with the light of Celestia’s Sun. The guards held firm as he moved the glove up to his chest, before moving into what looked like a fighting stance. The glove began emitting a high-pitched whine like it was charging up. A slight shimmer appeared in front of Yuri, before disappearing. 

“Come get me, you feathered fucks.”

They came.





Starbrought





Slayer was really beginning to despise the color yellow.

Feeling as if he had been drowning in it, the offensive element of the spectrum assaulted his eyes to the point of a felony charge. He had to endure staring at the same, damn bloody yellow marring the stones, the sands, and everything in between for far too long.

He could hardly wait to be free of the desert.

The quaint hum-drum of Nazar floated lazily through the Solaris Suit’s speakers, filling Slayer’s eardrums with the bustle of the bazaar he had encountered earlier that day. His steel boots pinged off as they marched down the sandstone path, Shamon in tow. Shamon had not said anything to Slayer since they had left the Elder’s presence, and it was starting to bug the assassin.

Slayer glanced towards his acquaintance, a contemplative expression being donned on the striped muzzle. “I am sorry that I was forced to threaten your Elders.” Slayer was never good with apologizing. Or with using tactful euphemisms. Or with small-talk in general, really.

“It is fine.” From the tone of Shamon’s voice, Slayer could definitely tell that it certainly was not.

Slayer pursed his lips as the pair descended a brief bit of stairs. He was feeling much more guilt and regret than he had originally anticipated. Why was this affecting him so? They were aliens, sapient equines from an entirely different galaxy. Why did he care? Why did it seem unfeasible to just ignore the aggressive intimidation he had put that assembled council through, and proceed towards more important matters?

Shamon gave a tired sigh, and glanced up towards Slayer. The height difference was so monumentally great that the Zebra almost had to strain his head to look into Slayer’s visor. “Look; I understand why you did what you did. So don’t feel as if you must apologize to me.”

The bounty hunter shook his head. “I do not apologize because I feel like I need to. I apologize because I wish to.” This was another of Slayer’s half-truths, as he did feel like Shamon was entitled to an actual apology.

After all, Shamon gave him food.

Said Zebra gave a snort, which only prompted Slayer to continue. “I am currently stranded on an unknown planet, with my ship in tatters and the remnants of my crew scattered. I've been attacked by alien dogs on two separate occasions. My mind is stressed, frustrated, and above all else revengeful against those who kidnapped my pilot. It is hardly fair to hold my actions on what I felt I needed to do to survive against me--”

“Would you have followed through with your threat if Elder Imamu had not given in?”

The abrupt question made Slayer stop, and Shamon paused in front of him soon after. Would he have? It was a question he himself had been mulling over ever since he had passed through those fabric flaps of the Elder's tent some minutes prior. After a few moments, Slayer formulated an answer. “To be honest; no. The worst I would have done is fire warning shots a safe distance away from potential casualties. I will not sacrifice my morality to further my own goals, at least not to that extent.”

Slayer needed to tread carefully. He needed the Zebra to remain friendly. Shamon was Slayer’s only available lifeline. Severing it would do little in the effort of rescuing Drake, and inevitably repairing the Ethereal. 'Although that latter option may very well be improbable...' The recollection brought forth depressing thoughts. Perhaps Slayer was fucked either way. Even with Drake, the planet may not even hold the necessary materials needed to rebuild key components. All that tedious mucking about through sand could have potentially been all for naught.

The faint notion pissed him off.

Shamon stared silently at Slayer, neither of them having continued on their way to the awaiting caravan some city blocks away. Imperceptible to the common individual, Slayer noted Shamon’s leg muscles flexing in thought.

Eventually, another sigh left the Zebra. “I suppose you are right. I cannot blame you for what you did. While I personally may not have taken the same measures you have, you are from a place that seems to run on warfare. With no knowledge of how we function as a society, the only sound thing to do was to presume the worst. However, the matter of trust between us is now an unknown. For now.” Shamon gave a nod, mostly to himself, before he motioned back down the trail. “Shall we press on?”

Slayer nodded, glad to be rid of the gnawing feeling of disgust at his despicable lack of honour. Hearing the withdrawal of trust left an odd, unsettling sensation in the pit of Slayer’s stomach. For now though, as Shamon pointed out, he needed to focus on getting out of the desert, and into Equestria. ‘At least for now,’ Slayer thought. Shortly thereafter, the two were moving along once again, passing by shops both falling into vast disarray, and overloading with wealth from every nook and cranny.

The stark contrast caused Slayer to pipe up. "Is your city suffering from economic troubles?"

Shamon followed Slayer's ever-watching gaze to the run-down stalls paired next door to booming businesses. "Ah, not particularly. The empty shops and buildings you see are a result of the Diamond Dogs."

There was that name again. Slayer had heard it once before in passing of two guards while he had been waiting for the Elders to reconvene with him. "Diamond Dogs? Are these the hounds that we had fought in the desert?"

The Zebra gave a nod to a passing member of his kin, whom gave him a bow in return. The action made Slayer's mind tick. From everything that Slayer had been analyzing and observing, he was reaching an interesting conclusion: Shamon was either the leader of the Zebras--and therefore the Elders were merely his advisors whom he deeply respected--or Shamon was a member of some prominent royal family, and the Elders held the true power.

The assassin grumbled internally. He could have made a bloody fortune.

"Yes," Shamon said, bringing Slayer back to reality. "The very same. Over the past several months, multiple packs of Diamond Dogs have been regularly assaulting our cities, pillaging our caravans, and even taking prisoners as slaves within our borders. Nazar has been hit the hardest." He waved a hoof in front of him, as they had arrived back into the marketplace. His tone only became heavier than when he had begun talking about the Dogs. "What you see before you? This is how many of our kin we lose in a fortnight."

Slayer took a hard look. There were a lot of Zebras. At least a hundred from their current view, with no doubt hundreds more out of sight. How these seemingly unorganized beasts, these Diamond Dogs, achieved such successful raids in the span of two weeks befuddled the assassin, and perturbed him. He understood the value of a prisoner (he himself had taken a few on more than one occasion for credits and favours).

That didn't mean he condoned it. Especially when it was civilians being forced into slavery.

There was no honour in that.

"What about the Equestrians? They are your allies; surely they must provide some aid against these attacks?"

An almost mocking laugh left the Zebra, which surprised the assassin. "Ah, yes. Such great 'allies' the Equestrians are." He shook his head. "No, my kin and their kin do not share such a close relationship, despite us being of the same species. We have only recently established full trade, after all." Glancing back over his people, Shamon continued in the same dejected tone. “We’ve petitioned for assistance several times, each attempt coming back empty-hooved. The Equestrians want our wealth, not our troubles.”

Slayer was almost tempted to carry on the conversation, but realized there was anything of little importance he needed to voice. As such, another quiet (at least, what quiet that can surround one in a vibrant, thriving market) submerged the two as they inched closer and closer back towards the main gates of Nazar.

Soon Slayer saw the main gate in sight, and began to stride towards it with greater purpose. He was stopped, however, by Shamon drawing his staff out of seemingly nowhere and blocking the assassin’s progress. The hitman thankfully had enough control over his reflexes to not automatically snap the staff upon contact.

Glancing down irritably, Slayer’s body language perfectly depicted the silent asking. Shamon stepped in with a chuckle. “We did not stop in Nazar just for you, Slayer. We are here to gather supplies. Give me a few minutes to speak to my kin.” And before Slayer could hope to rebuttal, Shamon deftly trotted off, staff hung on his back.

‘I don’t even recall him bringing that staff with him,’ Slayer’s mind muttered in thought. ‘Where did he pull it from? A rip in the space-time continuum?’

With Shamon’s absence, Slayer noted that the sector of the city where he was now standing in had far less hustling of commoners dashing about. In fact, on the walkway Slayer found himself on in particular, there were hardly more than a dozen Zebras calmly milling about, most of them having the wear-and-tear of recent arrivals. Some carts stood idle just within the city gates, unattended save for a single guard.

The assassin smiled a devious smirk.

Upon closer examination as he approached, however, he realized one of the vessels was the same one he had rode in previously, and that the guard he faintly acknowledged was also part of Shamon’s caravan-guard. Slayer groaned under his breath. ‘Well, shit. So much for looting. If I got caught, there was no way I’d be able to negotiate my way out of it and retain my ride. Looks like I’ll have to settle for what I pocketed already.’ The smirk reemerged on his face. ‘At least until I have some quiet time with the wagon.’

Slayer patted his belt to assure himself that both the pouch stuffed snugly with golden coins was still on his person as well as the glass orb he decided to keep as a souvenir, and glanced around at his surroundings. Shamon could be gone a while; why not do a bit of shopping? He was starting to get peckish, after all.

With casualty and subtlety, Slayer mosied on over to a food-stand built into one of the structures. There were apparently no walls within the visible space, so one could take full view of how the Zebra prepared his items. From the look of the shop, Slayer presumed it to be a curry shop of sorts. Those had become a rising rarity back home, where planets focused their resources more on atmospheric defenses and less on civilian entertainments.

The owner of the establishment stood distracted, lazily cleaning some pots in a sink. Due to the open bar nature of the small store, Slayer walked right up to spitting distance and waited to be noticed. He had originally planned to just announce his presence outright, but he figured to have a little fun with the Zebra, and surprise him.

Slayer hated being surprised, but loved surprising others. ‘Karma will kill me one day.’

It took a while for the Zebra to begin noticing anything. For several seconds, he seemed content to lightly whistle a tune to himself as he scrubbed away at a pan. Slayer watched, breath held when suddenly the stallion’s nostrils flared. The Zebra paused, finally recognizing the Slayer-shaped shadow overtaking the sink. Slowly glancing up, the hitman met the equine and leaned in.

The end result was a girlish scream, and said owner of girlish scream swiftly hiding behind the bar of the store. Slayer’s eyes were alight with mirth, but he kept the humor out of his tone. “I apologize; I did not mean to frighten you.”

‘Bullshit,’ Slayer thought automatically with a grin.

“Oh holy divine, you nearly sent me to Tartarus.” Slayer’s curiosity rose significantly watching the middle-aged Zebra recover his wit. For one, he now had confirmation that the aliens had a religion of some sort, which was unusual to find amongst such... primitive people. The second thing Slayer noticed was the name Tartarus. That was another word that came from Earth. What was it, though? Slayer always had difficulty remembering.

“As I said, I apologize. I was merely seeing if you had anything for sale.”

Shaking his head to dispel the previous fright, the stallion fully heard Slayer’s words. “I do. My name is Wampum, and this is my shop. Anything edible in the desert, and beyond; I strive to provide.” An almost mock bow was given towards the assassin. “How may I assist you?”

At this point, Slayer was staring strongly towards the Zebra. He hadn’t finished debating on whether Wampum was a sleaze or not. There was something different in the tone, something darker than what Slayer had heard in passing. Perhaps a trick of the mind? He wasn’t so sure. Slayer decided to drop the more refined dialect he was using in favor of a more informal speech. “I need food. Meat, if you have it.”

A disgruntled look overcame the stallion. “You’re an omnivore, yes?” Slayer’s nod put him to ease, or rather, slightly more at ease. No doubt dealing with a die-hard meat-eater was much more nerve-wracking than someone who would be willing to substitute a cranium for a carrot. “In that case, I can provide. I only serve fish, however; we Zebras are not so barbaric as the Griffons to serve... red meat in our borders.”

The bounty hunter shrugged. Any meat was better than none. “Hell, I’ll take it. What meals you got with fish in it?”

“Depends on your budget.” Slayer smirked. ‘Ah, and here comes out his crafty side...’ Slayer responded by dropping the bag of coins he stole from the caravan onto the counter. Wampum raised a hungry eyebrow. “Ah, a big appetite. I like big appetites.”

Slayer rested one of his elbows on the bar, glancing over at a hanging menu. It was composed of a variety of scrawls that not even the translator could decode. Slayer merely chalked it up to the script being so informal that the archaic dead language stored inside the mainframe couldn’t compute it. Some words did become distinguishable, though; the squiggly lines actually formed coherent words that overlaid the original on Slayer’s HUD.

Wampum caught Slayer’s gaze. “Can you read Zebrican, Interloper?”

“Aye. Not well, though--” Slayer gave himself a moment to half-think, half-groan at the name of the natives’ language. It was so... obvious. “Wait, you know of me?”

“Of course.” From the expression adorned on the muzzle of Wampum, this was apparently a stupid question. Slayer wanted to smack said muzzle of said Wampum with a satisfying amount of force, but restrained himself. No antagonizing until he got his meal, dammit. “News is all over Nazar about how you saved Bwana Shamon from the sand devils.” The Zebra leaned in a conspiratory manner. “Good thing you did. Otherwise the prince’s uncle would have taken the throne, and our lands would fare even worse times.”

A hum of thought echoed in the assassin’s mindscape. ‘So, that title does signify that Shamon is royalty? That must mean that his father is, or rather was, the king. Really starting to regret not taking him for ransom now...’

“Why did Shamon take the throne instead of his uncle? I presumed the eldest relative gets first shot at the throne.”

“Normally, yes. However, in our culture, if there is a son of the King, then he gets the throne first, regardless of age. If there is more than one son, then the eldest takes the mantle first, and runs through the bloodline until there are no more direct heirs.” The stallion had returned to cleaning the remainder of his dishes. “If there are no direct relatives, then the Council of Elders elect either one of their own members, or a prestigious chieftain to become King.”

“Interesting.” Slayer, more often than not, didn’t exactly have time to pursue academics like history and philosophy. Those studies had to take a lesser role in turn of survival training and hand-to-hand combat. However, the allure of an alien civilization was too much for Slayer. Learning about the natives would help him survive, after all. There could be no harm in it.

Wampum nodded. “Yes, well, we can talk more if you’d like once I have your order down. What are you having?” Slayer glanced at the menu, and simply pointed to the first item he saw that said the word ‘fish’. The Zebra nodded once more. “Good choice. It’s my own recipe. I’ll have it done in a few minutes.”

As the Zebra began preparing some filets that he pulled from Fate knows where, Slayer took to lazily examining the street once more. There were a few more pedestrians trotting about, and two guards armed with tribal staffs patrolled diligently. Slayer raised his budding asking. “I heard of Diamond Dogs attacking and kidnapping your people for slavery, yes?”

A sad sigh left Wampum. “You have heard correctly. Those sand devils have been plaguing our kin for far too long.”

“Is there any sort of pattern to when they attack?”

“Ah, you notice the guards.” Slayer looked back to see Wampum watching the patrol with an unreadable expression. “The Diamond Dogs tend to strike a few hours before sunset on random days. Patrols start happening around this time daily.”

The hitman glanced up. The sun had perhaps three hours before it would reach the horizon and descend. No wonder the Zebras were on edge. Slayer watched passively for a few moments as Wampum ignited a wood fire, and began setting vegetables into a pan. “Go easy on the turmeric. It cuts right through me.”

An interested sound left the Zebrican chef as he cooked. “You recognize the spice? You must be someone who likes to cook.”

“Not particularly. I just remember the name of the ingredient the last time I ordered something spicy.” Slayer let out a snort. “Was stuck in that damn stall for an hour.”

“Heh, yes it does that to some.” Wampum raised an eyebrow towards the assassin, multi-tasking his cooking and his conversation abilities. “So where do you hail from, Interloper? Talk of the city is that you’re from the stars.”

Slayer offered a shrug. “All I will admit to is that I’m not from around here.”

“Well, it was a good thing you were where you were,” continued the Zebra. “Had the prince suffered the same fate as his father, our livelihoods would be at extreme risk. The prince’s uncle is not the... sharpest stallion, if you get my drift.”

Idly, Slayer jingled the bag of gold coins to himself in thought. “Shamon’s father? I presume he fell to Diamond Dogs?”

Another sad expression appeared on Wampum’s face. “Aye. The king had died protecting Nazar from a Diamond Dog assault two months ago.” Slayer was surprised; Shamon did not show the signs of someone who had lost their father so recently. With the Zebra’s heavy emphasis on healthy family ties, it must have been harder than usual on Shamon, Slayer thought. “Many of our kin admire Shamon’s strength for carrying on the position of his father. He represents us proud.”

The assassin nodded. “I’m sure he does.” Suddenly, Wampum set down a plate in front of Slayer. His eyebrows skyrocketed in appraisal at the speed. From the look and smell of the dish, it was cod fillets topped with onions, broccoli, and other various vegetables served over brown rice. “I have to say; this is an impressive spread.”

Wampum gave his mock bow once more. After chatting with the cook for a few minutes, Slayer considered that perhaps he had been expecting too much in the department of being a conniving sleaze from the Zebra. “You flatter me, Interloper. Now, about payment...”

‘Or not,’ Slayer quipped in amusement. ‘No matter the galaxy, no matter the species; money speaks the same language.’

As the warrior clipped the bit purse to his belt in order to properly fish out some coins and eat his meal, something happened. Vibrations began to rise from the earth, and cutlery in Wampum’s shop shook along with the tremors. The plate that held his sought-after food began bouncing. Slayer was confused. Was there an earthquake happening in a desert?

Abruptly, a distant civilian cried out in fear as a furry paw exploded out of the ground, seizing and dragging the helpless individual through the gaping hole. In the distance, a multitude of screams echoed out shortly after. Several more pits erupted from the sandstone floor, and what emerged set Slayer on edge.

“The Diamond Dogs are attacking!”

A tired sigh left Slayer. ‘Damn. I didn’t even get a chance to eat yet. Fuck you, Lady Luck. I expect to be able to eat after this...’

Zebras broke out in a mad panic at Wampum’s shout. The two guards that had been patrolling drew their staves and began engaging random Dogs that attempted to haul them underground. Civilians sprinted this way and that, scattering in alleys and alcoves. Slayer saw three Dogs approach with claws extended, muzzles baring vicious scowls and sharp teeth.

Without breaking his stare, Slayer casually fished in his bag, dropped more than enough wealth than what was probably needed onto the counter, and muttered ‘Keep the change’ to Wampum (who at this point was eyeing the Equestrian currency with an anxious expression). 

With this, Slayer drew his sword to meet the Diamond Dog that lunged for his throat.





Starbrought






> Chapter Eight - Conflictations (Part I)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------






Starbrought





Cadance tapped a hoof absentmindedly against the stone flooring of Drake’s cell. Neither had spoken for several minutes after she had presented him with her offer. The air wasn't necessarily terse, but gone was the easygoing expression amongst the captain. Drake’s eyes had yet to leave hers and it was starting to make Cadance feel anxious.

“Well?” She broke the silence impatiently, tired of him just staring at her. “What is your answer?” Drake shifted his position on the bench he was forced to call a bed. 

“Well for starters, your concerns aren’t too far off.” He spoke slowly, clearly considering his words. “There are several dangerous items aboard my ship, and if a team of investigators were not careful, they could bring harm to themselves or others.”

“What kind of harm?”
 
“The kind that could level a city in the blink of an eye.”

Cadance’s expression gradually shifted to one of horror as she tried, and succeeded, to imagine the sheer destructive power Drake was describing. She was quick to regain her composure however, and fixed him with a pointed stare. “That’s why I came to present you with my offer.”

“Are you sure it’s not because I’m unjustly imprisoned?” Drake huffed. 

“Didn't you attack the guard and stole from the castle?”

Drake remained silent for a moment, trying to find a way around the facts. He shrugged. “Eh, fair enough.”

“Do you accept?”

“Does a Veneschall decorate itself with the bones of its victims?” Cadance frowned at the metaphor. Drake rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Of course I do! All I have to do is escort your guards back to my ship so they don’t do something stupid by accident and you’ll grant me a full pardon. What kind of idiot wouldn’t take you up on that?”

Cadance smiled at him. “Excellent, I’ll make the necessary arrangements to have you released shortly. As long as everything runs smoothly, we’ll be leaving tonight.” She signaled for the guard stationed outside to open the door. “I’ll be back for you as soon as we’re ready.”

“One thing before you go, Your Poniness.” Drake rose to his feet and took a couple of steps toward her. “I’ll be needing my things back when we go. Including my weapons.”

“And why would we let you have your weapons back?”

“Aside from the fact that I’m getting a full pardon when this is all done?” A grin was spreading across Drake’s face, one that unsettled Cadance to an extent. “My crew and I were transporting some very unique cargo. And some of that ‘unique cargo’ is very much alive. I have no intentions of boarding my ship, only to be set upon by something that would gladly tear me limb from limb. Assuming the damn thing survived the crash, of course.”

“You were transporting living things?” Cadance was oddly surprised by that fact. “I thought you were a pirate.”

“And there’s a market for rare and exotic things,” Drake quipped with another shrug. “Gotta turn a profit.”

“Still doesn’t sound like piracy.” Cadance chuckled at his expression. “But if it’s as dangerous as you claim, I’ll make sure your possessions are brought along with us. I wouldn’t want to have the guards risk their safety if you’re so willing to do the dangerous work yourself.” Drake nodded, a look of relief on his face. “However, you will not be allowed access to them until we reach your ship and you’re headed inside.” Drake’s look of relief was replaced quickly by one of annoyance. “Understood?”

He gave a grunt of resignation and crossed his arms irritably. Smiling, Cadance left the cell, listening as the enchanted locks slid themselves back into place.

“I’ll send somepony for you when we’re ready to leave.” She glanced back at him. Drake was sitting once more on the bench-bed, his eyes glazed over as if lost in thought. A small hint of unease wormed its way into the back of her mind. She couldn’t quite place her hoof on it, but he had seemed a little too compliant with what she had told him. 

Time would tell.





Starbrought





“We need to talk.” Cadance excused herself from her conversation with a nearby dock worker and turned eagerly at the sound of Shining Armor’s voice, only to find the disgruntled Sergeant giving her an irritated look.

Her eagerness was quick to slip away. “What’s wrong?” Shining pointed a hoof in the direction of Drake, who was already attracting a small crowd of workers as he waved his cuffed arms about and leapt into the air. He seemed to be trying to entertain them, from Cadance’s perspective. “I don’t understand.”

“He’s what’s wrong.” Shining spared a glance back in the pirate’s direction, a look of contempt appearing on his face. “I know he’s an alien and that makes him interesting and all, Your Highness; but we don’t exactly need him to salvage this wrecked ship.”

“I’m afraid that’s where we’ll have to disagree, Sergeant Armor.” The two turned as the captain of the Tempest Serenade approached them. Her eyes were fixed on Shining, in a way that reminded him all too well of his drill sergeant from his ROTC days. “Captain Silver Flash. The Serenade is my ship, and mine alone. She does not belong to the guard, the crown, or anyone else. And I’m not about to risk her on salvaging some alien piece of crap unless I can be guaranteed that nothing’s going to happen to her.” Captain Flash pointed at Drake. “Who better to see to that than the alien in question?”

“How about an alien who didn’t feel the need to kick me?” Shining grumbled.

A frown was quick to form on Cadance’s face, and her eyes soon spotted a growing blue splotch. “He kicked you?”

“Right in the ribs!” Shining poked the sore spot tenderly. “He completely missed the armor.”

“To be fair, I was aiming for your head,” Drake chimed in as he returned from giving up trying to get one of the damn unicorns to undo his bindings. He had been gruffly ordered by a certain stallion to keep his mouth shut before they reached the Serenade. Obviously, he ignored the demand. “You just walk too fast. What are we talking about?”

“Guard boy here doesn’t like you,” Silver Flash said with a grin. 

“News flash of the decade right there. I guarantee it’s because he’s threatened by my masculinity.” An exaggerated sigh escaped him, and he crossed his arms the best that he could in a pitying style. “Must be because there are so few males around for him to compete with. It’s a curse, really.” If looks could do harm, Shining’s would have shredded Drake into tiny little pieces. This only seemed to fuel Silver’s sudden burst of laughter.

“I like this guy!” She turned back toward Cadance, affirming the statement with a stomp of her hoof. The twilight refracting off of the shiny hull of the Tempest Serenade illuminated her amusement. “He’s a nice change of pace from your ever-so-dour guards.” 

“Hey!”

“No, she’s right. You royal guard folk are an awful grim bunch.” Drake’s matter-of-fact tone served only to grate on Shining’s nerves. The soldier stormed off, heading toward some of his fellow guardsponies before he most likely wracked up a police brutality charge. A mock frown rose on Drake’s face as he turned to his two remaining sources of potential entertainment. “I think I offended him.”

“He’s a big stallion. He’ll get over it.” Silver huffed and turned toward him. A brief look-over was all she gave, before she let out a snort. “So, you’re the alien.”

“Whatever gave me away?” The pirate let out a quick laugh. “It’s the fashion sense, isn’t it. The stylings of the rich pale in comparison, don’t they?”

Silver grinned widely and held out a hoof toward him. “Finally! Someone not so serious! Captain Silver Flash, of the Tempest Serenade.” Drake accepted her hoof and shook it (with no small difficulty due to his bindings).

“Captain Drake Shields, of the Ethereal. Which is presently docked in a desert. Or so I’ve been told.”

“You’re a captain? Nopony told me this.” Silver shot Cadance a slightly irked look. The princess pretended not to notice.

“Probably thought it was unimportant,” Drake figured with a shrug. “Did they at least tell you I’m a pirate?”

“You’re a what?!”

He only grimaced. “I guess not.” As Flash spun about on Cadance to chew her out, Drake allowed his attention to wander away for a moment. He hoped that Yuri and Slayer hadn’t gotten themselves killed during the crash. It would be a pain to clean the ship if they splattered all over the inside of it. The thought caused Drake to let out a huff. “Now, I hate to be rude, but I’m very eager to get back to my ship. When will we shoving off?”

“As soon as my lazy crew gets their flanks into gear!” Silver shouted, drawing the attention of the ponies shuffling around the dock. It seemed she was done giving her verbal lashing against Cadance, who stood passively with cheeks burning. “Movement, you louts! I want movement! Any slob not doing double time will be forgoing their dinner this evening and be pulling nightwatch!” Her words inspired a flurry of motion as her crew, as well as the plainclothes guards moved quickly to finish preparations.

Drake raised an eyebrow at her choice of vernacular. Where had he heard that kind of speaking before? 'That accent was something I've only seen from dock-hands, and pirates—' A grin soon arose on his face as he connected the dots. “You’re a pirate too, aren’t you?”

“Ex-pirate, more like,” Flash murmured in irritation. Confusion raked her features as she turned back to Drake. “How did you tell?”

“It takes one to know one, and all that jazz,” Drake said dismissively. He examined the silent Princess in his presence. “I’m surprised the royalty hired you, to be honest. The impression they’ve given me shows quite a bit of disdain against us hard-working folk.”

Shining gave a derisive snort as he returned, two additional unicorn guards in tow. “Correction: we have quite a bit of disdain against individuals who attack the Royal Guard. Besides, miss Silver Flash here turned over a new-leaf a while ago.” He motioned towards said captain, who nodded.

“Aye, the life just wasn’t for me. Kept the ship though, and decided to work as a freelancer. Much better pay, much less risk. Also helps that Cadance and I go way back.” With a tired sigh, she waved one of her hooves towards the Serenade. It didn’t seem she wanted to dwell on her past, Drake mused. “Let us move onto my vessel. We ought to depart within the hour if my crew has any sense.”

Drake nodded once. “Sounds good to me.” As he made an attempt to move, he noticed—with some distinct frustration—that his legs were surrounded by a thin shimmer and refused to function. His eyes refocused towards the trio of horn-toting males below him, one of which had a smug smirk. “What gives?”

“Don’t forget you are still very much under arrest until we arrive at the Zebrican lands, prisoner.” Shining said as his horn glowed slightly brighter. The haze surrounding Drake’s legs intensified briefly, causing a wince of discomfort to arise on his face. “We’ve arranged your quarters to be in the cargo hold for the duration of this flight.”

An incredulous look was sent towards Cadance, who was frowning at Shining’s devilish grin. “Seriously? I understand needing to keep me in line, but I have rights, you know!” Drake paused, leaning in towards Flash. “Wait. Do I have any rights?”

Silver Flash merely shrugged. “Most likely. I haven’t been in Equestria for a while. Last time I was here, though, there was a law that prevented mistreatment against non-Equestrians that were held in custody.”

Drake returned his gaze to Cadance, who sighed. “Yes, that law still exists. And I suppose it does apply to you; you’re being given a full pardon once this is done, after all. We will assign you to a cabin, and just put it under watch.” Shining grimaced at this change of plans, but it vanished as her Highness turned to address them. “Will that be a problem, Sergeant?”

He diligently shook his head. “No, ma’am. We will keep a close eye on him.”

Flash nodded her assent. “The Serenade can house plenty more crew than it has, so there’s no reason to shove him into the hold.” An assistant quickly trotted up to whisper into her ear, before galloping off towards the airship. “Ah, we appear to be ready to disembark. Come along, and let us get situated. I think you and I have a lot to talk about, Mister Shields.”

Drake shook his head in bewilderment. “Why is it only the females aren’t jerks?”

“Watch your tongue!”

“Yes, father. I’ll behave, father.”

Shining’s groan of frustration echoed throughout the docks.





Starbrought





“That hurt, you feathered fuck! Take this!” With a yell, Yuri delivered a side-thrust kick into one of the griffin’s sides. The griffin grunted as the kick hit him full force, knocking the wind out of him and flinging him to the ground. The griffin struggled to get back up, before coughing and collapsing to his hind legs. A visible dent had appeared in his otherwise perfect armor. One of the griffins that had been attacking Yuri backed off to ensure his comrade was alright. 

Yuri looked at the small gash on his left leg, but before he was able to do anything else about it he became aware of the sword flying towards his face. He quickly raised the sword in his left arm that he had managed to disarm and swung, barely preventing the enemies' blade from taking off a chunk of his face.

“That was my brother, you piece of shit!” Sergeant Diamond's face was one of pure rage, and Yuri was pretty sure that he had some spittle on his face as he held the griffon back. The Sergeant, however, began applying even more force to his sword, forcing Yuri to back up a bit.

'Goddamn, this guy’s strong. I need to knock his ass out—fast—before he does any real damage to me. I’m not used to fighting with this kind of sword,' Yuri began to apply the same amount of force back at the enraged Griffin, forcing him back. His eyes looked to the right and the left of the Sergeant, trying to figure out where and who the next attack would come from.  'What was it my old drill instructor said? The angrier a person, the less amount of thought? I need to abuse that.'

“Heh, your brother needs some work on his form. Got too cocky.” Yuri smirked as he moved to slam his right knee into the Sergeant's chest. Diamond however anticipated this and moved his left talon towards Yuri’s leg to try to knock it out of commission. With Diamond's lower center of gravity, he used his position to off-set Yuri's stance by pushing his knee away, ending the sword-lock with a grunt from both sides.

Diamond caught his balance swiftly, but before he could counterattack, two privates leaped forward to fight Yuri. Both of their swords were drawn, and they were going after him in the classic pincer movement.

Yuri suddenly dropped to one knee, confusing, but not stopping the griffins currently charging at him. He put his right palm slightly above the ground, and watched as his glove glowed a dark red. As the griffins began to near him, he mentally prepared himself for what was about to happen. 'Wait... wait... Now!'

Yuri slammed his palm into the ground, and a low noise echoed throughout the room. The griffins continued their attack, their rage at their comrades injuries overpowering all other emotions. Yuri stayed on one knee as a tremor suddenly shook the floor around him, but not harming him. The griffins, who were going at a high speed suddenly found themselves off balance as the ground below them shook. The tremors stopped as suddenly as they started, and Yuri stood back up and took a quick account of the situation.

One of the guards was barreling towards him, but was off balance. The other one was off course and heading towards the wall. Diamond and the two other downed Griffins appeared unphased by the event, but had looks of shocks as they realized that Yuri was the cause of that.

'That worked better than expected,' Yuri thought as he began to run towards the off-balance griffin moving towards him. Deciding that he had sufficiently displayed his power, Yuri turned off his glove, choosing instead to ready his sword to dispatch his opponent stumbling in his direction.

The Griffin saw what Yuri was doing, and tried all that he could to get re-balanced like it was taught to him in the academy. But that was a lot easier said than done.

Yuri smirked as he turned his blade to strike with the flat edge. He could have just as easily used the sharp edge and simply killed the griffin, but that would leave a mess on his conscious and was honestly not something he wanted to do. As he neared the griffin, he saw fear in its eyes through the helmet. 'I wish it didn’t have to come to this, but they started it first.'

Yuri swung his sword towards the griffin's head, before turning the blade and slamming the hilt into what he could guess was the creature's temple. He could feel the armor dent as it tried to take the hit, but he felt no cracks in the skull or anything else that would identify that he had killed it. The griffin let out a grunt and fell over unconscious onto the cold stone floor. 

The other griffin had managed to regain his balance, but after seeing his squad-mate get pretty much destroyed, he had fallen back to where Diamond and his barely-standing brother were positioned a bit down the hallway. Yuri quickly reached down and took the sword from the griffin he had just defeated, fastening it to his belt as a spare. He stood back up and looked at his opponents. 

Diamond had a few nicks and dents in his armor, but looked fine otherwise. The other soldier that was still in fighting condition was a bit worse for wear, but still serviceable. He had been able to fight Yuri head-to-head several times, but he lacked the strength that Diamond had. The soldier that had been identified as Diamond’s brother was standing on three legs, with one of his talons on his ribs where Yuri had kicked him, and a slash mark on his breastplate where Yuri had sliced him.

Yuri suddenly bent down, stretching as his back popped several times. “So, Sergeant Diamond: let me ask you something.” He cracked his knuckles rather loudly before putting his sword-less hand over his mouth as he yawned.

Diamond’s face went from one of pure anger to one of annoyance and confusion. “What do you mean ‘let me ask you something’? Why the hell would I talk to you when you just knocked out two of my soldiers and hurt my brother. Are you a fucking moron?”

“Why yes, I am. How did you know?” Yuri smirked as he saw a blood vessel pop in the Sergeants face. “But take this into consideration; I’ve managed to take out three of your men, and the only thing you’ve done to me is stab me in the leg, which would hurt more if you would have done it with a butter knife.” Yuri motioned to the small gash in his leg. “My question is simple: What happens after this?” 

The Griffin’s face turned stone-cold. “There is no after this." Cocking his head to the side, he addressed his soldiers. "Get out of here. Find reinforcements and bring them back. I'll delay the creature until you do. Go!"

The two griffins looked at each other, before saluting and moving down the hallway. Diamond's brother attempted to say something, but after a harsh glance, he shut his mouth and walked down the hallway. Leaving his only other brother to fight against a creature that had managed to take down nearly half of their squad. 

Diamond looked back as they slowly moved away from him down the hallway. He turned his attention back to Yuri, who had not tried to attack and was just… standing there.

“So Diamond, what exactly are you trying to do here? I mean, I respect you for deciding to fight me alone and allow your comrades to escape, but all of this was completely unnecessary.” Yuri gestured to the knocked out guards on the floor with their battered-armor plainly visible. “None of this would have happened if you would have let me explain myself. But no, you had to try and arrest me.”

“Oh, don’t pretend your innocent in this," Diamond snapped. "Explain this then; what happened to the soldiers that were guarding the room you escaped from?” 

“Those two? They're both taking a little nap.”

The griffin's pupils dilated. “They’re alive?”

An indignant expression crossed Yuri's face. “Of course they are. What would I gain from killing the first two members of your race that I meet? I knocked them out because I had no idea how they would react when they saw me. It’s not everyday that you meet an alien, you know.” 

Diamond’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, before quickly returning back to his infamous deadpanned-expression. “You’re an alien? That would explain some things.”

“It usually does. Now Diamond, I’m going to make you an offer. I let you go, and you tell your superiors that Yuri Lawrence of the Cerberus Pirates wishes to speak with them.” Yuri slid one of his swords into its scabbard as a sign of peace. 

“And if I don’t go?”

“Simple. I’m going to make you have a very bad day, and tell your superiors myself.” Yuri’s face darkened as he put his hand on the sword he had just put away. “Are you going to make the right call and do this peacefully, or are you not?”

Diamond stared at Yuri, before doing something that surprised the man who had been a pirate for years.  He laughed. “Heh... Ha ha ha!” Diamond’s laugh echoed around the hallway. “Oh, I haven't laughed that hard for a while! Let me save you the trouble of going to my superiors, because I already know the answer. They’re going to take a look at you, and kill you." Abruptly, the griffon slammed a curled-up fish against the floor. "What don’t you understand?! You escaped from a maximum security cell, drained half the base's power and knocked out four guards! The only thing you’re going to get is a body-bag.”

While Diamond had been going off, he had failed to notice Yuri slowly moving towards him, his head down in the shadows. By the time he had finished his monologue, Yuri had entered his strike range. Diamond finally saw what was happening, but before he could react Yuri spoke.

“That was a very nice speech, but you failed to answer my question compadre.” Yuri put his hand on his sword and drew it slowly, letting the metal screech against the scabbard. His glove also began to glow again, but gaining intensity at the same slow speed as his sword. “Yes, or no?” His sword was fully drawn and his glove was glowing once again like Celestia's sun. 

“No. No in a thousand languages you big—” Yuri decided not to let him finish his sentence and stabbed his sword right at Diamond's face. Diamonds eyes grew wide as he rapidly moved to parry the attack, causing Yuri’s blade to be deflected harmlessly to the floor. Yuri then sent a roundhouse kick towards Diamond's right side and smirked as he felt his leg slam into the target.

Diamond grunted as the impact forced him sideways. Yuri raised up his sword to parry the slash Diamond had sent at him. Sparks flew out as the blades hammered against one another. Yuri and Diamond continued to duel as their blades slammed into each other, parrying and blocking strikes that would have easily drawn blood if they would have hit their target.

Diamond may have known what he was doing, but he lacked the speed and technique that Yuri had learned from years of fighting as a pirate. Yuri began to apply even more pressure on Diamond, forcing him back and further down the hallway. Yuri began throwing kicks and punches  too, and soon Diamond could no longer attack without the risk of being hit, stabbed or both. 

Yuri’s sword sent strike after strike at Diamond, who had somehow avoided being hit with any serious blow. Slowly however, his defense began to erode as Yuri’s constant strikes weakened him and exposed holes in his defense. And Yuri was not one to pass up an opportunity.

As soon as Diamond's sword moved to block the swing from Yuri’s blade that was aimed at his face, Yuri stepped forward and slammed his right leg into Diamond's back leg, forcing the Griffin off balance. Yuri turned his blade to the flat side and felt the force as it impacted with Diamond's temple, stunning the Sergeant. Yuri quickly activated his glove and slammed it right where he thought Diamond’s ear canal was. Diamonds eyes went wide was he realized what was about to happen.

“This is going to hurt a lot... ” Yuri’s glove whined, before delivering a concentrated blast of sound directly into Diamond's ear canal. The attack only lasted a moment, but that was all that was necessary. As soon as Yuri released his hand, Diamond slumped to the floor, shaking in pain as he held his ears, screaming his beak off in pain. Small amounts of his own blood was dripping off of his hands from his ears. Yuri walked over and stood above the shaking griffin.

“If you can hear me, I truly am sorry for that. I know what that feels like; trust me. Now, I’ll be taking that communication device from you now.” Yuri slid his hand into Diamond's back and pulled out the P.R.I.C.K. He gave the device a look-over, before shoving it into his pocket.

He turned around and saw the carnage that the battle had produced. Three griffins were incapacitated, with random bits of armor and blood scattered around the room. The light was flickering due to being hit with a sword from one of the griffins. It was not a very pretty sight, but Yuri had seen a lot worse, and most of those involved Slayer.

“I really do not envy whoever has to clean this up. Anyway, let’s go a bit further down the rabbit hole or however that old quote goes.” Yuri turned around and began to walk down the hallway, not sure of what was to come.

'Figures. The one alien race I meet in my lifetime and they try to arrest me. And then try to kill me. Lovely way to start off a day after finding yourself in a prison cell. God, I hope the others aren't as deaf to reason as these morons. Otherwise, this is going to get very nasty.'





Starbrought





A sickening crunch of a sound echoed through the streets as Slayer cut down yet another of the Diamond Dogs, his katana singing with the death of the mutt. After dealing with the initial strike-team that combated him in front of Wampum’s shop, Slayer had rallied the nearby Zebra warriors behind him to rush into the depths of Nazar to defend against the hostile siege. He had several thoughts during his sprinting through the now war-torn metropolis to just hijack a map of the world, cut his losses, and set off for Equestria alone midst the chaos. Each consideration of escape that arose, however, was shot down with one simple phrase:

Shamon was in the city still.

It did not take a degree in thermonuclear physics to comprehend that Shamon was the most useful native Slayer had encountered, as of that moment. He was trusting, knowledgeable, didn’t grate excessively on the assassin’s nerves, and most importantly of all; Shamon was a member of royalty, and would be worth his weight in gold if the prince ever lost his usefulness. To abandon the Zebra would be foolhardy, hence Slayer now taking the burden of saving a race of striped equines onto his own shoulders.

At the same time, even if Shamon wasn’t worth the effort, Slayer couldn’t exactly allow the Diamond Dogs to besiege the Zebra’s capital. Uncaring about political repercussions, the increased slave population spike would fuel the Diamond Dogs. And considering how they had a tendency to attack Slayer, letting them become stronger would be a very idiotic mistake.

Slavery. The word left a bitter aftertaste in his mind when Slayer thought the word. How cowardly one must be, to force another into your will, that you are not able to lead unless you have them in chains. Slayer didn’t think of himself much as a revolutionary or an abolitionist, but slavery was something that most definitely irked the bounty hunter to no end.

So while Slayer was still not exactly one-hundred percent onboard with why he was risking the only hope for Drake’s survival on a bunch of talking horses, he knew for certain that he was not about to let these civilians—strange they may look—be sent into slavery.

Not if he could stop it.

A Diamond Dog similar to the appearance of a pitbull lashed out with its spear, attempting to puncture a nearby Zebrican soldier. The equine nimbly batted away the attack with his staff, unleashing a quick retaliation of his own across the jaw of the animal. Slayer didn’t hesitate in drawing one of his Sabres and opening fire, charring the fur on the unarmored Dog and killing the beast instantly. The Zebra nodded his thanks, before shouting a warcry in a phrase that Slayer’s translator couldn’t transcribe and charged further into the fray.

They were currently in the marketplace where he and Shamon had walked both towards and away from the Elder Council. Slayer figured that, with this size of an attack, the Dogs had plans to outright capture the city. In order to do that, they’d need to break the will of the Zebrican people by either killing or capturing the leaders. Those being the Elders, and Shamon. If the Zebras ever wanted any chance of making out of the assault alive, Slayer would need to form a counteroffensive, spearhead the defense, and rescue the notability before they met an untimely demise.

The bazaar was in disarray; everywhere one would look, there were enormous piles of debris, varying numbers of broken bodies, and the smell of despair and war lofting in the breeze. ‘It is almost peaceful, in a horrifically poetic sort of way,’ the bounty hunter pondered.

Slayer was unperturbed, and almost felt at home as he ducked under the heavy swipe of a lumbering Alpha. The battlefield and the shade was where the assassin felt most comfortable. He’d take a firefight over negotiations any day of the year. It was his element. He was born in it. Working quickly, Slayer capitalized on the unbalanced beast before him and drove his sword into the gullet of the Dog. It took less than a few seconds before the Alpha laid slumped over, dead in its pool of gurgled blood.

Apparently, that was enough. The remnants of the market’s forces fled due to lack of leadership, burrowing and tunneling their way to other parts of the city as they fell back. Sighs of relief left many of the warriors as they carefully lowered their staves a smidge. For then, the area was secure.

Slayer did a brief count; surrounding him was over a dozen Zebrican warriors, all armed with staves (they had refused taking up the fallen Dog’s spears for proper defense, which infuriated Slayer beyond all belief). Two unfortunate casualties resulted from carelessness on both his own part and theirs. The corpses were being treated by a nurse, backed by a witch doctor who muttered strange syllables in prayer. Slayer silently looked away.

One of the troops approached Slayer with a taut expression. The bounty hunter blankly realized that these Zebras had no official ranking system that was visible, so whether this was an officer or a raw recruit standing before him was unknown. “Interloper. Dogs have been sighted all over Nazar. Our brothers are doing everything they can, but it seems to be a losing battle... Many innocent lives are lost.” The Zebra’s features drooped, and he seemed almost pained to continue speaking. “What... what do you recommend we do?”

Slayer blinked. The look in the eyes of nearby equines in earshot of the query gave shocked glances at the exhausted Zebra warrior. Slayer had a hunch that the Zebras were a very xenophobic race, and that asking for help from an outsider was no small feat. Slayer knew they would only do it if they felt like they had no other option. “There is nothing we can do for your friends.” Depression set in almost immediately on some of their striped faces. Slayer quickly pressed on lest they lost the will to fight. “The best way we can help them, though, is to get to your Elders ASAP, and have them survive the raid—”

Slayer turned, and swiftly unloaded a bolt of energy on reflex at a rogue Dog who attempted to snatch an unsuspecting civilian. It fled with a yelp and a blackened claw. A snort departed from Slayer’s nose as he inspected the surprised expression on the Zebra’s face. “If we keep them alive, the Dogs cannot take the city and they’ll retreat.”

The stallion frowned. “Is there truly nothing we can do directly? Anything?” He seemed almost desperate. Worry reflected in the warriors’ moods as they began huddling around the metallic giant as if he was some beacon of victory. Slayer felt pity, which was not the easiest thing to rise out of his chiseled heart. It was the same sensation he had felt after his confrontation with the Elders; these Zebras knew little of warfare. It went against their very way of life, as stupid as it was. The hitman sighed, watching some Zebras establish a perimeter while they gathered soldiers from nearby districts for a push.

“Without a way to communicate with them and coordinate their tactics, no.” Slayer tapped a finger against his thigh, staring quietly at a soldier being treated for serious lacerations and a broken foreleg. Their lack of medical technology meant the Zebra wasn’t going to make it. Slayer couldn’t help but feel some regret at setting his satchel down in the cart when he arrived; the medical braces and their inherent nanobots could have probably saved the lad’s life.

A few moments later, the casualty count rose to three. Slayer turned away again, this time much faster than the previous. He made a solid effort to keep his voice smooth and calm. Yet another life lost to tyranny. “Once we’ve secured the Elders, the rest of you can go back into the city to support your allies. I can stay behind and defend them myself until the siege ends.”

Despite the situation they were finding themselves in, the Zebra Slayer was conversing with gave a glance laced with suspicion. Even with death threatening them, they were—metaphorically speaking—looking a gift horse in the mouth (later, Slayer mused, he would remember the irony of that thought and snort to himself in amusement).“And how do we know that you will not act on your threat of their lives this time?”

The assassin’s response was to merely grab the stallion’s mane and tug him forward. The Zebra shouted for his brothers to assist him, before a spear flew past where he was standing mere milliseconds before and dug into the earth, the force of the throw still shaking the shaft. Slayer leaned back, and fired at a wooden support pillar. Above them some metres to Slayer’s right, a Diamond Dog scout—minus one javelin—felt his balcony give out, and he plummeted to his death. Slayer glanced down at the still-alive Zebra, and raised an eyebrow. “Because if that was the case, I would have let you die.”

The Zebra nodded, eyes as wide as saucers. Other soldiers copied the expression. “V-very well. Uh...” Slayer watched him awkwardly dig in the ground with his hoof, scuffing at the sandstone underfoot. “I- ah... thank you, Slayer.” The armoured gladiator gave a silent nod of his own. Slayer didn’t make a comment about the Zebra finally using his name, although that didn’t stop quiet muttering to briefly surge through the ranks. It was a sign of respect, and there was no reason to call the Zebra out on it.

Slayer flexed his empty hand, rechecking his numbers. They now had eighteen soldiers; it would have to be enough. Turning to address his makeshift horde of troops, Slayer played the role of commander since no-one competent stepped up to the plate. “Alright, we’re going to move uphill towards the Council! Stay vigilant, and keep close.” His eyes squinted in the dusk. “Watch where you tread. If you choose not to follow my orders, then you will die. Plain and simple.”

Determined yet uneasy shouts met him as they began forming a convoy narrow enough to traverse the cramped alleyways under Slayer’s supervision. They needed organization if they wanted to succeed, and if Slayer left them to do an infiltration mission solo—which was something he would have preferred—then there wouldn’t be enough manpower left to sustain the city when all was said and done.

So, Slayer turned them into a military flight, making adjustments in spacing due to the equines’ build. Satisfied with the set-up he had established, Slayer took point and marched them deeper into the bowels of the attack.

It only seemed to get worse the closer they crept. Gaping holes marred the once sand-swept stone of Nazar and made the entire city very reminiscent of Swiss cheese. Stands once brimming with fruits, vegetables, and other foodstuffs now laid in broken heaps, their contents trampled underfoot. More bodies littered the roads; Zebras sprawled out in grotesque poses from the heat of battle. Slayer frowned, noting the occasional unconscious Dog that was left from the struggle. He was quick to slit their throats by beheading the beasts with his sword despite weak protests from his band of non-merry men.

There would be no respect for slavers.

‘Even with their lives at stake, the Zebras draw no blood. I intensely dislike quasi-pacifists, almost more than actual pacifists. They’re no better than fools. Because at least a fool is willing to stand up wholeheartedly for what they believe in.’

Far off in the distance, a harsh cry of pain and woe rocked the earth. The Zebrican warriors were unnerved, but whenever Slayer glanced at them they put on a brave face. Showing weakness to an outsider was (no doubt) an atrocity, and the ‘Interloper’ was probably no different despite his current actions of trying to save their ass.

The assassin thought quietly to himself as the party stomped their way through silent streets. ‘Sounded like a Zebra. Given the direction of the scream, it wasn’t from the Council’s tent. No signs of any roving war-parties. Good. I need to remain vigilant, however, and eliminate their means before they can disrupt the Zebras. If they stampede and get themselves killed, I don’t know if I really can save this city, Shamon, and the Elders by myself...’

Slayer was not one to ever second-guess himself and his capabilities, but given the circumstances, it could be understood—

Abruptly, Slayer stopped. He stopped so suddenly that the Zebras nearly collided with the behemoth as he froze in revelation. There were no visible war-parties. That didn’t mean there weren’t any. Quickly, the pirate began analysing the surrounding area, anxiety starting to worm its way into his heart.

It was dead still. Even the distant cacophony of battle and bloodshed seemed muffled and muted from their current position in an utterly massive courtyard, foreign to Slayer’s memories of his route and exposed. The only sound he could hear was the anxious breathing of the soldiers behind him, and uneasy shuffling as hooves clicked softly against stone. Exposed. Silence. Something wasn’t right.

“Ambush!”

Slayer moved before he even felt the ground shake.

And like that, the literal dogs of war sprung to life. Second-story windows previously shuttered flew open with crashes, Dogs poised at the ready with javelins already in their grasps. Diamond Dogs clawed their way viciously out of the earth, enclosing the Zebra formation. The spot where Slayer had just been standing became occupied by a mastif of an Alpha resembling a grey wolf unearthing itself. Heaved behind it was a menacing club interwoven with a mix-mash of broken blade shards. The Zebras were unequal in numbers, weapons, and strategic placement. Slayer cursed under his breath.

Zebras pressed against one another, their camaraderie fueling their courage and preventing them from fleeing on instinct. Dogs steadily began suffocating the mass of warriors, their spears threatening to nick and impale any who didn’t obey. Slayer watched, his mind calculating and processing and planning. And suddenly, the Alpha looked to the assassin. And dragged its free claw across its throat.

Rationally, Slayer did the only thing he could do when there were severe odds stacked against him. Slayer respected honour and integrity (the irony of him being a pirate due to technicality not lost on him), but in light of what was happening before him, the marauder decided he had no choice but to suspend his law in turn of survival.

So he kicked the Alpha in its family jewels. Hard.

Instantly, battle erupted. Zebras broke ranks, ignoring the rules Slayer had set not ten minutes prior in favor of panic and the fighting spirit that only arose from cornered rats. Staves deflected spears, and the unexpected surge forced the perimeter of the stunned Diamond Dogs to break like glass against stone. As the towering Dog hunched over and crumpled to his knees in agony and shock, Slayer quickly drew his blade to strike.

A javelin whistled by the assassin’s visor, forcing him to redirect his attention. The poised spear-throwers used their pila-esque devices in a mad attempt to pierce Slayer’s armor, unleashing such a violent torrent that Slayer had no choice but to take cover behind an upturned cart. Decisively evading a silo that nearly turned him into a Slayer-kabob, Slayer prepped both of his Sabre Shots and began unloading hell, fire, and brimstone. Bolt after bolt pelted the shelters where the Dogs hid; some unable to dodge in time and suffered fourth-degree burns while they tumbled out of the view-ports as a result.

At this point, the Alpha was recovering. But Slayer couldn’t deal with the Dog because if he deviated even for a moment on his suppressive fire, the javelin-toting Diamond Dogs would skewer the man, or at bare minimum leave significant wounds. Or worse, focus on the unarmored Zebra ranks and massacre them. Realizing he had numbers at least willing to heed him, Slayer barked a swift order, and some Zebra not in the midst of battle broke off from the melee to buck in the doors to the buildings.

They quickly entered, and soon those elevated Dogs were under close-quarter attack, and thus fell swiftly from the unanticipated flank. An amused grin rose on Slayer’s face. ‘It seems I underestimated these equines. Give them some good leadership and tactics, and they aren’t half bad of a fighting force—’

A large amount of air left the bounty hunter as the Alpha lunged forward and struck, balling its claws and driving its freshly-made fist into Slayer’s gut with the equivalent power-level of a freight-train. The force was strong enough to actually lift Slayer off the ground briefly, sending him into a near-tumble that resulted with his fall being broken by an empty barrel. Slayer recovered quickly, however, and readied his katana to engage the pack leader.

“You little shit,” the hitman muttered. The Alpha seemed almost amused that the big metal giant was speaking in the weird language of the little horsies. Granted, he couldn’t understand a word of it, so the insult was utterly lost on the brute. In reply, the Dog simply hefted his nice, weathered mahogany club and swung.

Ducking under with grace nearly resembling a dancer, Slayer pirouetted on a single foot and made a clean gash across the abdomen of the Alpha from a kneeling viewpoint. The stinging aftereffect annoyed the Dog, and the beast showed its irritation by back-handing the assassin as if he was a fly. At least, it would have, if the Dog could figure out where the funny-talking metal thing went.

Without warning, the Dog’s heel exploded in pain, forcing the animal to wildly and blindly lash out backwards as it fell to a knee. Slayer had spiraled around the Alpha’s bumbling feet and arrived behind the animal. While he may have had an opening for the Alpha’s head, Slayer’s crouched positioning forced him to only be able to attack the achilles heel. The unexpected slash from the Dog rapped the top of Slayer’s visor, the momentum sending Slayer rolling backwards into a defensive stance.

Thankfully, through sheer dumb luck, the claws didn’t bypass the visor and meet Slayer’s face. As such, the extent of the blow was head trauma and a faint obscuring of sight, but such a feeble thing wasn’t going to stop the famed ‘Crimson Menace’. Well, maybe. There were three Alphas now favoring a limp on their right sides, at least in the hitman’s shaky vision. It passed just in time for Slayer to see in high-definition the Alpha’s club veering towards his brain cavity.

Slayer was thankful adrenaline worked like it did, otherwise he never would have been able to smoothly roll to the Alpha’s left, evading the weapon by a hair’s breadth. This Alpha seemed larger than usual, its height besting Slayer by a full two feet, roughly. Such a difference in points of gravity was working in the bounty hunter’s favor so far, but too many blows from the Dog would crush him into a meaty paste, armour or no.

Another decapitating swing flew towards Slayer, and once more he ducked under. Three quick swipes from Slayer’s sword criss-crossed the chest of the leering animal, seeming only to increase its ire. The Dog abruptly released its crude tool, and lunged for the assassin with claws bared.

Keratin met metal, and Slayer backpedaled from the strength and ferocity of the barrage. The Dog was fighting differently from the Alphas he had met in the city; the creature fought on all fours, and the combat form held no finesse, nor style. It was reminiscent of the Alpha Slayer had killed back in the desert when defending the Zebras. It was the spirit of a frightened, angry caged beast.

A broad slash somehow succeeded in knocking the katana from Slayer’s grasp, forcing the beloved blade to skitter and clatter across the stones to an inactive section of the yard some distance away. Slayer looked back grimly as he put some distance between him and the feral Dog and raised his fists in a fighting posture.

‘Wait. My Sabres!’

A demented grin rose on the warrior’s face as he swiftly reached down to snatch the dual pistols on his hip, only to find nothing. Fear settled itself into an icy ball within Slayer’s heart. Almost comically, Slayer glanced over, back towards the wreckage of the barrel he had crashed through earlier at the start of the battle, to see his two Sabre Shots sitting neatly amongst the debris. He turned back to see the Dog pounce, and being bowled over to the ground.

Instinct overrode thought as Slayer began driving heavy shots of his fists into the Alpha’s muzzle and ribs. Claws attempted to further leave gashes in Slayer’s Suit, doing everything it could to carve a path through the armour to the funny-talking metal thing that was becoming a real threat. As the Diamond Dog made an effort to clamp its enormous bone-crushing jaw onto the man’s throat, Slayer quickly intercepted the attack with a hand under and against the jaw. Tightening his knuckles, Slayer sent an uppercut to the Alpha’s throat with his free hand, and bought him some breathing room. 

The warrior took his chance, and slipped an armored foot between him and the sputtering, wild beast in front of him. With a heave and a grunt of effort, Slayer succeeded and shoved the creature a short distance away. Taking the initiative as usual, Slayer rose to a kneeling position and pivoted, spinning and slamming his back heel into the muzzle of the Alpha.

The Dog tumbled from the blow, and Slayer began a mad dash for his katana. While not as effective in this situation as the Sabres might of been, the blade was much closer and Slayer had a much higher chance of rearming himself. Doing a forward roll and obtaining his weapon, he spun and cut at the Alpha at his heels.

 Only to find nothing there but a freshly-dug hole.

“What the...” A claw burst forth from the stone walkway and seized Slayer’s heel, intent on bringing the assassin down into the Alpha’s home territory. The hitman was having none of that, and made his own intentions known to staying topside by driving his free heel into the paw of the Dog to release him. A growl seemed to shake the ground under him, and Slayer wildly flung himself out of the way.

It appeared to be in the nick of time, because what rose instantly after was not just the Alpha. Four other Dogs accompanied the leader of the ambush with spears brandished, and they were fresh spirits raring for battle. Slayer spared a minute glance at the surrounding discord; the Zebras were valiantly trying their best to keep the other Dogs at bay, but they would not last for much longer without aide. Slayer was exhausted; the pressure and the never-ending tide of battle was starting to fatigue the pirate. But Slayer could not afford to start getting sloppy now. He warily raised his katana, and prepared himself for more bloodshed.

The Alpha muttered something darkly, but the tone and articulation was too guttural for the translator to even attempt to narrow. Its canine accomplices nodded with grim smiles and murder in their eyes. Slayer kept himself grounded, keeping at least a part of his senses busy on checking for any tremors underfoot in case of a surprise attack. Things were not looking good. He needed to think of something, fast.

And just like that, as if a silent prayer had been answered (though Slayer never remembered making a plea), a hefty pebble the size of the assassin’s fist flew over Slayer’s head and nailed the Alpha in the eye. The Dog howled in agony, the sharp rock having no doubt blinded the beast from that side. Another stone flew and hit one of the other Dogs squarely in the nose, and another flew soon after. 

A warcry sounded off behind Slayer. He trusted his senses, and hit the deck.

Almost immediately after, a pure hail of rocks and stones launched over Slayer’s prone form like a shower. The Diamond Dogs throughout the precinct, having not expected such an assault, were exposed and therefore battered relentlessly by chunks of minerals. Slayer chanced a look behind him, and a triumphant smirk grew on his face.

Standing on the rooftops across the way were over two-dozen Zebras, each armed with several stones and slings that quickly found themselves ripping through the air with a surprising amount of velocity. And in the center, picking out particular targets to focus on, was none other than the prince himself.

‘Shamon, you lovable little equine you.’

Said Zebra raised his hoof and did a brief parody of a salute towards Slayer. With that, multiple Zebras rushed in from all sides and swept up the remaining Dogs with decisive ease. The Alpha and its small vanguard fled before anything more could be done, though Slayer felt immense satisfaction at the look of pure unrelenting rage in the Diamond Dog’s unbloodied eye.

Slayer began picking himself off the ground, as Shamon galloped up to the bounty hunter with relief. How the Zebra got to the ground so fast was a question the hitman ignored. “Slayer! What are you doing here? I did not realize you would be in the city still, much less fighting the Diamond Dogs and leading some of my own kin into the fray.”

Despite the strange sensation of lightheadedness settling into the back of Slayer’s mind for a temporary respite, he kept a cocky tone to his voice as he retrieved his Sabres with Shamon trailing behind in bewilderment. “And leave you to have all the fun? I don’t think so.” The Zebra merely cracked a grin, which was a thankful expression to see in spite of the serious situation they were both in.

The courtyard now truly looked like a battlefield. Corpses haphazardly decorated the floor of the surrounding sector, belonging now to both Dog and Zebra. Both Slayer and Shamon looked on quietly, feeling the gravity of the area. There were casualties. Severe casualties. Of the eighteen Slayer had led in, only six remained. The marauder couldn’t help but feel as if he had led them into a suicide charge, an ambush.

Were the blood of a dozen Zebra lives now on his hands? He wasn’t sure.

There was a faint feeling of shock echoing in Slayer’s system. Killing civilians was a waste of time if it wasn’t a contract, and generally—unless desperate for supplies or cash—was personally frowned upon by Slayer due to the unhonourable circumstances surrounding the scenario. But this, was different. It was as if he had indirectly killed them, as if he had led those poor souls with not a lick of comprehension of why things were happening, gallantly into their deaths without a second thought. He should have ordered them during the heat of battle to maintain ranks, or to take a defensive position, or something. Instead he let them stampede, to break file. And as a result they got killed.

Slayer didn’t know why he was feeling the empathy that he was. He had killed a lot of people. A lot. Even civvies, from time to time. But this was an instance where he killed people without meaning to, and when he had good intentions. As a result, he wasn’t exactly positive what to feel. Instead, Slayer contented himself to almost impassively watch the bloody corpses of the Zebras be blessed by chanting shamans, and mourned by wounded brothers.

“Slayer? Are you all right?”

Said assassin duly noted the concern in Shamon’s voice as he returned from his internal musing and glanced down. Once more, Shamon’s stoically impassive face (one that really only came from being royalty, probably) was adorned, though this was marred by a tint of worry. Was it for him, Slayer wondered. Probably not. “Yeah. I’m peachy. Nothing some buffing out and maybe some therapy won’t fix.”

There wasn’t exactly any singular emotion in Slayer’s voice; it was a mixture of so many different feelings, the tone and halfhearted joke ended up sounding strained and cold, instead of confident and easygoing. For a moment, Slayer uselessly flapped his lips together. “I... I didn’t expect there to be an ambush. I’m sorry—”

Despite not explaining why, Shamon rose a hoof to stop Slayer. “Stop. Don’t you dare apologize.” The force in Shamon’s voice halted any possibility for a rebuttal. “I know what you’re feeling.” The prince quietly glanced over his charges again; some were breathing heavily, some were crying, and some were doing neither. His eyes hovered over the latter the longest. “They died to protect Nazar. You leading them into battle, and them falling is not your fault. Never think otherwise.” Slayer presumed the words were true, and in fact knew them to be true deep in his heart... but these sudden, foreign waves of grief were starting to overcome the pirate and his rational thoughts.

He sunk down cautiously and took a seat on the hard surface of the yard, refusing to drop his guard. This had happened before, one very long time ago. He had led similar troops into a similar situation, and in that period of time he was most definitely at fault as he watched his allies being gunned down due to his mistakes. Was this any different? Slayer couldn’t tell.

Shamon motioned to a nearby soldier. “Get the Interloper some water. Everyone, guard this uwanja until we’re ready to continue on.” Zebra warriors silently nodded, their own agony at seeing so many of their kin dying in combat dulling their want to speak. A small flask soon found itself in Shamon’s hoof, and he passed it to Slayer, who gave a nod of thanks and drank without a word.

Shamon had seen this type of shock before, and knew that giving the alien time to recover his wits was the best thing, even if it meant delaying in rescuing the Elders. As Slayer stewed in thought, and the distant screams and battle-cries rode the faint breeze through the now-bustling plaza, Shamon was still analysing the entire scope of things; Slayer had stayed and fought. He could have just as easily left the first chance he had, but instead that armoured alien remained. Was this it? Was Slayer truly the one who would end the misery of the Zebrican people by slaying the Diamond Dog scourge afflicting their kin since nearly the beginning of history? 

If their current predicament wasn’t so severe, Shamon would have smiled in hopeful joy.

A tired sigh left Slayer as he took another drink to sate his thirst. The battle had really done a number on his psyche, and the cool refreshing water was helping to bring Slayer’s senses back into focus. Bruises and slight penetrations in his armor were thankfully all the injuries Slayer had endured through that fight, save for the slightly-splintered visor. It could have been worse. A lot worse.

Passing the canteen back, the assassin stood stiffly and cracked his back. To the prince’s credit, he didn’t flinch as the loud pops echoed in the forum. Slayer had to get back into things, and put the nipping guilt behind him; the longer he stayed out of the thick of things, the harder it’d be to stop the Dogs, get to Equestria, and give Drake an ass-kicking for making him go through all of this.

Maybe Slayer would get paid for his service in Nazar? That’d be nice.

Shamon regarded Slayer with almost a bit of humor in his voice, though genuine or not was unknown. “I know this may not be the most appropriate time to state this, but... you look really terrible, you know that?” It was an awful attempt at a joke, but Slayer couldn’t help but let out an honest guffaw at the probable understatement. Slayer rarely laughed—and it was rarer still for him to guffaw at that volume—but he felt it would be good for his mental sanity if he relieved some of the stress.

“You should see the other guy.” Slayer was almost internally stunned with himself; cracking jokes wasn’t something he usually did, much less during a siege and even less so in foreign company. The recollection brought words to the bounty hunter’s lips as he grasped the handles of his Sabres out of comfort. He made a note to figure out how they got knocked off so easily in the future when they were magnetically locked to his hips. “Enough pissing about. We need to press onwards and secure your Elders. How many men do you have?”

The word was foreign to Shamon, but it didn’t take more than half-a-second for him to realize the asking. “I have over thirty warriors with me. We had initially been rushing towards the Elder Council after we had been attacked in another district obtaining supplies, when some of our scouts saw you were commanding a unit into battle. We took higher ground and when the opportunity presented itself, we got a little revenge in stoning the Alpha, Lucien.” Slayer made a move to question, but Shamon beat him to the punch. “Lucien is the Diamond Dog that has been leading the raids on Nazar, and is one of the most notorious of their race. Rumors are like wildfire that he is one of the Great Five who command all of their dens across the world.”

Slayer wanted to question further, but he figured there would be a time and a place for that later. With the mercenary nodding to show he was satisfied with the current answer, Shamon continued. “Knowing that Alpha though, he will not give up so easily. We can expect to undoubtedly see Lucien again during this conflict, and he’ll undoubtedly be leading the attack on the Elder Council.”

“Thanks for the assist back there, by the way,” Slayer said in a muted tone. It was not often Slayer thanked someone for saving his life; more often than not, it was the other way around. Humble pie was something that was going down harder than expected. Maybe the rush of war was dulling his capacity to care about humility? That was a first. “You certainly made the fight a lot simpler for me.”

Shamon nodded in kind, a smile appraising his face. He realized the meaning behind the casual tone outlining the phrase, but didn’t call Slayer out on it. “You saved my life once. It is only fair that I might as well return the favour to a degree, eh?”

The quip floored the assassin with such simple logic, but he kept his response to an repressed chuckle as he glanced down. Spotting a broken spear raised a concern that needed to be voiced. “I recognize that you and your people are not ones to spill blood, but... you’ll need to take the Dog’s arms if you wish to reduce lives lost.”

Shamon’s face fell in contemplation as the other Zebras began organizing themselves. The remnants of Slayer’s force were quickly taking on a leadership role, setting the warriors into a mock parallel of the flight Slayer had designed for them and their kin. “You may very well be correct, although I do not know if they would be willing to use them even if I commanded them to. It is against our nature to kill, even if it is towards Diamond Dogs in self-defense.”

A frown worked its way onto Slayer’s face. He’d been expecting such a response. Slayer didn’t have the patience at that moment though to argue on the matter. If the Zebras wanted to die by not using more effective weapons, then that was their folly. So he decided to simply drop the issue, as they were starting to waste very very valuable time, and took the reins to begin escorting the troop through back-alleys. Shamon kept pace right beside him, staff ready to be drawn almost as swiftly as Slayer would his sword.

“Do you have any idea where the Elders are? A safety bunker of some sorts, or any kind of evacuation plan?”

The prince shook his head. “Unfortunately, we do not. The Diamond Dogs have never been this bold before to outright lay waste to Nazar. In our foolishness, I suppose we were almost too sure of ourselves and we underestimated the audacity of the Dogs...” Shamon assumed point for a brief moment to check around a corner, before signaling to Slayer that they were good. “They are most likely still in their tent where we held our... meeting with them.” The pause did not go unnoticed by the bounty hunter.

Whether by intention or chance, Slayer did not know, but they encountered no more ambushes or even combat during the course of their march through the city streets. They often passed by finished battles; some occasionally holding survivors still willing to fight under Shamon’s—though in a strange turn of events, it ended up being more like Slayer’s—personal banner, and some others...

Well, those individuals would not have been much help in their condition.

Both Shamon and Slayer halted their demoralized party. These warriors were not prepared for this, Slayer speculated; not physically, mentally, technologically, or psychologically. How the Zebras were able to hold themselves together and be willing to keep on fighting against surmounting odds was admittedly inspiring to the bounty hunter. There were human veterans that couldn’t keep their composure as well as the Zebras were doing, and these equines probably had zero actual combat experience beyond very basic training.

Shamon waved at Slayer to follow him closely, leaving the mass of troops behind so they could scout ahead. The prince considered idly for a moment to leave one of them behind to assure the soldiers and keep them from retreating in a blind panic, but decided against it after another moment. They needed two opinions for whatever obstacles might be in their way.

“Up ahead is their tent. We came in through a back-way, in case they were expecting a frontal assault.” Upon them both reaching the subtly-shadowed alcove, Shamon and Slayer simultaneously peeked around the corner. “Hopefully we arrived before they reached the vanguard—” The two tensed in trepidation.

What they were staring at was not pretty. The previous carnage Slayer had marched passed, in comparison to what was before him, was like trying to compare a hold-out pistol to an interplanetary battery charge. Dozens upon dozens of Zebra bodies laid soullessly in a mass grave in front of the space before the teepee, eyes glassy and chilling to stare into. Not a single Dog incapacitation.

Instead were several battalions of Diamond Dogs being organized under several Alphas, many armed with spears and full sets of leathery armor. Their files were sloppy, and more designed to squish as many Dogs into the small area as possible. Slayer didn’t doubt for a second he was staring into a band of at least sixty of the beasts. Shamon silently whispered something to himself under his breath, as their pairs of eyes took in everything.

They had stumbled onto the very heart of the siege’s reserves. And they were positioned directly in front of the tent, with no way to be able to slip through without being detected. A subtle mutt was scattered here and there with javelins, perched on random rooftops to serve as snipers and lookouts. The overall plausibility of getting past that overwhelming force deftly reached zero-percent in record time.

‘Shit.’

The word rebounded in Slayer’s noggin as he contemplated. Shamon could almost feel the cogs turning in the alien’s head, and after a while they both settled themselves into the nook to discuss. The prince was the first to start. “This is not good. We should have expected them to assemble their primary attack near the Elders in case of a rescue attempt.”

“I did, although the extent of their force is disturbing,” Slayer grumbled. “We can’t perform any stealth approach, nor can we perform a charge. We need to improvise, lure and/or diminish their miniature army in some way...” As he trailed off, an idea became forming in the back of his mind. Was it foolish? Absolutely. Risky? Of course. Did it have a high chance of success?

Hell no.

The hitman tapped a finger against his thigh, one of his signature modes of thinking. Shamon picked up on this. “Do you have an idea, Slayer?”

A nod left him as he spoke as softly as possible; arousing the Dog’s acute hearing before any action could be taken would be rather unpleasant. “Aye. It’s a multi-step plan; riddled with dangers for not just me and you, but all those warriors waiting for us back there. And it’ll most likely fall through and end with large amounts of losses. But we don’t seem to really have another plan, so we may need to take what we can get.”

Silence dominated the air between them. For a long, baited-breath moment, Shamon’s expression held large helpings of conflict, worry, and anger. The prince’s gaze hovered over his charges once more, then the mass of Diamond Dogs, and then the Elder’s tent which sat unmoving. It all faded with a resolute sigh, and the prince stared passively at the pirate. “What do you have in mind?”

Behind the man’s mask, a concealed grin revealed itself. “That depends; got any more rocks?”





Starbrought





With a heaving grunt of effort, Slayer pulled himself up and out of the hatch. Stealthily closing the wooden trapdoor before the hinges could give him away, the assassin crouch-walked over to the edge of the tower, and peered down from behind his cover. It had taken him nearly half-an-hour to organize everything and get Shamon to agree with the plan, but he did it.

Now Slayer just had to ensure that everything was in position.

Slayer stood on top of a bell-tower, overlooking the Elders’ tent and the horde of awaiting Dogs with precise calculation. Reaching into his satchel (the prince had sent for a scout to retrieve the bag from the discarded wagon), Slayer began tying his coil of metal cable around one of the buttresses, taking much too long in the marauder’s honest opinion to properly fasten it.

Slayer wished he had a rifle. It would be amusing to take pot-shots at Alphas and watch their heads comically explode in the cross-hairs. That would provide an excellent cover in terms of chaos to lure Lucien out to decapitate, or blow up. Unfortunately, Slayer had to make do with what he got. Though he made a note to look into seeing if he could construct one from a possible blueprint when he returned to the Ethereal.

If he ever got back to the Ethereal, that is.

Nightfall was in its earliest moments, bathing the bloodied capital of Nazar in the faintest wisps of crimson light. Once darkness fell, though; the Dogs rate of victory would increase exponentially, with the Zebras blindly stumbling about without any night vision. The man had to work as swiftly as he could; the Solaris Suit couldn’t maintain its charge with as near efficiency during the night, and such power-consuming actions like open battle would finish him off before any beast could. Slayer unclipped his jagged glass orb that he still had on his person, and held it up to the light.

Despite it being unrefined, and there being very little sunlight to work with, the rough sculpture gave off a semi-bright flash. A distant flash met him a few moments later in response. The agents were in position. Slayer exhaled, waiting for the right moment. Once the 'Crimson Menace' gave the signal, all hell was going to break loose. The only way it would work is if his timing was impeccable and his measurements had been absolutely spot-on.

Several Alpha mutts shambled about, growling and barking to their cohorts as squadrons occasionally departed to random vectors of Nazar. Slayer needed to kill this Lucien character quick. From what Slayer gathered, without leadership the Dogs would become unorganized and eventually flee. At least, he hoped that would happen.

It was their only shot of getting out alive, after all.

A questioning glimmer attracted Slayer’s attention. He gave one more look-over of the Diamond Dogs, and quickly flashed his orb. They were prepped. All Slayer had to do was to provide that single distraction to initiate the signal. ‘Hmm... what could I *possibly* use as an appropriate distraction?’ Glancing over at the unmoving bell, inspiration struck him as he smirked and drove his armored boot into the brass ornament.

It resounded with a heavy dong, one that echoed throughout the blood-soaked capital. Battles seemed to pause, suspended in time as the ominous sound rang across the streets, death being foretold in its endless groan. The Dogs below glanced up in confusion and fright. But the results were immediate.

One-fourth of the Zebra war-party that Slayer had led became known at the bottom of the Elder’s encampment, wildly throwing stones up the hill and dispatching some Dogs with lucky shots. The unexpected—but pathetic—assault only roused two squadrons of beasts to give chase to the equines, who fled down the road and away from the teepee.

The remaining Dogs merely looked puzzled at what just happened (with a Diamond Dog on occasion still glancing up at the now-silent bell), before another quarter of the Zebras emerged from an alcove and repeated the process. Once more, a squadron broke ranks at their Alpha’s discretion and pursued them into the back alleys of Nazar.

Slayer nodded to himself as he put his souvenir away. Half of their force remained. It would have to do.

Almost lazily, Slayer plucked a particular grenade from his utility belt and fiddled with it for a moment, fighting the urge to lightly whistle a tune and give his position away. After he was done, the bounty hunter casually dropped the ticking device into the midst of the Dog’s army. Numbers began floating through his mind. ‘One. Two.’  The grenade plummeted almost in an never-ending limbo, before reaching the earth. ‘Three. Four.’ Confused barks and whimpers sounded out below him as the technology settled, but Slayer didn’t look. There was no reason to. He just needed to wait for one more—

With sudden volume, a high-pitched whine much like a siren randomly pierced the air. Slayer’s Suit automatically adapted and suppressed the vibrations, just in case he overestimated the frequency and the Screamer threatened to bust his ear drums. Every single Dog (Alphas included, though to a lesser degree) hunched over in pain as their ears pressed against their skulls. Some of them instantly lost consciousness from the sensory overload, and a few others probably suffered permanent hearing damage.

Barely readable above the screeching wail, several Zebrican war-cries made themselves known. Slayer’s vantage point allowed him to bare witness to Zebras quietly lying in wait springing forth from their hiding places on the rooftops, using their staffs to render any lookouts in their range asleep via blunt trauma. The frequency was too high for even their ears to detect, making the Sonic Screamer an ideal item to use in order to shake the Diamond Dog force.

Slayer smirked as the Dog’s vertical advantage was gone; it was time to take it a step further.

Slayer clipped the cord to his waist, and lowered himself so he hung off the edge of the bell-tower. He began to count once again. ‘Time for Phase Two: One. Two. Three—’ Movement halted his countdown. A pair of Alphas had left the Elder’s tent, thankfully with no blood on their persons but still carrying weapons of war. Unlike the others however, they were somehow unaffected by the Sonic Screamer’s emitting shriek. Strings of curses left Slayer as he began to carefully but swiftly rappel himself down the tower, giving his cable slack for a continuous descent.

Some beasts being immune was not part of the plan.

It seemed, however, that those two Dogs went unnoticed by the rest of the Zebras. Shamon went through with the attack and suddenly charged out of an alley separate from the one where one of the decoys ran off through, leading the rest of his kin and blindsiding the disoriented mass of canines. They began dropping like flies, the Zebras dutifully using their staves like fly-swatters against any Dog still standing in their reach.

Slayer picked up his pace, occasionally pausing to draw one of his Sabres and open fire at a recovering Dog that would try and fight back. Those two Alphas still walked, almost indifferent to their own numbers being destroyed in front of them. Pausing just outside of the fighting’s area of effect, one of them unsheathed a javelin from his back. And with aim that even Slayer would have had a hard time with, the Alpha sent the spear straight through the Sonic Screamer grenade and cleanly severed the power coupling, rendering the machine useless.

Confusion wracked the hunter’s brain as he finally found purchase on the roof below his feet. ‘Their numbers are already dispatched,’ Slayer muttered to himself as he unbounded himself from the cable and sprinted over to the edge as quickly as possible. Stealth was no longer a factor that needed to be considered. ‘What’s the point of taking out the Screamer if they’re all decimated—’

Slayer froze at the edge. The answer was waiting for him. It seemed that those other squadrons from earlier that had left to hunt down the Zebras apparently gave up (or succeeded, which was a grim thought that Slayer filed away for later) and had begun to return. The Sonic Screamer however, was keeping them at bay and preventing them from entering the fray. With the shrill sound now gone...

Combat erupted almost instantly once more, as if the lull from the Screamer’s death never occurred. Dogs burrowed out of the stone boulevards and Zebras began to suffer casualties of their own from the unexpected counteroffensive. The two Alphas turned their attention to Slayer, inviting him over with their paws and smug smiles on their face. It seemed they believed to have out-thought the assassin.

Slayer snorted in irritation. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Those distractions were supposed to keep reinforcements back for several minutes longer. And Slayer didn’t have another Screamer on-hand to return the fight to his favour. Plan A was done with. Thankfully, he still had good ‘ole Plan B.

Kill them all. With explosions.

The bounty hunter reached to his belt once more, undeterred from the snag in his efforts. Slayer’s supply of grenades were limited, but he did have enough to survive any situation that would call for them. Slayer hoped that if he survived, he would still have some grenades left over to get him to Drake. Being stuck without the little buggers really sucked.

With an explosive in each hand, Slayer chucked his right load at the Alpha pair, and the left towards the sudden conflict. Without waiting for either grenade to go off, the bounty hunter activated the Solaris Suit’s speaker-function and bellowed out an order in a booming voice.

“Blind sight!”

The Zebras reacted immediately; they had been briefed on Plan B in case it ever happened. The warriors stopped their fighting, and turned away from the dumbbell shaped projectile now sitting silent and still in the middle of the zone. The Dogs, instead of rationally following suit and looking the other way, decided it wiser to stare in befuddlement at the strange object—

An excruciating flash of burning pure light sprung forth from the casing for but an instant. Diamond Dogs, to Slayer’s Shamon-provided knowledge, had amazing night vision but terrible sight in bright areas. As such, the flashbang grenade had a super-effective reaction amongst the Dogs as they went without the capacity to see for several brief seconds.

Ignoring ringing in their ears, the Zebras took their opportunity and began returning the numbers (and therefore the odds) to their favour. They didn’t even flinch at the fiery explosion that resonated from behind them, nor the screams of anguish as an Alpha perished to the strange weapon of the Interloper.

Slayer smirked, and without much fanfare shot the other surviving Alpha dead from the roof. The plasma grenade did its duty and gave Slayer an opening to shoot uninterrupted by any potential javelins. He wished though he took a moment longer to aim; it would have been more impressive to have killed both with one grenade. It didn’t really matter, Slayer considered. With those Alphas down, any Dogs nearby that noticed would undoubtedly surrender and/or make a hasty retreat. All that was left for him to do was securing the Elders and finishing off Lucien—

A shout from across the way brought Slayer’s immediate focus. The Diamond Dogs had recovered, but they were severely outnumbered. True to Slayer’s hypothesis, several of the canines had yielded and brought their paws over their head in submission as they sunk to their knees. They did not wish to meet a similar fate as their Alphas did to the hands of the metal thing. The Zebras obliged them with a quick blow to the temple.

The beasts that remained though seemed to have gone insane. They barked and growled and snarled ferociously at anything in their way, sometimes cutting down their own during the mad frenzy. Shamon was dead-set in the middle of it, somehow fighting off three of the deranged mutts by himself. The prince was losing ground, and given less than a few seconds would be cut down and dead before he even hit the dirt.

For a brief moment, Slayer and Shamon’s eyes met. They understood immediately.

Slayer’s Sabres found themselves in the assassin’s tight, accurate grasp as two consecutive bolts flew towards the Zebra. Shamon ducked under the jugular-slicing swipe of a spear, uppercutting the offending Diamond Dog with his bamboo staff from his lowered stance. Yelps sounded off, and Shamon’s flanks now had breathing room. Shamon parried another blow as Slayer began running down the row of buildings to get closer to the struggle, their positioning apparently being too risky for the warrior to shoot fire at the remnant of the army.

The Dog forgo'd its spear and launched itself forward. Shamon had been expecting it, but even with that advantage it wasn’t enough. Shamon was clipped by the mass of fury and felt claws dig into his hind-leg. A cry of pain left the prince, but he heroically pressed on and—presented with the opportunity—unloaded his undamaged hind-leg into the inside of the Dog’s knee. However, with the new injury adorning Shamon’s body, he fell unceremoniously to the ground from a newfound lack of balance.

As the canine recovered and raised its bloody paw to finish off the wounded prince, a shriek similar to an eagle sounded off from above. A brief second later, Slayer appeared out of the gloom like a scarlet raven descending upon its prey, and landed on top of the Dog. His katana was unsheathed, and with gravity guiding him, had severed the spine from the skull upon impact.

The battle was over in the blink of an eye.

Slayer left his sword in the corpse as he rushed over to Shamon, who was trying to stand but suddenly didn’t have the strength to. With weak protests, the Zebra allowed Slayer to gently ease him back down to the ground. Nearby tribesman attempted to approach their hurt prince, but with surprising harshness, Slayer dismissed them to get the man bandages and other medical implements.

“I’m... I’m wounded?” The mercenary ignored the confused prince as he began a brief rudimentary field-check. Slayer was no doctor, and hardly qualified to be a medic, but he knew his way around enough physical injuries to treat them all right. Shamon had thankfully only taken shallow penetrations, so no muscles seemed to be permanently damaged. And it seemed that, all in all, Shamon didn’t lose that much blood. That was good. If Shamon died, Slayer would be one guide less.

So why was Shamon going into shock?

Slayer’s eyes widened as the question repeated itself with greater volume. Despite his best attempts at being gentle, the assassin roughly patted the Zebra’s face. “Hey, hold in there, Shamon. Stay awake; we need you up and at ‘im.” No response met Slayer. With booming anger unaided by any speaker, the assassin’s voice rang out. “Where are my bandages?!”

“Right here, Slayer.” Without so much as a muttered ‘thanks’, Slayer snatched the wool straps handed to him by the same Zebra that had happened to survive his personal expedition into the city. Said soldier wanted to voice his displeasure at the brash attitude, but the seriousness of the state they were in and the condition of his prince kept the stallion silent.

A glass vial filled with a crystal clear liquid soon found itself next to the bounty hunter, who quickly uncorked the bottle and began pouring a generous helping onto the slash marks. A hiss of pain seemed to return Shamon to the living world, because a weak, shaky hoof went to push Slayer’s arm away. It didn’t even budge at the protest. “Slayer... stop. Let the doctors take care of me; go after Lucien—”

Shamon relapsed back into unconsciousness as Slayer finished dressing the wound. Shamon’s skin was beginning to feel clammy, and his pulse was abnormally slow, but it would pass. With another gruff order, blankets were soon laid out over the prince. Individuals in shock needed to lie down and stay warm; hopefully the Zebrican doctors could sustain the Zebra when Slayer could not.

Slayer turned to address one of the warriors, who threw up a hasty salute. The particular Zebra felt uncomfortable doing the motion as it was more an action performed by their Equestrian-counterparts, but seeing his prince do it before—even teasingly—inspired the hoof that may or may not have left a bruise upon its swift ascent.

“Have your best doctors tend to Shamon. Now. And send scouts out to the other districts: order a full-scale retreat to this point as garrison. Set torches, build barricades; do whatever you need to in order to fortify this location. Go.” The soldier trotted off without a word with orders that allowed no argument. Pausing only for a moment to harshly unsheathe his katana from the body of the Diamond Dog, Slayer began harshly marching towards the Elder’s tent.

The Zebra from the marketplace (whose name was, at the time, unimportant) swiftly caught up to him. Night was in full-effect, and those last trace glimmers of sunlight had evaporated. Nazar, still brimming with conflict, now fought in the shade. “Slayer, sir; where are you going—?”

“Is Lucien in there?”

The almost-growl of a response brought a swift reply. “Er, yes. We investigated as you asked. From what we could hear, Lucien is still there, apparently awaiting you. They... they have the Elders hostage already. Not dead it seems, thank the Divine...” Slayer gave no immediate answer as the teepee loomed closer and closer, and the Zebra’s eyes widened in revelation. “Sir. Lucien is backed by multiple Alphas. Do you expect to be able to drive them back all by yourself?!”

Stopping just a few paces away from the flaps of the eerily-still tent, Slayer glanced down at his acquaintance’s baffled expression. He spared a singular look behind his shoulder towards Shamon’s form being attended to by doctors. A dark, sadistic tone entered Slayer’s voice. One that caused the Zebra to backpedal away from the assassin as he walked through the tent. “Drive them back? Oh, no. I have something else in mind.”





Starbrought





“I have to admit; even after all this time, the Serenade still looks relatively the same,” Cadance said simply, eyes caressing the deck of the ship. Silver Flash and Shining Armor stood to her sides, while Drake hung back, lazily watching the clouds drift by. It had been about two hours since they set sail, and the breeze was pleasant as they progressed through Equestrian air-space.

Silver gave a nonchalant shrug, looking over the pegasi thoroughly cleaning the bow with immaculate precision. “I liked the colour too much to change it. Though the steel-plating is definitely new since the last time you were on here.”

Cadance grimaced. “And the arcane cannons.”

Another shrug left the captain. “Mercenary work is hardly a safe occupation. This is a military vessel, at the end of the day. Completely legal, of course,” she spoke with a grin in the direction of Shining. He just gave a nod and a grunt, seemingly more interested in keeping an eye on Drake than partaking in conversation. Raising her voice slightly to cover the distance, she addressed her guest. “Why do you look so down over there?”

Drake glanced over in a deadpanned expression. “Because I’m still under arrest?”

“Oh, right.” With a nervous laugh, Flash waved it away. “Well, come over here. Socialize! Don’t be like the stick-in-the-mud guards.” She promptly ignored both Shining’s snort and Cadance’s giggle. Huffing gently at ever being compared to the guards, Drake approached the trio, though his two 'attendees' did not leave his side.

The Tempest Serenade was definitely an impressive feat of engineering, considering the fact that the Equestrians didn’t seem to have the technology to produce a flight-worthy vessel without some amount of magic, Drake mused. It was without question a formidable ship, with apparently ample space to house crew, cargo, and containers that went ‘kaboom’; all important things when you were a freelancing ship. Drake gave an approving nod. “Your ship isn’t my Ethereal, but it is impressive nonetheless.”

Silver Flash smirked. “Glad to see you approve.” Lazily, she motioned towards some of the crew milling about the deck. “Since the Serenade runs on one of them new Mythril engines, my lads are really only here to man the guns and to maintain its innards. As such, they tend to not have much to do.”

“Is that why you deprive your 'mates' the joy of piloting the ship?” Cadance asked, though not sarcastically.

A shrug and a roll of her eyes was the captain’s only response as she maneuvered the wheel in her aura. “I’m not comfortable with a helmsmen, unless I am preoccupied. Why assign someone to fly your ship when you can fly it yourself? If anyone is going to crash the Serenade, you can bet your flank it’d be me.”

“I know the feeling,” Drake acquiesced from his spot behind the trio. “I don’t let either of my crewmates so much as touch the navigation panel. Barring their inability to fly the Ethereal, it doesn’t feel right to me either letting someone else fly my ship.”

A moment passed, before Flash gave him an appraising grin. “Nice to know I’m not alone in the department, Mr. Shields.” Drake merely nodded, and the human returned his attention back over the railing. Shining became her next target. “And you, guard boy: would you stop drilling holes in the back of Mr. Shields’ head?”

The Sergeant blinked in surprise, but gave a level look towards the mare. “Sorry, miss Silver Flash; but he is still a prisoner, and is still under my jurisdiction. Until we reach the Zebrican Desert once more, my eyes are staying on him.”

“How disturbing...” Drake quipped. not removing his gaze from the clouds. Brows furrowing, he leaned over the railing. There was something in the distant bank of white; a dark shadow, with a similar build to the Serenade. A moment and a cloud passed, and when both were gone, so was the specter. He merely shook his head, and turned back to the others. “So, when is our expected arrival time?”

Flash pulled out some ancient device (to Drake’s standards) from seemingly nowhere, examining it quietly. Giving a nod, she tucked it away back into... wherever. “We appear to be making good time. At the speed we’re going, we should reach these coordinates before noon tomorrow.” Drake nodded; that would have to suffice. Hopefully the Ethereal didn’t get too badly damaged, Drake prayed.

A brief silence settled over the quartet before Cadance spoke up. “We have also arranged to attach your ship to the bottom of the Tempest.” She raised a hoof to stop Drake’s anticipated asking. “This will happen regardless if it can fly by itself. At least until we return to Canterlot; then you may do with it as you will.”

“I thought my full pardon went into effect the instant we finished with my ship.”

“It does,” Cadance affirmed. “We just need to return to Canterlot as one group. A precaution.”

An irritated sigh left Drake, but he decided not to push his luck. He was thankful he was at least getting the Ethereal back. He could afford it not being in his immediate possession once more for an additional day or so. “If you must.”

Flash abruptly slammed her hoof against the deck. “Let’s go to my quarters. There’s something I need to show you three.” Leaving her present company in a rush, she hurried over to the other side of the balcony where the controls for the Serenade rested. “Elaweda! You’re on pilot duty. Make sure the lads get dinner and the shifts play out.” One of the crewmates trotted up, and it surprised both Cadance and Shining to discover him to be a Zebra.

“Uh...” Drake stood, blinking at the striped individual now maintaining the wheel of the ship. “Not to accidentally be racist, but... what is that?”

The captain raised an eyebrow, but waved it off. “Eh, you’re an alien; I’ll let it slide. Ella here,” she paused at the stallion snorting, “is the Serenade’s quartermaster. He’s one of the Zebra, Equestria’s cousins from the desert that your ship crashed in, Mr. Shields. Also my most loyal crew-member.”

“Uh...” Shining stood, blinking at the character currently ignoring their conversation. “Not to accidentally be racist either, but... why do you have a Zebra amongst your crew—?”

He was promptly interrupted by Flash suddenly unloading a slap across his muzzle. From Drake’s perspective, it might’ve even been a punch. The Sergeant stood baffled as she glared him down. “How could you ask such a racist and insensitive question, you pissant?! Are you saying Zebra aren’t allowed to work with Equestrians?”

The stallion’s eyes widened to an insurmountable degree. “N-no; that wasn’t what I was implying at all—!”

“You have some nerve, guard boy,” Flash whispered dangerously. Cadance could only stand on the sidelines along with Drake, watching the situation play out with a baffled expression. “I pardoned Mr. Shields because he is a foreigner. You, however, have... no... excu—” She suddenly stopped herself, fighting off a surge of laughter. She failed. “Ha ha ha! Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya! Your face was perfect.”

Before anyone could hope to question or comment on the events that had just occurred, Flash wandered off towards the interior of the ship, waving along her company. They quickly followed, if only to get distance between themselves and the fuming stallion at the rear of their pack. Drake glanced up, giving a small sigh of relief upon entry. “I am so glad I’m short enough to fit in this hallway.”

Silver nodded. “Yeah, we get some taller folks in here sometimes to help with loading cargo. I was thinking to expanding it further for our pegasi, but I don’t have enough in the budget. At least, not yet.” A predatory grin was flashed back towards Cadance. The princess merely shook her head slowly with a smirk.

Eventually they seemed to arrive at their destination, because Flash stopped in her tracks before a seemingly-inconspicuous door and ushered them inside. “Here we are; my personal quarters,” she said with a grin. The three guests could only raise their eyebrows at the scene. It looked more like a small wall-less apartment than a mere bedroom.

“Is that a liquor cabinet?”

Flash’s grin never left her face as she trotted over to it. “Why yes it is, my fine alien friend. It is also the reason why we are here.” Randomly grabbing one of the bottles in her magic, she brought out several shot-glasses and began heartily filling them. “I figured we might as well celebrate our reunion, Cadey.”

The princess twitched. “I thought we had an agreement that you would never call me that ever again, ever.”

She waved it off in a way that seemed like she wasn’t really that sorry, before she floated over everyone’s respective glass. Cadance reluctantly took hers while Drake happily nabbed it the instant it came in range. Shining’s, however, met a deadpanned expression. “Do you realize you’re giving alcohol to both royalty and a guard?”

An actual disgruntled look overcame Flash’s face. “Jeez. I thought you were a prune, but this is ridiculous. Get over yourself, guard boy.” With a tired sigh, Shining accepted the offered drink.

“What is this, if I may ask?” Cadance questioned, gently sniffing their soon-to-be beverage. To her credit, she didn’t keel over and become contact drunk by the smell alone. Her magic, however, did falter slightly around the glass before she regained control. “Oh my; that’s positively—”

“Strongest stuff this side of the skies,” the captain proclaimed proudly. “Minotaurs call it ‘Red Bull’, and is one of the most hard-to-get whiskeys out there. This is designed to knock ‘em out in a single shot.” Before either Cadance or Shining could voice their disapproval at such a powerful concoction, Drake knocked his back. The action froze them.

A few seconds passed, before Drake frowned. “That actually felt pretty weak.”

“What?! No way!” In a fit, Silver Flash downed hers. She waited a moment before she groaned. “Ugh. Did it get watered down, or something? I know it’s enchanted to take a lot of kick out of it so we can enjoy it, but come on! What a gip!” Apparently assured that the alcohol content wasn’t as high as anticipated, Shining and Cadance efficiently finished their rounds. They too, seemed to barely get buzzed by the drink. “This blows!”

As Silver continued on with her rather-childish tirade about alcohol, Drake stared at the bottle set down on the table. While he couldn’t understand any of the text written on it, he could see a small timer on the side. His eyes widened. “Uh oh...” And in that exact moment, Drake went from sober to pissed-drunk.

Cadance noticed the sudden glazed look on his face, and she tentatively raised a hoof. “Uh... are you alright?” Silver Flash glanced over in confusion, and saw what was happening. Her eyes widened as well in revelation, and just like Drake, the alcohol chose that moment to strike. The sheer force of the drink kicking in caused her to stumble.

Simultaneously, both Cadance and Shining fell under the same state that was plaguing the two ship captains. In one fell swoop, they were all relatively shit-faced. Drake gave a lethargic smile. “I think—*hic*—that it has a bit of a delay.” Gently, the others nodded. After much effort, they all grabbed themselves chairs and just sat, staring at one another.

“Na... now what?”

Silver Flash blinked slowly, eyes out of sync as she did so. “I dunno.” Her eyes scrunched up in irritation. “Give me a moment. This kinda... sucks.” Taking a shaky breath, she began channeling magic into her horn. Several seconds passed, before she sighed. “Ah. Much better.”

Drake blearily looked down at the captain of the Serenade. “What did you just do...?”

She waved it off, before she began putting more magic into her horn. It suddenly expanded, and bubbled out like a shockwave, washing over the other occupants of the room. The aura lingered on their persons, and after a few moments, vanished. Drake blinked, and shook his head. “Oh, I see. That spell weakened the alcohol. Interesting.”

Silver nodded her head. “That was just too strong to be enjoyable. I’m going to visit that enchanter the next time I’m in Minotaur territory; he had some nerve to try and sell me that.” Glancing over towards Cadance and Shining, she waved to get their attention. “How are you two holding up now?”

Judging by the still rather-absent expression on their faces, there was still too much in them. The captain shrugged; it was probably just one tier above a buzz. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Looking with disdain towards the bottle of ‘Red Bull’, she scoffed and sent it off back towards the cabinet. A new bottle arrive to take its place. “Mr. Shields. Let’s have a little contest.”

Drake raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously challenging me to a drinking contest after that?”

A cheeky grin appeared on her face as she poured the bottle’s contents into their two respective glasses. “Maybe. It’s not like we can do it with Cadey and guard boy over there.” Drake flicked his eyes over to see the two of them had already slumped over on the table, succumbed to the drink at some point during their talk. “Wow. Pair of light-weights.”

He simply shrugged. “Eh, sure; I’ll do some rounds with you. That spell almost destroyed too much of the buzz.” With a small, silent toast, the two tipped their liquor back. An appraising smile appeared on Drake’s face. “Man. Not pulling any punches tonight, are you?”

“I like a challenge,” Silver said dismissively. “I’m not one for those pansy drinks. Cocktails, and the like. It’s a shame I don’t have any rum on me. The damn supply we buy always vanishes, and not a single soul of my crew says they know where it went.”

In veiled amusement, Drake shot back his second glass. “And you call yourself a pirate?”

“Ex-pirate, Mr. Shields. Ex-pirate...” Trailing off, her eyes looked down towards the table in thought. Silver's sudden mood-swing cause Drake to straighten up slightly. Tapping the surface quietly with a hoof, she began speaking in a softer voice. “You remember when guard boy said I turned over a new leaf earlier, right?” Drake gave a nod. “Well... I, ah, lost someone close to me back in my days of piracy. After that, it just wasn’t the same. So, I went straight.”

“...I understand where you’re coming from,” Drake said after a while. Silver Flash raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I lost someone as well. Though, it kinda sent me into piracy rather than out of it.”

“Who was it?”

A sad smile splayed over his face. “My wife, actually.”

A few seconds passed in silence. Eventually, Silver Flash stood up from her cushioned seat and hopped down. Circling around the oval table, she stopped herself in-front of Drake. Before he could hope to question or stop her, Flash stood up on her hind-legs and wrapped her forehooves around Drake’s arm. Drake stood stock-still as she talked. “I see. It was my husband’s death that put me off, you know.” Bitter laughter left her as she let go. “We are more alike than we’d probably wish, Mr. Shields.”

Drake simply nodded, still processing that show of friendship. “Perhaps...”

Pensively, Silver stood there and bit her lip. Hesitantly, she spoke up. “Uh... what was her name?” The suddenly anxious expression on Drake’s face caused her to verbally backpedal. “I mean, only if it’s alright with you. You honestly don’t have to tell me if you don’t want—”

“Jenna.” The word silenced her. Drake wasn’t looking in her direction anymore, though. His head was bowed, and his shoulder-length hair obscured his gaze as he stared blankly at the floor. “Her name was Jenna. She died during a riot on my homeworld, between the rebels there and the Alliance.” He settled his head into his propped-up hand. “Twenty-seven died in that conflict. Explosions in the crossfire off-railed one of the commercial trams, and it...”

Silver rested a soothing hoof on his knee. The motion caused any further explanation in Drake's throat to die down and fade. Several more seconds passed as they sat there, drinks temporarily forgotten. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Silver Flash stated quietly.

A grim smirk entered her vision from him. “Don’t be. I’m serious; don’t pity me. There is no reason to apologize for something you could not prevent. Besides, that was... many years ago.” A second passed, before he patted her still-extended hoof. “But... thanks. I haven’t talked about that in quite some time.”

“No problem,” Flash said with a comforting smile. It fell though as she stared at his still-bound wrists. “Are they going to keep you like that until we’ve reached the deserts?”

Drake jiggled the chain of the cuffs. “I guess. Her Poniness over there seemed neutral about it, but her lapdog next to her seemed adamant about my binds.” Looking back down in irritation after glaring at Shining, he noted with surprise that his cuffs were now clattering to the floor. Drake looked back up just in time to see the final ebbs of magic leaving Silver’s horn.

“If you’re going to be pardoned tomorrow, then there’s no reason to treat you so harshly, is there?” Drake blinked, but made a move to thank her. She raised a hoof before any words left his lips. “Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. If they ask, be sure to mention that you lockpicked it, not I, okay?” Getting a simple nod in response, Flash grinned (though slightly tinged in bitter sadness) and raised the bottle. “Let’s drink the night away, Mr. Shields.”

And so they did.





Starbrought





“How the bloody hell do you open this thing?!” Yuri was not having a good time. Ever since he had beaten Diamond and taken his communication device, he had been trying everything to tease the little crystal into giving out its secrets. And so far, nothing had worked.

There was no speaker, dial-pad or screen. Hell, there wasn’t even a power button that he could see. Just a perfectly formed red crystal with no imperfections on it. However, there was a tiny mark on the top part of the crystal that appeared to be made out of another kind of material.

“Is this how you open it…? *bzzt* Ow!” Yuri threw the crystal against the wall of the closet he was hiding in due to it suddenly shocking him without warning. He looked at the red mark on his left hand where he had attempted to open the crystal. It was shaped in the exact pattern as the mark on top of the crystal, and it did not seem to be causing any pain.

His eyes shifted their attention to the crystal, which was laying rather harmlessly on the floor of the closet. Yuri slowly picked it up with his gloved hand, hoping that the crystal would not suddenly decide to shock his glove and possibly make a very big explosion. That did not happen, and Yuri once again found himself staring at the crystal. 

“Why are you not cooperating? Do you have natural bias towards aliens, because that’s not very nice.” Yuri looked over the entire crystal again, and groaned in disappointment as nothing new was found. Why did he always have to get sent to the places where nothing would go his way? First that bar on Canyon, and now wherever the hell he was had joined the long list. 

“Sergeant Diamond! This is Marshall Cobalt of Blackrock Mountain; do you copy Sergeant?” The crystal suddenly burst into life, causing Yuri to jump up and slam his head into the short ceiling out of surprise. “What happened down there? I just had two privates rush into my office and blabber on about a level-five breach and that I need to send the Titans down there at once. Is this some kind of joke or initiation that I was not informed of?”

“Fuck that hurt.” Yuri rubbed his head and felt a knot developing through his shaggy hair. He groaned in annoyance before realising what exactly was happening. 'Someone is calling for me. Correction: for Diamond, not myself. This Marshall Cobalt is probably the same person that Diamond’s friends went to go alert. I should have killed those Griffins when I had the chance.'

“Sergeant Diamond, are you there?” The Marshals voice had a sort of swagger to it. It was had a bit of a funny tone to it, but below it was the crisp and precise voice of an officer. Yuri gulped as several memories came back, only from him to rebury them deep within his brain. He continued to stare at the now glowing crystal, confused as all hell. 'What the hell are you? Gah, if only I had the Ethereal and and my tools with me now.'

“Respond soldier!” Yuri reached his hand to pick up the crystal, before pulling it back. 'Let’s keep quiet and see how this goes. No need to alert him right away that Diamond is down for a while just yet. Besides, I have no idea if this crystal has any sort of call-locator device in it. They would if they had any brains, which those last morons didn’t.'        

“Sergeant, if you’re still there: hang on. I’m sending the Titans down to you now. They should be able to take out anything that this creature can throw at you. They’ll be coming down hallway D8. Hold on tight, Cobalt out.” There was a small ding, and the crystal stopped glowing at once, leaving the closet to be lit by Yuri’s glove alone. The room/closet was nearly silent, as Yuri’s breathing was the only thing that could be heard.

“Well well well, this just got a bit more interesting. Whoever or whatever this Titan Squad is, the Marshall seems to think that they can easily take me down.” Yuri put his arms around his head and closed his eyes.

'Well, I’ll have some time to think of a plan, unless some janitor decides they want this exact mop from this closet. So, what do I have to my advantage at the current moment? For one, I have the element of stealth and surprise on my side, as far as I know. They don’t know exactly where I am, but they have a ton of people that can act as scouts for them, so I have to be careful where I move.' Yuri mentally noted that pretty much everyone that could be down here could be a soldier, so he would have to be insanely careful where he went. His eyes went down towards the crystal again, and a smirk appeared on his face. 

‘I also have this crystal that seems to be a communication device, so I have the chance of intercepting their communications without them knowing.  That means that anyone I do see, I have to take out as soon as possible. However, they don’t know anything about me or my technology. Oh, oh! I know what I can do. Sorry Drake, but I’m taking this one out of your book, and somewhat of mine.’ Yuri began to formulate a plan that would hopefully allow him to get out of this whole base and meetup with the rest of the crew. And it was a damn good one, if it worked.

Yuri reopened his eyes and looked out at the small closet. A slight smirk appeared on his face as he mentally put the steps in order to achieve his plan. He stood up and stretched his arms, which had gotten sore from being behind his head. He stood back up, being careful this time to avoid slamming his head into the low ceiling again.  He put his hand on the door and began to turn to start the first step of his plan.

A massive boom of sound slammed into Yuri, forcing him to dive down to his knees. Another boom went off, followed by another, and another, all within rapid succession of each other.  He held the same position with one hand over his good ear as the booms continued, before stopping abruptly. Yuri counted thirteen of them in all.

"What the fuck was that?” Yuri took his hand of his ear and stood back up, a bit scared to open up the door again. “Those sounded close to sonic booms, but that’s impossible. I really doubt that Griffins can break the sound barrier, because that would be overpowered as hell if they could.” Yuri took a quick look-over of his body to make sure nothing was damaged or broken, before taking a minute to catch his breath. He reached down and picked up the crystal before shoving it into his pocket.

“Well, I better get this plan on track.” Yuri took one last big breath, before slowly opening the door to ensure that no one was directly outside of it. From what he could see, there was nothing to the right of the door. He pushed the door open some more, and held in a couple of cuss words as the door creaked. 

Yuri peeked his head out and looked to his left and right again, before deciding that it was safe to go back into the hallway. He could still hear the faint booms in the distance, but they appeared to be moving away from his position, which was nice. He stepped out into the hallway, and began to move left as he hugged the wall for some sort of cover and camouflage. 

“This is either going to end really well, or really badly.”





Starbrought





Sunlight filtered unabashed across Drake’s face as he slept. The humming of the engines driving the Serenade through the air thrummed underfoot, creating a relaxing state that nearly guaranteed a deep sleep. So it could be forgiven that he seemed to not notice the figure standing over him, staring down in amusement. “Wow. He looks trashed...”

“I’m sure he can blame that on you, Silvy,” Cadance murmured as she saddled up next to the captain.

A snort left the unicorn. “Who was complaining earlier about nicknames?”

Princess Cadance stuck a teasing tongue out at Silver Flash, one that was reciprocated and mirrored. The two giggled amongst themselves, before returning their attention to the alien at their hooves. He really was a tall being when he was laid out, Cadance thought. A little over two ponies long. “We should probably wake him for breakfast.”

Silver Flash nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” Before she could swing a hoof back though to gently kick Drake’s ribs, one of his hands shot out and stopped the foreleg in its tracks. Considering the small groan that parted his lips, the action was reflex instead of intentional. The two mares stood stock-still as his eyes cracked open, and glanced over.

“...Why the hell am I on the deck?”

Smirks adorned both of the girls as Silver twisted her hoof inside of Drake's grip and pulled him forward to help right him. “You had a bit too much of drink last night, Mr. Shields,” Silver Flash stated. Her usual grin was prevalent on her muzzle, except unlike the night previous this one was genuine and carefree. “There might have been some straddling the arcane cannons on your part.”

He grimaced at his imagination conjuring up that mental image. “Ugh, great.” Finally standing on his own two feet, he made a total of two steps before he stumbled and had to grasp one of the railings for support. “Yep. Hangover is definitely a thing right now.”

“Here; I can fix that for ya,” Silver muttered. Closing her eyes gently, she set her horn against Drake’s exposed arm and began channeling magic. Drake scrunched up his brow at the sensation; her horn felt faintly... fuzzy? What the devil?

He decided to ignore this newfound fact by the sudden clarity in his mind. Now free of the binds of alien booze, Drake reclined on the railing casually. “Ah, thanks lass. It was hard to think with all the alcohol still in my system.” His eyes squinted as he took in the duo in front of him. “Where’s our resident stick-in-the-mud?”

“Still sleeping off his hangover. I’d do my custom spell on him also, but it was oh-so-draining to do it on you and Cadey here, and I’m simply exhausted!” The dramatics in Silver Flash’s words were betrayed by her sudden laughter, courtesy of Cadance giving her a flat look. “Okay, so maybe it’s revenge because he’s such a prune in my books.”

“I hate to interrupt, but do you serve breakfast on this thing, or what?”

Realization sparked across Silver’s face. “Ah, that’s why I woke you up! Get down to the mess hall; the cooks will give ya as much as you like. Me and Her Highness here,” Silver Flash giggled, “have some business topside we need to discuss. Is that fine with you, Mr. Shields?”

A grunt left him, and with a polite nod towards the two mares, Drake stalked off through the main doorway that led to the catacombs of the airship. Silver Flash and Cadance gently trotted over towards the controls, where the Zebra from before was still piloting in his captain’s stead. Upon seeing her approach, he took a few steps away from the wheel and tipped his head. “Capt’n.”

“Mornin’, Ella. How’re the skies today?” Silver asked as she resumed her position as helmsmen, smirking gently at his death glare from the nickname. “Sorry as well for having you run the night shift in my absence.”

Goodnaturedly, he waved it off and let it go. “It’s fine, Capt’n. Nothing ya haven’t made me done before. The wind blows in our favour; we ought to reach my kin’s lands within the hour.” Giving a smaller nod towards Cadance, he made his way to the opposite side of the balcony, stopping a crew member and giving him instructions.

“He didn’t seem to have the accent that I’ve seen from other Zebras,” Cadance noted.

“That’s because Elaweda’s from a chain of islands off the coast of the Zebrican Desert, actually. From what I gather, his ‘kin’ tend to stay in their own lands. Especially the ones from them islands.” Flash shrugged. “I think his accent kinda rubbed off on me, and then onto the rest of the crew. It’s contagious.” A cheshire grin staked its claim on her muzzle. “Plus, it reminds me of my pirate days. Argh!”

Cadance chuckled at that. “You haven’t changed a bit after all these years, have you?”

“Ah, but you have.” Cadance’s questioning look caused Silver to wave a hoof at her. “Look at you; a member of full-fledged royalty. I remember the last time I saw you, you were babysitting in your off-time and attending that Academy in Canterlot.” 

“And I remember back then that the Serenade was a glorified floating rust-bucket.”

Silver stuck her tongue out once more and gently tapped Cadance on the shoulder. “Bah, you’re full of it. Same as back then. Maybe you haven’t changed that much—” Suddenly, Silver Flash stopped her sentence, staring with a gross intensity out on the horizon. Before Cadance could ask what was the matter, the captain began bellowing orders. “Hostile frigate on the horizon! Prepare the cannons!”

“What?!” Cadance sputtered, even as the crew exploded in a frenzy of action. Swords were unsheathed, arcane cannons were primed, and in a matter of moments the Serenade was ready for a war. “Is that seriously a—”

A hoof was jammed into Cadance’s mouth, preventing her from speaking further. With a glare from the captain, it was obvious she should be quiet. Using her now-free hoof on the wheel, Silver began sending the ship into an enormous cloud bank. Despite the puffs not being all that solid, there was definitely resistance as they entered the thick of it. Wispy entrails hung about the deck like a mist.

Silver Flash grabbed the intercom system in her magical grasp, eyes unusually serious. “Engine Crew: full-stop,” she said in a level tone. Instantly, the Serenade lurched, but steadily slowed down. Two malformed anchors fell from the ship, enchanted to latch onto the clouds and keep the vessel in place.

And then, there was silence.

“Not a sound, lads.” With the heavy quiet on the deck of the ship, Silver’s voice carried across its entirety, despite it being a whisper. For several long minutes, they sat there, suspended in the air, waiting for the ship to pass by. After nearly ten terse minutes of zero activity, Silver whispered to Elaweda. “Get a pegasus to scout out what’s happening out there. Make sure they have a spell-glass on them.”

The Zebra gave a nod, and whistled gently. One of the pegasi landed, and the instructions were relayed in short order. With several flaps of his wings, the pegasus launched himself to the crow’s nest and beyond. Several anxious seconds passed, before he returned. “Ship seems to have left, Capt’n. Can’t see a wisp of her anywhere.”

Silver Flash nodded, and relaxed her stance. It transmitted to the other crew members, and soon they were back to their relatively calm selves. Cadance made a move to question, but Flash beat her to it. “We’re in Redhorn’s territory now. Him and his little fleet tends to patrol this band of the skies.”

The princess gasped. “Wasn’t he detained and captured after the stunt he pulled at Diamond Pass?”

“Unfortunately, he got away,” Flash muttered. The engines kicking back on caused the Serenade to gently rise up through the cloud bank. “Redhorn has been hunting me down ever since I betrayed the Pirate Lord and turned away from that life. Says he’s doing it because I shouldn’t be able to leave my days of pirating—”

“Brace!” Before the unicorn’s cry for cover could even fully connect, an unbridled silo of cannonballs ripped through a wall of cumulonimbus and struck the Serenade. The force of the shots actually began to tip the vessel, nearly sending multiple members overboard in the chaos. A resounding shout rang out as the impact faded. “Hostile frigate is attacking!”

Silver Flash’s eyes widened, and a short curse left under her breath at the ship across the way from them. Three rows of inferior models of the Serenade’s arcane cannons smoked from their discharges, and even from that distance, several globs could be seen recharging the weapons. Silver’s mouth turned into a sneer. “The Silent Rogue.”

Elaweda stepped in, his strange accent reverberating across the expanse of the two ships. “Prepare to return fire! Cannons set to Frost!” The cannons responded to the command, alloys shifting to a icy-blue glow that seemed to chill the very air around them. A grim line arose on his muzzle. “Fire!”

Several balls of frozen wrath jettisoned from the Serenade and began to strike the hull of the Silent Rogue. Its effect was immediate, for sheets of ice began to form and seize up the batteries charging for another volley. A handful of the mechanisms even detonated, incinerating those unlucky enough to be in the vicinity. Silver Flash grinned. “Lads, the Silent Rogue is crippled! Toss way the grappling hooks! Reel them in!”

Affirmative shouts rang from the Serenade’s crew as a trio of hooks from below-deck fired out and latched onto whatever they could find purchase on. With the engines currently reliving an ice age, the Silent Rogue didn’t have a chance in evading or breaking away. The clinking of chain being withdrawn sounded across the space, and soon the two ships were being pulled towards one another.

“Swivels!” Silver ordered. “Fire-at-will at any of Redhorn’s dogs!” The two unicorns on the starboard side nodded, and began manipulating the railing-mounted devices to fire upon the crew. At their current range, some of the rival unicorns began firing bolts of magic at the Serenade in a vain attempt to shake them. A vicious grin crossed Silver’s face. “Lads! Ready the ropes, and prepare to board—!”

She was interrupted by a silo. From the opposite side.

“Larboard, Capt’n! Another of Redhorn’s ships!” The lookout shouted. His eyes widened as he flew down from his perch on the crow’s nest, just barely fast enough to dodge the round that incinerated the position. “It’s the Emerald Mist!”

Silver Flash gaped. “This was an ambush...?”

Cadance’s eyes flickered across the three ships engaging in battle. Elaweda began orchestrating the port side of the Serenade to counter the advance of the new ship, with meager success. Almost ignoring the firestorm being unleashed upon it, the Emerald Mist rammed the side of Flash’s vessel, effectively pinning them between the two pirate ships. Suddenly, she remembered where she had seen this before; a maneuver that Shining Armor had explained to her once. “A pincer movement...”

“Oldest trick in the damn books!” Silver Flash yelled suddenly, her eyes alight in righteous fury. “Hold the deck of the Serenade! Repel the boarding parties!” With a growl, Silver’s magic sprung to life. Two swords, discreetly hidden amongst the vest she often wore, became known and twirled about their master. With a theatrical battle-cry, she raised one blade over her head as a tucked-away hood engulfed her head. “Give no quarter! Fight to your last breath!”

As Silver Flash flung herself over the railing, and began to engage the rival ship’s forces herself, six of Cadance’s guards appeared from the bowels of the ship and surrounded her flanks. “Your Highness! We must pull back into the ship!” one of them shouted as he fired a beam at an advancing pirate, only to paralyze them.

Princess Cadance could only stand there, staring out at the deck before her. Enemies from both the Silent Rogue and the Emerald Mist poured over the sides, steadily occupying every space that they could. Silver Flash was in the midst of it, dual swords swinging about in a lethal dance, her own crew fighting in close-proximity. Cadance frowned and reluctantly backed up as asked towards the door. “Where is Sergeant Armor and the rest of my guard?”

“Preparing an escape-route below deck for you, Your Majesty,” another guard said as the assembled soldiers used their bodies to create a physical barrier between any pirates and Cadance while they retreated. “We cannot locate Sergeant Armor, nor the prisoner.”

Cadance’s eyes widened, and she stopped before she entered the relative-safety of the interior of the Serenade. The prisoner? Her mind went back to the entire reason why they were even on their journey. Her brow furrowed, and she unloaded her own magic, adding to the defense against the pirates taking a sudden interest in her presence to buy time. “Where is Drake Shields?”

The multiple guards glanced at one another, but cumulatively sighed and stood their ground at the entrance. “We do not know. He was last sighted in the mess hall, but vanished soon after the pirates were initially spotted. The prisoner most likely escaped amongst the chaos, Your Highness.”

Hatches on the deck suddenly threw themselves open, revealing reinforcements for Silver Flash and her present crew as they climbed and flew out to enter the fray. The sound of battle—metal clashing against metal, the cries of the dying, the explosions and zaps of spells whizzing around the three locked-ships—was deafening.

“Your Highness!” The sudden arrival of a new guard seized Cadance’s attention. “The soldier we posted in the hold to watch over the prisoner’s equipment was just found incapacitated. All of his possessions are gone, and one of the lifeboats that was on the Serenade before boarding is now unaccounted for.”

Cadance quickly trotted across the width of the ship, igniting her horn to dispatch anyone that got in her way. The guards practically had to sprint to keep up with her pace and to prevent any flanking attacks. Upon arriving at the railing, she looked down, just in time to see the distant object of what was most-likely the missing lifeboat floating down to the ground. Her mouth fell open. “Did he seriously—?!”

A sudden explosion rocked the Serenade and stopped Cadance’s question in its tracks. A horrible groaning sound began to echo in the skies, as if metal was being forcibly crushed and ripped apart. The ship lurched, and for a moment Cadance thought that the Serenade was about to go into a free-fall.

This fear was assuaged when the Emerald Mist detonated.

Abrupt whooping and hollering came from the burning vessel. Cadance’s eyes quickly found the source; there was an individual standing on the Mist’s now-mangled crow’s nest. A very bipedal individual. Said individual, who could be no other than Drake, grabbed hold of a rope and jumped. As the husk of the former pirate-ship fell, he swung across the way and barely landed on the deck of the Serenade.

He stumbled slightly upon landing, but gave a grin as he tossed aside the torch he’d clearly used to bring down the Mist overboard. “You can thank me later. In gold.” He drew his cutlass and activated it, the glowing blue blade giving his face a sinister look. “I think I need to show these so-called ‘pirates’ how it’s really done.”





Starbrought




> Chapter Nine - Conflictations (Part 2)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Starbrought





“Drake, if I ever get out of wherever the fuck this is, I’m going to lock you in the reactor and turn you into organic fuel.” Yuri’s plan to escape from the griffon complex was not going well. Ever since he had departed from his janitorial closet in an attempt to find a way out, the only thing he had found were four more janitorial closets, a random pit that seemed to drop into the planet’s core, several sealed doors that were marked with signs similar to quarantine symbols, and a rather-empty guard post. 

After what felt like hours of walking, he had found himself at a four-way junction with three other important-looking passages breaking off into different directions. He stopped for a moment and leaned up against the wall to take a short break. It amazed him that his legs still ached from the crash. 

One quick break later, Yuri slowly made his way to the middle of the junction to ensure that no one was hiding in an attempt to capture him. Nothing was there, which was quickly becoming the norm the further he progressed. He had not seen any signs of life since his first encounter with the griffins, and that was doing nothing to relax his already-tense nerves.

Each one of the passages seemed to go a different way. The one directly in front of him seemed to descend into the unknown, and probable death. He instantly crossed that one off his list after deducing that he was in some type of cave system, and going further down would be the complete opposite of where he needed to go. He turned to the passage on the right and stared at it intensely. It slowly curved to the left and out of sight, which was a improvement from the other one, but still not the one that he was looking for.

Turning to his right once more, a smile broke out on his worn face. “Bingo. Where have you been all my life?” This passage went straight for a little bit, before turning into a pair of stairs that ascended at a sharp degree. 

Yuri slowly entered the passage with a great deal of caution. Even if this was going up the way he needed to go, he still had no idea where to go from wherever this passage took him. After all, this could have all been a massive trap to lead him into a situation where he could be killed or captured, and the lack of guards somewhat pointed towards some scheming by his griffin opponents. 

He arrived at the base of the stairs and looked up, still crouching to avoid being seen. Sure enough, the steps went up for quite some time before leveling out into a unknown area. Small lights embedded in the wall illuminated the passage up. At the very top of the stairs, a light shined brilliantly.

Yuri turned to his left and discovered a small sign on the entrance of the passage. The letters were made of a shiny, untarnished metal of some kind. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?” he muttered under his breath. His mind began to wander in thought. ‘I know it’s a sign of some sort, but it’s not holographic and whatever language it’s in isn’t in my translator. I’m definitely in the boonies here. We could have warped into the Void regions. No, that would be impossible giving what the navicomputer said… Damn it, Drake; none of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten kidnapped. For the fourth time. To be fair, I suppose I kinda got kidnapped too.’

Yuri slowly continued creeping up the stairs with the utmost of caution, not wanting to take any chances when he was fairly close to getting out, or at least moving along with his plan. As he neared the top of the stairs, he heard what sounded like talking coming from an unknown location. Yuri stopped in his tracks and laid down, using the stairs as cover to mask his presence, though not a very good one. He hid for over a minute in his semi-cover without moving or emitting any noise. Sure enough, someone or something was talking up a storm above him.

‘I can understand bits and pieces of what they’re saying. Something about a Lockdown… Well, at least I now know that they’re still looking for me. If I’m this close to them, then I must have escaped the Lockdown somehow. Shit, that means I can’t go back down to where I was hiding. However, I need to know what these things are saying.’  Yuri slowly moved up the stairs with a great deal of caution. He stopped every two steps or so to ensure that nothing was going to sneak up on him.

“Are you sure that no guards need to be posted at your location, Colonel?” a grainy voice spoke in concern. Yuri’s brows furrowed. The voice almost sounded distant, somehow. Perhaps it was being emitted from a crystal similar to the one he had?

“I am quite sure, Marshall,” a much-closer and younger voice stated. There was no doubt in Yuri’s mind now that he was listening to another comm transmission. “We’re well away from the Lockdown zone, so it would be near impossible for it to arrive here without going through several blast doors and dozens of guards. We will be quite fine here, sir.” 

“I admire your confidence, but don’t get cocky. This isn’t a normal creature we’re dealing with; not even by our standards. None of our scouting parties have even seen a glimpse of it. Hell, the only ones who have seen it besides the squad it nearly killed are those two doctors, and they’re currently scared out of their minds.”

‘No one has seen me? Heh, guess I’ve managed to slip through their Lockdown somehow. Lucky me. However, it’s going to be near impossible to slip by them now.’

“No one has seen it since? That’s worrying, sir.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I’d love to chat some more, Colonel; but I’m about to enter a meeting with the senior base personnel about this very issue. Contact me if you see anything out of the ordinary. Cobalt out.”

“Yes sir.” The faint hum of a crystal powering done echoed down the staircase.

‘I need to get to that meeting somehow, and I need to come up with a plan fast since my old one no longer works. I could always do something incredibly stupid and just walk into the room, however I have no idea how they will react, or who’s even up there. Gah, why can’t things be simple?! I need to get a view of them before I do anything.’

After a number of minutes had passed, Yuri slowly moved up from his spot until he was just below the final step. He looked back once to make sure that no one was coming, and then carefully poked his head above the stairs.

The room was in the shape of a circle, with another passage leading up to an unknown location directly opposite from him. Its high ceilings lead into a dome, with another artificial light at the very top mimicking sunlight. 

There was a console in the middle of the room, and it seemed to be the centerpiece of the gilded room. Two griffins stood around the console, and there was absolutely no soldiers in sight that posed a threat. From what Yuri could tell with his basic knowledge and guessing, the two griffins standing there were fairly old, and their markings pointed to at least one of them being an officer, besides the already stated Colonel. 

Yuri ducked down again and began to scheme. ‘I can easily take them by surprise, but I need to do it very carefully. If I fuck up here, I’m going to have no option but to try and fight my way out, and that is going to get really, really messy.’ Yuri breathed in a single, deep breath and slowly stood himself up. He silently drew his blade and removed it from its scabbard, its steel gleaming in the light.

Yuri was about to take a step forward, when out of nowhere the voice of one of his Imperial instructors echoed from the depths of his mind. “‘Private Lawrence, if I see you walking flat-footed during another stealth drill, I’ll have you doing jumping jacks out the airlock!”’ Just as quickly, it left, and Yuri gently rolled his foot down on the floor. Yuri let out a small breath; that time in his life was the root of all evil he had committed, but it was also the basin for everything he knew. And so, rolling each step and making sure he wasn’t heard, Yuri crept silently up the rest of the stairs. 

Not a single noise was emitted as he slowly entered the room. The two griffins showed no signs of knowing his presence, either. They were busy looking at a manual of some kind, and he could now clearly see the shining blue crystal that was embedded into the console. The younger of the two made a movement that hinted of turning away, and that is when Yuri struck.

Yuri blitzed across the room, and struck without mercy. He turned his sword and slammed the butt of the weapon into the younger griffin’s temple, knocking him out instantly. As he slumped over the console, he turned the sword and positioned it inches from the Colonel's neck.

“Don’t say a word. Don’t cry out or I will kill your friend right here.” Yuri pointed his gloved hand at the knocked out griffin and powered it up, a sick orange glow cast upon the griffin’s back. “Blink two times if you understand this.” The griffin hesitantly blinked twice. Yuri noticed that the griffin seemed to be trying to reach the crystal and call for help. 

“Good, we have a understanding. Now, if you try to activate that crystal of yours, I will make sure that talon of yours becomes rather useless very fast.” The griffin stopped trying to reach for the crystal, his breath coming in nervous intervals.  “I have some very simple questions I want you to answer.”

“I’m not going to answer anything you have to say, you br—” Yuri put the blade on the griffin’s neck. The griffin had been trying to back away, but Yuri had trapped him in a position where he could not move back at all without falling over. 

“Yes, you are. Otherwise, I’m just going to knock you out and wait for your friend over there to wake up.”

“I will not tell you anything! For the honor of my family and the Dominion, I will not tell you anything that will threaten the lives of our species! Kill me if you must!” The griffin huffed and stood a little bit prouder, knowing that if he did die, he would die with honor. 

Yuri moved the sword an inch away from the griffin’s neck, a smile on his face. “How very honourable of you. Normally I would just kill you here and now for saying something like that to me, but I know you have good intentions, right? Which is why I find this very funny. Do you know why I find this very funny?” He paused for a moment, but the griffin kept his silence. “Cat got your tongue? Alright, then answer this: you claim that you won’t answer my simple questions because you wish to protect your people, correct?”

“Yes.”

“What if I were to tell you that there is a bomb currently resting unprotected in the middle of the desert near your capital?”

“Hmmph.” The Colonel’s eyes had widened for a fraction of a second, before the possible implications were visibly crushed by a mask of stoic resistance. “I would call you a complete and utter brute, and potentially a liar.”

“That’s rather bold for someone with a sword to their neck. But let’s get back to the topic at hand, shall we? There is indeed a bomb lying in the middle of the desert by your capital, and if someone messes with it and it goes off—or if enough time passes—a city size crater is going to appear. And when it does, it’ll render that entire area and anything downwind of it completely uninhabitable.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not. And I’m also the only one possibly on this planet that can prevent that. So, the longer you and your people keep me here, the more people you put in danger. Now, you’re a griffin of honour right?

“Yes, bu—”

“Then it is your duty to protect your people. And for that to happen, you need to answer my simple, easy questions.” Yuri smirked as he removed the sword from his captive’s neck, the griffin visibly confused at what he had just heard. Yuri walked around and made sure the other griffin was still breathing, which he was. 

“Are you ready to answer my questions?” the Colonel still had a very confused look on his beak, and Yuri knew it was the time to ask.

“What is the easiest way to get in contact with the commander of this base?”

“That… That would be by using the P.R.I.C.K here.” He pointed his talon at the crystal embedded into the table. “Y-you could also—” 

“Thank you very much,” Yuri interrupted. “Now, this is what is going to happen: you’re going to call them on that crystal, and then you are going to walk down those stairs with your friend and get very far from here. Do you understand me?” the griffon nodded, before reaching over and touching the bottom of the crystal with his talon. A dim whiteness cloaked its exterior.

“Operator here: who are you requesting communications with?”

The Colonel swallowed as he watched Yuri’s neutral gaze out of the corner of his eyes. He cleared his throat lightly. “Set up a relay with Marshall Cobalt, if you can, miss.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel, but he is currently in a high-priority meeting and has requested not to be interrupted unless it is a serious matter—”

“Operator. I assure you that the relay I need to set up is to allow a very serious matter to come to his attention, and the other personnel he is meeting with.”

The seriousness in his tone caused the female griffon on the other side to relent. “I see. Very well, sir; patching you through now.” The crystal glowed a soft blue, before emitting a odd tone. Being wordlessly dismissed, the Colonel grabbed his friend. And laying him on his back and beginning to walk down the stairs, the two steadily vanished from sight.

‘I hope that wasn’t just guard-speak for calling the guards here. There is no way it was that simple. Well, what’s done is done; might as well try and finish this fast.’ 





Starbrought





The atmosphere of the Elder’s tent reeked of despair and dread. Slayer’s nose scrunched up at the smell in repugnant indignation, before the air filters kicked in and cleansed the stench. It was probably urine belonging to the Elders, he mused to himself. The first legs of the desert night coexisted with the shadows already present in the tent, and no movement indicated any signs of life in the structure. Yet despite Slayer not immediately acclimating to the shift in visibility, he could still clearly see the faint glow of eyes hovering across the way.

Deciding that waiting for his own natural night-vision to kick in would take far too long, Slayer gave a quick, wordless tap against his helm. The visor hummed for a short second, before the setting before him changed. What little light that was palpable in the space was quickly interpreted and amplified by the visor, lighting the innards of the tent through the usual black-and-white format of a low-light filter.

The Elders were definitely still hostages, and definitely still alive; of that there was no doubt. Spears, wielded by a small group of Alphas (no doubt Lucien's honour guard, Slayer thought), were leveled to each of their throats. Their forms were gagged, blindfolded, and then even hogtied for good measure in an almost orderly line before Slayer, as if awaiting execution. ‘Both a pity and a relief they live still,’ Slayer scoffed to himself. ‘Considering how their condition is the only factor that’s staying my blade.’ Frightened murmurs softly left the aging Zebras as they heard Slayer enter, his metallic boots harshly announcing his arrival against the weathered sandstone.

Lucien, in the farthest opposite corner of the opening flaps, sat in a chair dead-center that certainly hadn't been there during Slayer's previous visit. It took a moment for Slayer to realize what precisely Lucien was sitting on: a pantomime of a throne, a horrible machination forged most likely of the bones and skulls of the Alpha's victims. Slayer thought he even saw some belonging to Dogs themselves, but there was realistically no way of telling.

Slayer would have commended Lucien’s display of his previous exploits in such a creative manner, if he didn’t have the premeditated intentions of adding the Dog and his cohorts to the piece.

A small, whelp of a mutt emerged from behind Lucien, anxiously massaging its claws as it spoke in a tittering, obnoxious whine that sounded like the high-pitched wailing of a malfunctioning drone. Several seconds later, the Dog stopped. Slayer blinked behind his visor, a mixture of confusion and irritation arising on his face; he didn’t catch a whiff of what was just said. The translator came back with similar results. ‘Can these Dogs not communicate due to a language barrier? If so, that could explain some things.’

Almost cautiously, the Dog tried again; this time in a terribly-accented and broken Swahili. “You speak striped-pony?”

Slayer nodded, but his thoughts betrayed him. ‘So, they don’t even have that as a flimsy excuse. Without a language barrier to hide behind, they knew damn well what they were doing.’ As his thoughts turn to violent means to temporarily satisfy his growing urge to start fighting, Slayer continued staring down the small, diminutive creature that had spoken. It was hardly taller than any of the other Zebras, and it constantly adjusted and fidgeted under the scrutiny of Slayer’s glare as if it was suffering from nervous muscle spasms.

Speaking of said mutt, it began speaking again (or rather attempted to speak again), but the words comprehensible to the bounty hunter were few and far between. Judging from what he could understand, the beast kept switching between the Zebra’s language of Swahili and its own; probably more out of habit than a try to spark Slayer’s ire. The disjointed grammar and mispronunciations that the translator tried its best to work with made Slayer hope he didn’t sound near as idiotic in comparison whenever he opened his mouth.

After it finished, Slayer frowned. While the long-winded drivel just thrown at him was hardly complete and structured, he did catch the name ‘Lucien’ tossed about a few instances. Perhaps the dog had introduced Lucien to him? If that was the case, why didn’t Lucien grace Slayer’s ears with an equally-bastardized attempt at communication instead of the runt? At this point, Slayer figured he could care less; if Lucien wished to hide behind that mutt and whatever role it had, then fine.

Still, an introduction was an introduction. Raising his own fist to his chest, Slayer ran laps in terms of fluency around the small Diamond Dog. “I am Slayer. Warrior of my tribe from the stars.” An idea came to list off some of his exploits and titles, but again like with the Elders, thought better of it. It wasn’t as if they would understand the value of those accolades, Slayer mused. His hand fell away with a grin. “I hope you’re satisfied, because that will be the last time you ever hear my name again.”

The muzzle of the hound exposed a nervous smile as Slayer’s words triggered a cascade of anxious twitches. Lucien looked unimpressed, leaning on his paw with apparent disinterest. There was a band of dirty gauze wrapped around his wounded eye, marred red from the barely-stemmed injury. It took a moment for Slayer to notice the battered ornate chestplate now adorning his midsection. ‘Lucien had definitely been expecting me...’ Slayer’s attention returned to the smaller Dog whispering in its own tongue to its Alpha. Upon a critical stare and analysis, the pathetic sapient reminded Slayer of a shih tzu.

A few moments passed, before Lucien straightened up and stared at the pirate tensely. He murmured something unintelligible, a polar-opposite of the runt’s previous whine though still as incomprehensible, and that’s when Slayer couldn’t stop the soft groan from leaving his lips. Lucien couldn’t speak Swahili.

Fucking. Figures.

Slayer watched the twitching mutt in bemusement, whose role was most likely nothing beyond a translator. “Uh... Lord Alpha welcome you! He impress with last fight. Would congratulate you.” The assassin rose a brow at Lucien; the canine didn’t look too welcoming for such groveling, unorganized statements. “Lord Alpha want to know why you help striped-ponies instead of tough, good Dogs.”

A shrug left the soldier as he took in the surrounding units: discounting the translator, there were five guards—all Alphas—along with Lucien. Not the best odds, though definitely not the worst he’s faced, Slayer thought. “I’ll give you two. One, you are all slavers. Pathetic, weak, and spineless; you cannot inspire others, so you must force them to your service. Hostages to meet ends is one thing, permanently removing one’s freedom is another. And there are few beings I despise more than slavers.”

Slayer ignored the sweat now rolling down the translator’s face. “And two, I helped the Zebras because they didn’t try to foolishly kill me. One of your pack of Diamond Dogs did.” Slayer, cracking his knuckles slowly and deliberately, caused all of the others in the tent to flinch, even Lucien himself. “As you can expect, I succeeded where they failed.”

More whispering was directed towards Lucien. A pondering expression, if one could call it that, appeared on the Alpha’s face for a moment. Interestingly enough, he didn’t seem to care about the fate of those random Dogs back when Slayer was attacked by the cave. Perhaps they were two separate packs, and weren’t affiliated? It made little difference in the end, Slayer supposed; both groups thought it wise to stand between Slayer and his goals, so both groups would die. It was the way things worked for people, beasts, drones, or anything else that crossed Slayer.

Lucien growled something to his cohort, and leaned back casually. The translator blinked stupidly, and made to respond before Lucien cut him off with a fierce snarl. Slayer watched the Dog shy away. “Uh... Lord Alpha sorry. Would like alliance with metal you.”

Several seconds passed in silence as Slayer examined what was just said. He examined it once, twice, three times, four; he began losing count. Did the Dogs really just...? After everything that had transpired over the past hours, and after all the shit they pulled, the Diamond Dogs wanted to call a truce? The assassin couldn’t help it.

He cocked his head away from the Dogs, and began laughing his ass off.

Dogs and Elders alike gave another flinch at the boisterous, maniacally-rough roar that could be called Slayer’s laughter. The translator belonging to Lucien uneasily transferred his weight from one paw to another, giving another nervous smile as he gave a small laugh of his own.

Abruptly, Slayer stopped laughing and snapped his head back towards Lucien. The expression worn on the Alpha’s face could be described in one word: disturbed. “Interesting proposal. Say I am interested. What will you offer that the Zebras cannot?”

The shih tzu balked at the response, most likely due to Slayer having only denounced them a few minutes prior, but growled to his master nonetheless. Lucien shared a similar look of shock, before motioning towards Slayer in an unsure gesture. In all of his time in space, Slayer did not think he could have been luckier. He got to decide terms and make even more money? That was just lovely.

Lovely, but stupid, on the Dog’s parts.

Slayer’s eyes trailed down to the raspy, heavy breathing of the Elders below him as he pondered what to ask for. They had obviously heard he was open ears, and were now fearing for their lives much more than they were some seconds prior. Slayer hummed softly to himself. ‘This could be beneficial.’

Don’t get Slayer wrong: he hated the mutts, with a passion. But the Dogs were definitely the better warriors, and no doubt had a hoard of gold that he could sap. Their digging could even be used to keep a tab on Drake and become formidable assets later on. The marauder gave another shrug. “I want five things if I do.” The translator eagerly waved Slayer on to continue. “I want a secure route to the capital of Equestria, at least three Dogs to become my personal spies, a large sum of gold, supplies, and...” He decided to appeal to the Dog’s lifestyle.

“For the Zebra prince to be put under my jurisdiction, and to become my own slave.”

A growl sounded out from one of the equine bodies, and Slayer imagined it was probably Elder Imamu thinking spiteful words about him. Obviously, Slayer wasn’t going to actually make Shamon a slave, but he didn’t want any suspicion for asking to have the prince. He still needed a guide he could believe wouldn’t stab him in the back straight-off, after all.

Grinning heartily, the runt related Slayer’s demands to his Alpha. Lucien scrunched up his brows in apparent confusion and thought—why would the metal thing want a slave if it hated slavers?—but grudgingly nodded with a grunt. The corner of Slayer’s mouth quirked up in interest. Too easy. “Lord Alpha accept terms. On one condition.”

The assassin didn’t hesitate. He had a fair idea what the beast wanted. “Oh? And what condition is that?”

Another round of growling to one another. It went back-and-forth for a time, giving Slayer an opportunity to think about what he was now riskily planning. Selling out the Zebras after everything they had done and were going to do for him, for beasts that were clearly untrustworthy and went against many of Slayer’s moral codes? In frankness, he—

Slayer’s musing was cut off as a simple phrase entered the air. “Lord Alpha want you to kill striped-ponies as proof.”

Once more, without hesitation, Slayer drew one of his pistols and twirled it about artistically before he leveled it at the first shuddering Zebra he saw. The bounty hunter imagined that they were whispering prayers through their binds; for once, the thought left Slayer feeling queasy. But business was business, was it not? Lucien had a twisted, malicious grin on his ugly mug as he watched as Slayer started to wrap his trigger-finger around the demise of the Elders. He paused. “How much?”

The runt of a translator looked confused at the random question. “What?”

Slayer’s eyebrows scrunched up in irritation. “My gold. How much?”

Words were exchanged in guttural growls, all the while Slayer patiently waited. Eventually, an answer was arranged. “Lord Alpha give three striped-pony carts worth gold. Lord Alpha even give gems. Very valuable.”

Slayer nodded; the gold was probably stolen from the Zebras. It was a good deal, all in all. A hell of a good deal. The outcome would be far more of a material victory for the assassin, the Dogs would be effective scouts in his search of Drake through their ability to burrow, and he would even be able to retain Shamon as a gu—

Shamon.

The name froze Slayer’s thinking; a response he hadn’t expected. But why exactly was it that merely thinking of the prince’s name now prevented him from pulling the trigger? Suddenly, Shamon’s voice echoed in Slayer’s head. “‘...You had saved both my life, as well as that of my kin’s at the risk of your own. You asked for no reward, and had no hidden intention. So, yes; I trust you...’”

Trust.

Slayer’s eyes widened, and his aim dropped a fraction of an inch. Shamon... a young man thrusted into the position of a king, innocence not yet wrested away from him, but instead his father; a father he had lost to the very beings Slayer was willing to turn to, at the drop of a hat. Shamon, despite having ample reason to denounce and loathe Slayer for threatening the Elders before, didn’t. He even saved Slayer’s life, though the hunter would never admit to that.

Another fraction of an inch, his aim fell. Lucien’s mad grin fell with it, just a centimeter. But Slayer’s focus wasn’t on the Alpha, or the quivering masses of fur below him, or anything else. His eyes were looking into the past itself, to all the declarations and sworn oaths and vows and promises that Slayer made not only to himself, but to his people, that he’d uphold their beliefs. Including fighting against injustice.

Injustice.

Aiding slavers, even after Slayer risked the one shot at recovering Drake to protect their victims against slavery? The hypocrisy of such actions was causing Slayer’s hand to shake. Shamon had forgiven him, forgiven his transgressions, and stood alongside Slayer still. And here the bounty hunter was, ready to put a bolt through the Elder’s skull. Was Slayer any better than the Diamond Dogs by doing this? Had everything that Slayer had done and swore by under the promise of freedom and honour meant nothing now?

Did any of that still matter though? The question put another hold on Slayer’s thoughts. Killing the Elders would be a blatant sin in the eyes of his people, sure; but did he really have another choice? Slayer couldn’t rely on guides to get him to Drake that could barely defend themselves. And after saving their lives twice, there was no signs of reward for the obvious good deeds he had done. Why should he care about the fate of the Zebras, so long as his own survival succeeded?

Survival.

Slayer’s lips tightened, and his aim was realigned to its former height. That’s right. His survival was paramount. Absolutely nothing came above that; nothing. Not the Diamond Dogs, not the Zebras, not Shamon, or Yuri, or Drake, or the rest of the Cerberus Pirate armada. Slayer, and the extinct traditions and beliefs of his people, was first and foremost in his mind. Always.

...

It greatly surprised Lucien and his whelp when suddenly, Slayer unloaded five lightning-fast shots from his Sabre without hardly moving his body. The assassin glanced up from the smouldering corpses at his feet, and smirked. “No deal.”

Like a parrot, the translator repeated himself, though in a more obnoxious tone of disbelief at the five now-dead Alphas lying on the sandstone. “What?!” Lucien did not look amused, or all that pleased. Was there a glimmer of fear in his one undamaged eye? Slayer liked to think so.

“Did you honestly think I would betray the Zebras, who would just become slaves to you if I abandoned them, when my first contact with your kind was them attacking me?” Slayer jeered. “Please.” The condescending tint in his voice gave way to something more sinister. “Don’t make me laugh.” Harsh exhales left the Elders in relief, which only amplified Slayer’s resolve and words.

“I believe I will get a far better deal if I just gut you and take all of your gold, and then help the Zebras skin the rest of your pack.” As if he had a tick, Slayer shrugged his shoulders yet again. “Nothing personal. Well, not entirely.” His grin intensified as he pointed his blaster towards Lucien’s face. “Word of advice: duck.”

Lucien swiftly ejected himself out of his throne just in time for a large bolt of fire to knock the crude chair over and splinter several of the bones. With a growl, the Alpha launched himself at Slayer with claws drawn, ignoring the stabbing pain of his damaged heel. The assassin stood motionless and waited. When the time was right, he quickly brought his foot up and thrusted it outward.

The boot that collided with Lucien’s face was painful, to say the least. Slayer got some satisfaction from the sensation of the beast’s jaw cracking underfoot as the force of the retaliation sent the Alpha sprawling from the blow. Calmly, Slayer holstered his Sabre and drew his katana once more. ‘I’m going to enjoy this...’

“Let’s cut another deal, shall we?” Slayer began, lazily transitioning his sword from one hand to the other with a sneer. A faint trickle of blood ran down from Lucien’s nose. The sight added a delicious tingle to Slayer’s hands. “How about you release all of your slaves, give me the gold, and swear an oath that you will not antagonize the Zebras ever again? In exchange, I won’t murder your entire pack. How does that sound?”

Slayer’s alternate demands were actually relayed (which definitely surprised him), and Lucien stared incredulously at the assassin. Such gall was never encountered before in the Alpha’s life. This metal-clad striped-pony lover was insane, a bloodlusted killer more savage than any Diamond Dog in history. Lucien decisively shook his head. The mewling translator voiced the message with less resolve. “No deal.”

For the last time that day, Slayer gave a shrug. “As you wish. That was your final out, though.” With finality, Slayer lowered himself into a stance, and almost laughed at the Elders wiggling their way out of the inevitable combat zone. Lucien seemed ready to obtain his club once more, before he glanced at the unmoving form of Slayer.

With an almost respectful nod, Lucien moved away from his weapon, and readied his claws.

For what seemed like years, both participants in the coming battle stood unwavering and frozen in time. Slayer recognized this to be the calm before the storm; a grace period of a one-on-one duel before the limbs began to fly. As much as Slayer despised the Dogs and their slavery-centered ways, he still knew that Lucien and the Alphas were worthy opponents to his skill; the first treasure hoard of valuable combatants he had seen in a long time. So Slayer met his nod, and like that time resumed its natural course, and Lucien lunged with fangs bared.

The beast never even saw Slayer move.

With warfare now a definite, Slayer did not hold back in his light-source. With great, eye-searing clarity, alabaster light consumed Lucien’s vision as Slayer’s two shoulder-mounted floodlights blinded him. The Alpha didn’t know what he hit upon impact, but it certainly wasn’t the bounty hunter. A searing pain arising from his right alerted him to Slayer’s new position.

A roar exited Lucien as he swung blindly, the night-vision advantage granted from before gone in an instant. Slayer nimbly dodged the predictable attacks, unloading swipes and slashes of his own with stern accuracy as blood began coating Lucien’s hide. The bites from Slayer’s katana held no remorse. The ground was going to taste the crimson wrath of Slayer unleashing his fury into the body that was Lucien. Slayer was going to make Lucien regret ever trying to kill him.

Slayer was going to make Lucien regret ever fucking with the assassin’s current associates.

‘Now this is a situation more to my liking,’ Slayer mused during a particularly violent stab of his blade into Lucien’s thigh. With the cones of light rendering Lucien’s one good eye useless, Slayer had near free-reign to casually hack off whichever hunks of flesh and fur he didn’t like on the Alpha’s raging soon-to-be carcass. He even shut off his low-light filter so he could fully appreciate the sight he was participating in. Slayer’s cockiness was not cockiness, either; anyone could have watched five seconds of the battle, and predict the outcome even if the conflict lasted ten minutes.

Slayer was waiting for it. Why Lucien hadn’t dug underground yet for a reprieve and a counter attack was unknown to Slayer, but he didn’t care. His rational, cold, calculating personality was fading away, the elation of ending one really big thorn in his side overriding the little, if any, morality left in the assassin. It might had perturbed Slayer if he had been aware of the dramatic shift. He had nearly betrayed the customs of his people which was his entire justification, after all.

Abruptly, Lucien darted away and haphazardly dug into the sandstone. It gave like butter, offering little resistance as Lucien tore through it with horror clear in his movements. One second, Slayer was watching the Dog’s hairy ass sticking out of the hole he was developing, the next was just a small chasm in his wake.

Setting his stance wide and focusing on the sensations in his feet, Slayer began taunting in a twisted tone. “Don’t run from me, Lucien! You pithy coward—!” Springing to the side, Slayer dodged the breaching form of Lucien rocketing out of the earth and swung the pommel of his sword into the Alpha’s armored back. “Welcome back!”

A feral growl escaped the Dog’s throat as he stumbled to make some distance from Slayer. Dirt coagulated in open wounds, most likely infecting them and ensuring Lucien’s death even if he somehow survived the encounter. Madness was threatening to overcome Lucien. The maniacal rumble of a low laugh leaving the marauder was only making it worse. Slayer had no more words to voice.

What remained was a satanic fire that would only be quelled by the end of Lucien’s existence.

The realization of this fact was what finally drove Lucien over the edge. Wounds meant nothing to him now. Slayer’s blinding light meant nothing to him now. The siege of Nazar meant nothing to him now. He was going to die, of this there was no doubt. But he was going to bring that damned, faceless thing with him. Another roar, somehow ever more vicious, left Lucien as he dashed with renewed vigor. Slayer was expecting a second wind to possibly arrive, but such a powerful gale was unanticipated.

Claws raked his body as Slayer compensated for this new tactic. This was an entirely new dimension of aggression, far more deadly and worse than any previous encounter with the Diamond Dogs. Lucien truly earned his place in commanding the den within the Zebra’s lands, it seemed. Quickly side-stepping out of the way of yet another venomous burst forward from the Alpha, Slayer went to swiftly decapitate the Dog and end the fight before things got bad.

Too late.

A righteous backhand from the enraged Lucien sent Slayer’s blade skittering out of his grasp for the second time in the span of a few hours. Were he not in the very midst of a life-threatening struggle, Slayer would have lamented how shitty his grip had been that day. This time, however, Slayer recalled his Sabres much quicker than the previous brawl, and drew them with surprising speed.

Lucien was undeterred, and ducked under two bolts that flew over his head and burnt clean holes through the linen of the tent. The faint cacophony of battle could be heard outside; the Zebras had regrouped, and the Dogs had followed from the sound of it. Lucien dug his claws into the back of Slayer’s calves from his quadruped stance, the armour barely keeping the finger-mounted blades from slicing Slayer’s feet off. With a heave and a tug, down Slayer went.

For Slayer, his world decided to shift by a solid ninety-degrees. His armoured back crashed against the ground, and once more Lucien was upon him with maw snapping and claws slashing. This experience was far more terrifying to him than the last. Lucien’s eye was not natural; almost glowing of its own volution in the Elder’s tent.

Driving an elbow into the now-most-definitely-broken jaw of Lucien, Slayer tried to get a bead so he could fire his Sabres. But the thrashing mass of the Alpha recognized the danger of the pistols in his maddened state, and clamped down on Slayer’s forearm while digging into the other, pinning him by the wrists before a shot could be unloaded. Slayer’s still-active flashlight illuminated the disheveled, insane grin on Lucien’s irreparable jaw.

As Slayer was preparing to slam his shielded head into Lucien’s nose to loosen his grip and singe the hair off of Lucien’s form, a familiar voice shouted out in a warcry. No more than a moment later, the figure of Shamon flew through the opening of the tent and slammed hooves-first into the ribs of the Alpha. The beast rolled away with a heaving grunt, and the prince stood over Slayer with eyes alight.

Shamon spared a glance down at the assassin, and positioned his forehoof so the flashlights didn’t blind him as well. “Slayer,” he grunted, trying his best to give a cocky grin. “It appears I’ve recovered in the nick of time.” Slayer’s eyes flicked towards Shamon’s hind leg; it was wrapped in gauze, a faint stain showing the location of the wound. Stable, but definitely in no condition to be fighting. Shamon shifting his weight showed how painful the injury still was.

Still, seeing the Zebra not in a catatonic state was relieving to Slayer.

The quip was about to be answered in a similar manner by the bounty hunter, before Lucien came flying right back. Shamon didn’t seem to have his staff readily available, but made due with his hooves as he jutted them out to meet Lucien’s jaw. But Slayer had already performed that trick, and the old dog learnt it quickly. Taking only a millisecond to limbo under the attack without ceasing his surge, Lucien seized Shamon by the underbelly, and off they went into the ground a short distance away.

Sounds of struggling rose Slayer from his shocked state as he flipped himself over. Trying to stand though seemed nigh-impossible. He was confused. What happened? Slayer’s adrenaline was still running rampant in his core, and he felt no damages on his person—

In an instant, the pain came.

Text prompts appeared in Slayer’s vision as he writhed in sudden agony. “Warning. Critical injury sustained. Location: left arm. Damage dealt: broken ulna. Administering pain suppressants...” His arm was broken. Oh no. The prompts marched on. “Warning. Solaris Suit power level: critical. Recommended solution: recharge. T-minus three minutes to full-system shutdown for recovery.” Now was most certainly not the time for this, Slayer had snarled in his mind as he attempted to stand again.

The audio of wrestling came to an abrupt end, and Slayer’s eyes darted over. Lucien had Shamon by the throat, heaving him off the ground by a solid ten feet. Thankfully, the claws were around his esophagus rather than through it. The beast seemed to be gloating, gurgled syllables vowing hatred and insanity in every grunt. He had forgotten about Slayer, for the moment. And Shamon’s movements were gradually slowing.

That was it. He had enough.

 Slayer, throughout his entire life, had assassinated several Rear-Admirals across all three factions, changed the political courses of sectors for decades to come, and made the galaxies’ most dangerous bounties his goddamn bitch. This was not shit he had to sit through, dammit. He was not about to be bested by a sapient, doltish, overgrown, walking fleabitten excuse of a carpet!

With a shaky exhale of breath, Slayer planted his good arm under him and barely stood, teetering on the verge of collapse. He didn’t have enough time to grab his katana, and the assassin could only hold one of his Sabres. Slayer attempted to raise his pistol, but his strength and resolve was already dwindling despite the newfound spirit. Down he went once more, but this time he stopped himself and only fell to one knee. The sound went ignored by Lucien as he continued to suffocate Shamon.

The Sabre clattered to the ground silently into the sand below him. He couldn’t do this. He was too exhausted, the pain suppressants were barely working, and already he could feel the sensation of unconsciousness encroaching in his mind. Slayer knew that the Solaris Suit would soon shutdown, and Shamon would be dead...

Another innocent fallen prey to him trying to help.

Another failure.

Something wet slid down his face. But it was not a tear, for its origin was not his eye. A small video feed popped up upon Slayer’s request, and soon the assassin was staring at a reflection of himself in a small window on the edge of his visor. His eyes widened.

Slayer saw a faint trickle of blood swerve around the corner of his left eye. It was a small, shallow cut. Barely enough for even a dollop of the crimson liquid to flow. But it was enough. As the singular drop rolled down Slayer’s forehead and made a brief deviation around his sight, a sudden violent energy surged through him. Slayer recognized this feeling instantly.

There was many things that had made Slayer famous. One of those was that he seemed to have the uncanny ability to slip through the most impregnable defenses in the middle of the day—wearing his signature armour, no less—as he disposed of his target and escaped with the guards none the wiser. Another was his technological gadgets that rivaled the top-of-the-line gear in the black market. Just his solemn mask, conflicting beliefs, and mysterious identity along with his namesake got his infamy around in harsh whispers of the galaxy.

One factor that contributed to this was something other bounty hunters had started nicknaming as “Desolation”: a state of malicious bloodlust that Slayer had only entered a select number of times, but became renowned for. Usually, he could only reach the physical boons that accompanied the psychological state of mind via... stimulants. But through sheer rage and the sight of his own blood, Slayer could tap into his feral, animalistic side of him with ease. It was an event that many people knew to stay very, very far away from.

Lucien, unfortunately for him, did not know this.

“Warning. Solaris Suit systems will commence shutdown in T-minus sixty seconds.” Slayer worked quickly. Once his Suit powered down, the weight distributors would lose their current and the actual weight of his armor would prevent Slayer from ever hoping to get off the ground in his condition. Slayer reached back down to grab his Sabre, before his fingers brushed something else.

Eyes flashed down for a moment to examine the foreign item. It was a dagger; cruel and almost demonic in its form, small sigils pulsed ominously red in contact with Slayer’s lingering hand. Slayer didn’t know where the small knife came from, but all he knew was that it was going to be the means to an end. Lucien’s end.

With a grunt, Slayer lifted the blade. It was balanced almost perfectly, the ideal size and heft for what he was about to do. Slayer ignored the prompt telling him that his floodlights had shut off to conserve power. That was not a concern; he knew exactly where the Alpha was. Slayer thought about discarding the strange dagger for his Sabre, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to aim in his state without using his still-broken arm to stabilize the shot.

Slayer looked towards Shamon, and somehow even in the darkness their eyes met. A raspy choke left the prince. The sight of his expression, even in the assassin’s strained, natural night-vision was more than enough to fuel Slayer’s determination. Slayer pulled back his hand, and let the blade fly with a shout of pure, unadulterated aggression. Lucien couldn’t react in time before the dagger spun and sunk into the base of the Dog’s cranium, right where it connected to the spine. The beast crumpled instantly.

Lucien, one of the ‘Great Five’, was no more.

Satisfaction rocked Slayer’s system, as the momentum of the throw brought the assassin fully back to the ground. He was smart and aware enough to twist his body before impact to avoid making his arm worse. For a few moments, silence lingered. Slayer thought he had responded too late. But Shamon’s sputtering and attempts to gain breath brought another bout of relief.

“Solaris Suit shutdown will commence in five... four... three...”

Some seconds later, the Suit shut down, and Slayer vaguely felt the actual weight of his armour bearing down on him. It didn’t matter, though. He won. In one final, weak flourish during his last round of consciousness, Slayer feebly rose his undamaged hand, gave the middle finger to Lucien’s corpse, and promptly lost said consciousness, as Shamon rushed towards his form.





Starbrought





“Ah, Mr. Shields!” Captain Silver Flash exclaimed as she rushed to the alien’s side, dual blades promptly sheathing themselves for a brief moment amongst the ship-to-ship battle. “So good to see you finally getting into the thick of things.”

“I apologise for being late, but I needed my effects.” With a smirk, Drake twirled his own sword about, its glow illuminating him and his surroundings, as well as repelling weary pirates from the Silent Rogue currently onboard. Being distracted by the human’s weapon made them a vulnerable target for Cadance’s guards and Silver’s crew to dispatch and create space for the brief reunion.

“Better late than never,” Cadance quipped. A trio of pirates stalked towards her, but before any of her guards could neutralize them, a powerful pink shockwave from her horn sent them sprawling across the deck of the Serenade. “Do you know where Sergeant Armor is?”

“Not in the battle, I’m guessing?” A quick glance at her shaking head caused him to snort. “Hmm. I suppose he’ll be back eventually.” Drake barely parried away a sword aimed for his sternum, a thin gash piercing his coat and his skin, before he slammed the pommel of his blade against his foe’s temple. The rather-large griffin fell into unconsciousness before it hit the floorboards. Drake merely grimaced at the sensation of his blood trickling from the small wound. “Could someone enlighten me as to who exactly is attacking us?”

“A brutish pirate captain named Redhorn,” Silver responded. “He’s a Minotaur; big hulking beast, with a blood-red horn on his head. It seems that even after all of these years, he’s still coming after me.”

“You know him?”

Silver Flash gave a grim smile. “You could say that.”

“Ah, old flame. Got it.” A pegasus dove toward Drake, and was met with the business end of the human’s boot for her troubles. Seeing Silver’s unamused expression, he shrugged. “Or maybe not?”

“Definitely not. He’s been hunting me down ever since I left my piracy behind me.” A leering underling got too close, and suffered the consequences as Silver’s dual swords whipped about in a flurry and resheathed themselves. The bastard didn’t even have a chance to counter, Drake inferred. A sigh brought Drake out of his thought. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

Drake grinned, and lowered his stance. “Then I suppose I should give you another opportunity to, eh?”

Before Silver Flash could comment on what he said, Drake bounded forward into a sprint, swinging his energy-sword in wide, destructive arcs. With little regard nor pause in his slashing, he began carving a path through the Silent Rogue’s forces. Silver stared on in shock, along with Cadance and several others, before she recovered her senses. “Protect the alien! Guard him with your lives, my mates!”

“Aye aye, Capt’n!” the pirates bellowed. Following Drake’s surge, the other crewmembers rushed to his defense, eliminating those not already struck down by the human’s saber. This reawoken passion in the Serenade’s forces proved fruitful, as abruptly the tide of battle shifted in favour of them. The Rogue’s invaders, unable to hold their positions any longer, began hastily withdrawing back onto their vessel.

A toothy snarl appeared on Drake’s face. “Oh, you’re not getting away that easily!” With another battlecry, and with the Serenade’s company trailing behind fiercely, Drake leapt onto the opposing ship.
 
Silver Flash grinned at his initiative, and turned to Cadance. “Stay here, would you? I need to accompany Mr. Shields on the forefront of this battle.” The Princess merely nodded, surprise at the change of battle still marring her features. Silver addressed the remaining crew on her craft. “The rest of you lot! An extra ration of drink for every one of Redhorn’s bastards you keep off the Serenade!” Her declaration was met with excited cheers from her crew. “And ready another volley of the arcane cannons; on my signal, lads!”

Across the gap between the two ships, Drake waded his way through the enemy pirates. By now, Redhorn’s crew was barely smart enough to stay just out of reach of his energy cutlass. The air around the ships was thick with smoke from the Rogue’s now-derelict arcane cannons, often obscuring those nearby. Drake was often seen as little more than a glowing blue silhouette in the smoke, cleaving its way through any poor soul foolish enough to attack the man.

A pegasus and unicorn, both having the smallest grasp of tactics about them, tried to tag-team Drake; a magic Fire-based blast from the front, and an aerial attack from the back. It had almost worked, except the unicorn quickly tasted the heel of Drake’s boot as the human spun ‘round and kicked him toward the crew of the Serenade advancing. Needless to say, he was disposed with almost instantaneously. The pegasus was also quickly disposed of with a crippling shoulder throw into the floorboards, causing Drake to grin. He was starting to enjoy himself some. 

Most of the Rogue’s crew were unfortunate enough to not see the Serenade boarding party, who were spilling over the railing like rats, through the haze of smoke. Pirates met privateers in a clash of steel as the two groups charged each other. Magic spells of all types flew this way and that. Weapons were knocked aside and blood spilled across the deck like water.

Another unicorn who saw an opportunity to attack Drake fired off a volley of Frost-related spells, determined to take down the man. One caught him on his shoulder, sending Drake stumbling back and hissing in pain as ice encompassed his shoulder. The unicorn shouted in victory, only to be silenced by the metallic ringing of Drake’s plasma pistol putting a round through his horn. No one noticed Silver Flash wincing in sympathy as the enemy pirate collapsed from trauma.

Drake gritted his teeth as he used the butt of his pistol to smash apart the obstruction to his sword-arm. A griffon charged Drake head on, a tower shield clutched in her claws as she advanced on him. Drake fired several rounds from his pistol at the shield, only for them to be deflected inches from the metal by an enchantment.

“Fuckin’ magic,” he hissed as he holstered his pistol and readied his cutlass. With his attention on the griffon, he failed to see the unicorn step up behind him, a large halberd raised above his head in a magical aura and ready to come crashing down on Drake.

A flash of silver light knocked the offender sideways, sending his polearm crashing into a pair of pirates. Drake looked behind him at the sound, only to find the dazed unicorn collapsed a few feet away. The griffon took advantage of the distraction and charged, only to be run through by a pair of floating swords, suspended in a field of silver magic.

“You’re a damn fool, charging off like that,” Silver Flash said as she dropped down next to Drake. Her blades removed themselves from their bloody sheath and returned to float idly in the air, awaiting further use. “Did you really think you could take on an entire ship full of enemies by yourself?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Drake said with a laugh. His face fell slightly as he took to surveying the deck of the Rogue, indiscriminately headshotting those unaware with his pistol. “Thanks for the save, though. Didn’t even see him back there.”

Silver merely shook her head. “Yeah, sure.” Concern began rising on her face as she stood alongside Drake. “No sign of Redhorn. Perhaps he’s down below?”

“Not much of a captain if he is,” Drake quipped.  “Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’s abandoned ship after my oh-so-daring feat of destroying his other ship?” Again, Silver shot him an unamused look at his bragging. He shrugged. “A man can dream, can he not?”

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by the Rogue lurching. Silver Flash, however, seem unperturbed by the rocking motion as she turned around in irritation and began shouting across the way. “I thought I said fire the cannons on my command! What, have you all become daft over there when I wasn’t looking?!”

Both Elaweda and Cadance, the pair visible on the Serenade near the controls to the vessel, glanced at each other in confusion. Horror dawned on both of them as Cadance yelled. “We didn’t fire anything, Silver!”

The two captains felt their eyes widen as they spoke simultaneously. “What?”

Another quake, this time centered towards the bow of the Silent Rogue, made itself known. In fact, it was so apparent and massive, that the battle temporarily fell into a lull. Wearily, they looked down at the floorboards below them, wondering if the engines were starting to explode and jeopardize the ship.

These fears were assuaged when one of the hatches to access the depths of the ship were turned to splinters from some unknown impact. A dark, low, and menacing growl bellowed forth from the interior of the ship, causing the pirates from the Rogue to hastily run to the railings as shards of metal and wood rained down. As far as they could get away from the gaping hole in the floor.

Silence conquered the two crafts as they sat there, suspended in midair. No further movement from the crevice occurred, and as such the lack of anything happening was beginning to make Silver Flash uneasy. Looking towards the pirates and seeing them rooted to the spot, her mouth tightened. “Diamond Dreams.” The aforementioned crewmember gave a salute. “Toss a keg.”

The order was received instantly, it seemed. Quickly navigating across the deck of the enemy ship, the unicorn privateer hefted one of the undamaged powder kegs that was most likely used to reload the inferior cannons, and set it ablaze. With careful aim, the barrel was flung into the dark abyss of the ship.

No one was expecting the keg to come flying back, however.

“Brace!” This time, the boarding party of the Serenade could respond. Leaping and flying out of the way, they cleared the point of impact just as the powder keg made contact. The result of this meeting caused a deafening explosion to ring across the sky, leaving yet another gaping hole in the floor. Silver sneered, and her swords expressed their mistresses’ rage. “Redhorn! I know you’re down there. Reveal yourself.”

Dark laughter sounded out from below, though from which hole Drake couldn’t tell. So it surprised everyone when two Redhorns emerged, one for each opening into the deck of the Rogue. The dual minotaurs, perfectly identical to one another, were sights to see. Each towered over even Drake by a full three feet, and their brownish-grey fur jutted out savagely, as if proper maintenance hadn’t been performed in years. True to his namesake, the two Redhorns each had a singular, jagged horn extend from their foreheads, looking more like a bloodied curved spear than a piece of coloured bone.

The two clones spoke in unison, their deep bass causing the air around them to almost visibly ripple. “We meet again, Captain Flash.”

Drake’s brows furrowed. It didn’t appear that either of the Redhorns had any weapons on them. Or clothes, for that matter. The only apparel that the man could see was two rings on each hand, one on the middle and ring fingers, respectively. Silver Flash seemed to care less about said jewelry, the lack of pants, or the multiple minotaurs as her duo of swords began cutting agitated lines in the floorboards. “You have some guts to think you could ever best me in a ship-to-ship battle. Especially when I’m on an escort-mission issued by the Celestial Sisters.”

A lazy shrug was his response. “I figured your cockiness would finally do you in today.” Redhorn gave an indignant, almost disgusted look towards Drake. “Is that what you’re escorting? If so, I can see why those self-righteous alicorns sent you on this mission; I wouldn’t want such a thing in my territory, either.” He glowered. “In fact, I still don’t.”

Drake assumed a cocky grin as he stepped forward. “I know I’m not the handsomest, but surely I look better than you. Right, Captain?” Silver Flash gave a grin of her own and shrugged. Drake held a hand over his heart. “Oh, you wound me.” Letting his arm fall away, he let it fall to the grip of his pistol. “Regardless, I think you need some manners. I’d be happy to instruct you.”

Before anyone could move, Drake drew his pistol and fired a round at the closest Redhorn. The shot cut through the apparition like butter, leaving an arcane mist in its wake before it was taken away with a gust. Turning his arm and pulling his trigger at the remaining stunned Redhorn, Drake frowned at the lack of a bolt firing from the chamber. He glanced at the holo-screen.

“Recharging?!”

The minotaur recovered quickly from that development, and smirked. “Looks like you bet on the wrong bull, worm. Such a pity.” With a snap of his fingers, the mist returned and reformed into a madly-grinning clone once again. The real Redhorn turned his attention to Silver Flash, pointedly ignoring Drake. “I’m amazed you let such a thing speak and act for you, Captain Flash. I thought you were at least good enough to handle things yourself.”

Silver’s eyebrow twitched at the mocking tone in which he said her rank. “Mr. Shields has obviously proven that he is more than capable of handling this situation in my stead.” A quick glance to actually confirm if Drake would be alright with this came positive as a passionate, though nervous fire shown in the human’s eyes. “Right, Mr. Shields?”

Drake chuckled as he drew his saber, masking whatever unease he felt as he activated it with a flick of his wrist. “I wouldn’t mind putting this cow into its place.”

Redhorn’s eyes, for the briefest of moments, ignited with divine fury at the taunt before they settled. “If you wish to fight me, worm, then how about we make this interesting.” He jabbed a thumb at the sides of the Rogue, indicating its crew still rooted to the spot, too petrified of their captain’s phantom to move or continue fighting. “If you win, you take the spoils: my crew, my ships, and my cargo are yours. But if you lose...”

Redhorn made his intent clear by pointing over the side of the ship. “You, Captain Flash, and that pink pony Princess on your ship will become my prisoners. And the rest of Captain Flash’s crew will go overboard.”

Silver brisled and her swords whipped frantically about herself, nearly impaling Drake in her seething anger. Her glare could petrify basilisks, and apparently the rest of her crew as well. “Threaten the livelihood of my crew again, Redhorn—you exiled, racist bastard—and I will crush you before Mr. Shields has a chance to blink!”

The human raised a hand. “Captain. Calm down.” Silver Flash begrudgingly ceased her aggression, or at bare-minimum stopped being a safety hazard for his health. His eyes met hers as he gave a confident, cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it; I can handle this.”

For a moment, Silver appraised Drake, as if actually weighing his chance of success in the fight. He was much shorter and biologically weaker, now that she thought about it. He had no ‘magic’ that she knew of, and it seemed his ranged-weapon was out of ammunition, for the time being. On top of all of that, Redhorn had a ghost of himself that was most likely for more than show. Was it really wise to send him into a two-on-one conflict instead of herself? One look into his determined eyes settled her doubt as she smiled. “Then I’ll leave it to you, Mr. Shields.”

Turning back to the minotaurs, Drake watched as the unarmed pirate and his shadow strolled leisurely into the center of the Rogue’s deck. Likewise, Drake took his position on the opposite side. Redhorn’s voice that sounded more fit to be an avalanche than a way of communication rang out. “There are no rules to this duel. We fight until you die, or you cower and beg for me to spare you.”

Drake squinted in concentration as he twirled his cutlass about. “And I’m a pretty pony princess.” He snorted, and smirked as Cadance shouted ‘Hey!’

Taking the initiative, Drake leapt at the real Redhorn, bringing his cutlass down in a wide slash to amputate an arm. The minotaur spun out of the way, surprisingly nimble for a beast his size and for hoofed-legs so scrawny in comparison. Bellowing a grunt, he snatched a pair of blades from what little of his crew had gathered behind him, and threw them.

The smaller of the two weapons, a short-sword the length of Drake’s forearm, moved faster than anticipated and nicked Drake’s arm before he could even think of dodging it. The other weapon, a greatsword, missed him by several feet, but provided enough of a distraction for the apparition to seize it and close the gap between the two of them. It swung the pommel of its weapon down mercilessly at Drake’s head. 

Drake however was quick to parry the greatsword with his own weapon, barely able to move aside the massive tool and lunge inward. Without any resistance, Drake’s cutlass plunged into the depth’s of the phantom’s chest, the heat of the energy blade so intense that the form of Redhorn appeared to shimmer. Unleashing a grunt of what sounded like realistic pain, it retreated with its injury. Redhorn immediately took its place with a kick to repel Drake back, and was rewarded with a resounding crack as his hoof made contact with the human’s chest.

“Fucking hell!” Drake wheezed. “What do they feed you?” He winced as he straightened back up; he was positive that was worth a cracked rib or two. Looking back up and readying his saber, it fell slightly when he found the two minotaurs each wielding what appeared to be a crude formation of a warhammer and a ridiculously oversized axe in each of their hands, and each made out of solid magic and glowing a sinister red.

“Magic. Fucking magic.” Drake let out a groan as he readied himself once again. “Next time, I’m taking Slayer’s advice and keeping spare grenades on me.” 

With a bellowing roar that shook the ship below them, the real Redhorn charged, swinging his abominations of weaponry in an enormous arc. Drake dropped flat against the deck as the magic warhammer in the minotaur’s right hand rushed overhead with more speed than he thought it should be allowed. 

But Drake, seeing his opportunity, reared his cutlass back into a stab to pierce Redhorn’s abdomen. Unfortunately, his haste to finish the fight made him exposed to the fact that Redhorn was more than capable of stopping his warhammer and bringing it back around in a backhand arc. Said fact which was proven accurate as it crashed into Drake and flung him into the railings of the ship.

Ribs met wooden supports at a rate of velocity that they probably shouldn’t have. A grunt of pain left Drake as he attempted to recover, already feeling a bit of blood and bile rising from his core. He spat a glob of the stuff, knowing his injuries were already catching up and hindering him. He barely recovered in time to roll out of the way of Redhorn’s axe whistling down and tearing through the railing like it never existed in the first place.

Silver Flash was anxiously pawing the ground, her anxiety expressed through her two swords writhing in the air, waiting to leap in yet knowing they wouldn’t. This was an honourable duel, or at least the closest one could get to a fair fight amongst pirates. Her involving herself would most likely do more harm than good; not only for Drake, but for herself and her crew.

Still, she was having difficulty just sitting there watching Drake desperately dodge the two Redhorns and their dual-wielded advances. Any chance of riposte on the human’s side proved futile and near-impossible as the minotaurs mocked him simultaneously. “Oh, come now. Surely you can do better than this, worm.”

A particular swing happened to catch the light of the two rings on that hand. Silver’s eyes widened as she connected the dots and shouted. “Mr. Shields! The rings! They’re controlling the magic for the weapons and clone; aim for the rings!”

The real Redhorn spun at her shouts, fury blazing in his eyes. “Shut your mouth, you stupid—”

His shout turned into a howl of pain as Drake rose up behind him and, using a crate for increased leverage, sprang onto the minotaur’s back and slammed the pommel of his saber against the back of Redhorn’s head. The jump rustled the pain in his chest from the accumulated wounds, but Drake was determined to take the advantage. Holding onto dear life with his free hand to grasp at Redhorn’s furry shoulder, Drake cleaved Redhorn’s horn in half with a downward slash. The cow stumbled forward from the agony, and Drake would have continued his attack and impaled the back of Redhorn’s skull, if not for a chunk of wood now being swung over the minotaur’s back and straight for Drake’s head.

With a heave, Drake pulled himself over Redhorn’s shoulder just in time to dodge the blunt object, and landed before Redhorn. The minotaur, still doubled over from his attempt to jostle Drake and the loss of his horn, left himself open, and Drake took the opportunity as he lashed out, and severed the fingers—rings and all—on Redhorn’s left hand.

A furious roar left the beast as it used its remaining fingers on its right hand to ball up a fist and whack Drake in the center of his chest. Drake rolled backwards and slammed up against the railing of the Rogue once more. He was slow to get back on his feet, but was grinning madly even though his own blood was starting to run profusely down his face.

“That’s a bit better, isn’t it?” Drake laughed as he shuddered from his internal bleeding. His satisfaction only increased as he watched the phantom fade away with a pained screech. “Levels the playing field a bit better.”

“Son of a whore!” Redhorn spat. “I’ll tear your heart out and wear it as a trophy!”

A disgusted look crossed Drake’s face. “That doesn’t sound sanitary. And what would you do when it started to decay? Then it would just smell bad.”

Redhorn roared at him again, and raised his magic warhammer, now half its former size and looking far less solid than it used to. Drake dodged the first strike and with considerable effort punched the minotaur in the snout. His next strike brought his boot to meet the back of Redhorn’s knee, bringing him crashing to the deck. 

As Drake moved in for the killing strike, determined to plunge his sword through the minotaur’s throat and finally end the battle, Redhorn brought his arcane weapon to bare, and struck one of Drake’s ankles. Drake collapsed to his side, howling in pain and dropping his sword, which immediately powered off when it fell. Redhorn kicked the lone hilt, and sent it clattering across the deck and allowing him to get between it and Drake. 

“And now, you have no weapon,” he sneered at the hunched-over human with an undoubtedly-broken ankle. “Allow me to show you some hospitality.” Redhorn raised his weapon above his head, and Drake snapped to attention, pulling a small, black cube out of his coat.

“I’m all good on your ‘hospitality’. Let me show you my ‘thanks’!” The side of the cube facing Redhorn opened up, and a light to rival the intensity of the sun flared right into Redhorn’s eyes. He stumbled back, eyes watering and snarling in pain.

Drake was back on his feet and limping around Redhorn, doing his best to keep his wounded ankle out of harm’s way. Silver Flash, however, was nearly on the verge of intervening, regardless of the outcome. Things were not looking good for Mr. Shields, and if he couldn’t recover, he’d die; no way Redhorn would let him live after what had happened. Silver Flash would never be able to forgive herself if it came to that, and yet she was forced to remain on the sidelines.

Meanwhile, Drake was learning that removing one of his legs from the equation of evasion was a difficult thing to overcome when faced with the mass of rage known as a partially-horned Redhorn. At several times, Drake barely avoided his beheading by skittering under the lanky goat-legs supporting the pirate, and going on all fours to compensate and retain his balance. He was nearly there, just at the cusp of diving and grabbing the hilt of his cutlass, when Redhorn somehow outmaneuvered him and slammed the hammer in his path.

“I don’t think so!” With a roar, Redhorn unleashed another backhand strike with his uninjured fist, this blow also landing and sending Drake flying. Drake slammed back-first into the tallest of the Rogue’s two masts, the wind knocked from him. “Nowhere left for you to run, little worm.”

“At least the ship isn’t made of metal,” Drake wheezed, pulling himself back to his feet by using the mast as a support. He gripped one of the ropes dangling from above, holding onto it like his very life depended on it. In actuality, it probably did.

“Any last requests?” Redhorn laughed as he advanced on Drake. Around them, his crew cheered for their captain. 

“Just one,” Drake hissed. “Go shove a canary up your coal mine.” In a swift movement, he drew his pistol from where he had holstered it, the holographic display on its side displaying the words ‘Recharge Cycle Complete’. 

Redhorn swung his reclaimed hammer at Drake’s throat, determined to take his head off in a single blow. But Drake was faster, ducking under the head even as he raised his pistol. Redhorn’s weapon sank into the mast with a dull thunk, severing several ropes tied along it as it did so. 

“Ha! I win!” Drake shouted, as he lined the sight on his pistol with the center of Redhorn’s forehead. In the split second before Drake could pull the trigger, the rope he had wrapped around his wrist for support suddenly tightened painfully.

And yanked Drake, who screamed all the way, high up into the air and onto the top-yard of the mast.

“Run all you want you cowardly worm; you can’t escape me that easily!” Redhorn bellowed as he made to climb the Rogue’s rigging.

First his ankle, now his wrist. Drake thanked whatever higher power there was that Slayer and Yuri weren’t around to watch this. He peered over the edge of the top-yard, practically dragging himself over, and immediately spotted the one thing that made his heart sink to the lowest pits in his stomach. 

His pistol was lying on the deck below, right next to the hilt of his sword.

“I take it back,” he grumbled. “The powers that be can go suck an egg.”

“How nice of you to be lying down, ready to die.” Drake glanced over his shoulder as Redhorn climbed onto the top-yard, the stub of his horn sparking and fizzing as he summoned his tool into being.

“How about we put of the dying? Sound good?” Drake groaned. “Because I’ve got plans to drink my way through this pain and there is a nice bottle of whiskey under my bed back on my ship that I’m just dying to crack open.”

“Tough shit, you pathetic creature. Only option you have left is at the end of my magic.”

“And wrong again,” Drake said, coughing as his laugh hurt his chest. “I’m not the pathetic creature here. And I’ve got two options.” Redhorn paused, looking at the wounded human in confusion. “I can, like you said, be killed by you. But I’m not a fan of that.” Drake shot him a wicked grin. “Instead, I’m going to go with option two. And it’s what I do best.”

“And just what would that be?” Redhorn demanded. 

“Something incredibly stupid!” Still grinning like the foolhardy son of a bitch he was, Drake rolled himself off of the side of the top-yard and dropped to the deck below. Redhorn peered over the edge, befuddlement completely wracking his features, before he saw Drake supported midair by a small field of silver-hued magic, with his pistol aimed right at Redhorn. 

A single shot rang out. And Redhorn knew no more. 

Stunned silence fell across both ships as both crews watched Redhorn’s corpse fall off the top-yard and smash his head open against the side railing. The only thing keeping his mass from tumbling over the edge of the Rogue was the fact that his right arm had been snagged within a jagged crevice, and gave no leave.

Silver Flash set Drake down, and floated a sizeable piece of wood over to him to use as a cane for support. Redhorn’s former crew looked back at the bloodied and battered human, who stood proud and tall, looking right back at them.

“It is my understanding that the late Redhorn ruled over you, and those who lived in his so-called ‘territory’ did so with nothing but fear and intimidation commanding them. He was truly a dishonorable captain, and quite frankly, he didn’t deserve the title.”

Reclining gently against his makeshift cane, more to relax a moment than to test its strength, he continued. “I offered him a fair fight, but he used magic. And in kind, I cheated as well with some ‘magic’ of my own design. Honour amongst thieves, and all that. In the end, however, I have emerged victorious. And now I offer you lot who served under him a choice.”

Drake hobbled to the center of the deck, all eyes watching him carefully. “The Silent Rogue is mine!” He glared about at Redhorn’s former crew as he continued on, all the way to Redhorn’s disgusting form. Not even bothering to remove the two rings of potential interest from the corpse's hand, Drake unceremoniously kicked it overboard, and watched the body fall into the forest below. He turned back with a dark look in his eyes. “If you’ve any problems with that, flee now... or join your former captain by taking a short walk and a very long drop.”

He turned again and made his way toward the Rogue’s wheel, unhindered by a single soul. “For those who stay, will be free of tyranny. Free of a son of a bitch who deserved what he got.” Some of Redhorn’s crew were mumbling as Drake spoke, but those who were looked excited, and in support of Drake. “And I will be your Captain!”

“Yeah!” some of them cheered.

“You will sail under my colors, and we will give our enemies no quarter!”

“Yeah!” More voices piled on, this time.

“We’ll take as we please! And live by our own rules! No longer will you be forced to live as Redhorn forced you, skirting the edges of countries for fear of their armies coming after you! No more shall you be paid a trifle amount for risking your lives!”

“About time!” By now, most of Redwhore’s crew were shouting in agreement with Drake.

“For Redhorn was twisted and cruel, his so-called ‘empire’ corrupt and weak! And I’m going to take everything he claimed was his. Starting with this ship!” Taking his free hand and holding onto the wheel for his support, Drake raised his cane-filled hand into the air. “And when his enemies and mine come for us, they’ll see us for what you truly couldn’t be under Redhorn’s weak leadership. They’ll see us for what we truly are!” He accentuated his next words with thrusts of his cane upwards. “Pirates! The scourge of sky, sea, and space itself!”

“Long live Captain Shields!” a female griffin near the back of the crowd shouted. Others mimicked her shouts, and in moments, the deck of the Rogue was echoing with shouts of ‘Long live Captain Shields! Long live Captain Shields!’. 

“He can’t do that, can he?” Cadance whispered to Silver Flash in baffled astonishment, as the two of them watched Drake’s new crew cheer for him.

Silver Flash let out a laugh. “Sorry, but I think he just did.”





Starbrought





“Ah, I see you have finally joined us, Marshall. We may begin the meeting now.” 

“I apologize.” Cobalt took his seat at the head of the conference table. The meeting was taking place in the senior conference room, which had an actual window in it that showed a rather beautiful view of the griffin capital. The solid ebony table was a perfect ellipse, with a green P.R.I.C.K attached in the dead center. Nine griffins currently sat or stood around the table, with several more standing in the corners of the room. 

At the very end of the elliptical table stood a regal-looking female griffin. A royal red coat decorated her back with six small black leafs adorned on each shoulder. A scar crossed her left eye and continued down diagonally to her jaw, which only added to the fierce look that permanently was painted on her face. Her black head feathers stood out brilliantly against the gold of her coat.  Her name was Natalya, and she was one of the three Grand Marshals of the Griffin Empire, the highest military rank one could achieve.

To her left stood the commander of the garrison at Black Rock. He was a massive griffin, easily towering above everyone in the room. He was dressed in midnight-black combat armor, with two swords capped inside scabbards on his back. A bored look decorated his rugged face.

The rest of the attendees were the heads from the various departments around the base, including the Head of Sciences. The only other person not from the base was the king’s personal aide, who had been sent by the king to monitor the situation. The smaller white-coated griffin stood in the back of the room, silently watching and writing in a bounded notebook.

The Chief of Staff for the base stood up and coughed to bring attention to himself. “Since all of our participants seem to have arrived, the meeting is now commenced. Marshall Cobalt has the floor.”

“Thank you.” Looking out towards the others across from him, he began. “Due to the urgency of the situation currently happening, I’m going to get right down to business. As most of you know, or are about to find out, the base is currently in a Level-3 Lockdown. Everything is sealed shut, guards activated; you know the drill.”

“Why exactly is the base sealed down, Marshall?” Natalya spoke, drawing the attention of everyone in the room to her. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but a Level-3 Lockdown is only issued if an object or entity of extraordinary danger or value is lost. And since this base has been under your command, you have yet to issue one until now.”

“You are correct. I approved this Lockdown because of an incident that occurred several hours ago with a creature and several guards.”

“What kind of creature are we talking about here? Magical? Ancient?”

“I’ll let Dr. Silver Beak, the Head of Sciences explain it from here.” Cobalt sat back down in his chair with a loud thump. An older-looking griffin stood up, dressed up in the stereotypical lab coat and horn-rimmed glasses.

“Thank you, Marshall. Everyone, the creature that we are dealing with currently is unlike anything we have ever seen, or hopefully will see in our entire lifetime.” He paused for a moment, taking a glance at the table’s confused looks. ‘Let me start off with a brief history of how this creature was brought to Black Rock, as it helps make what I’m about to say more believable. If you could please open the manila envelope that was given to you and open to page three.” The sound of folders opening and papers rustling filled the room. Silence settled as people began to read, and after several minutes went by, Beak spoke up again.

“Now before you start asking a lot of questions very quickly, let me explain some details: the creature was found unconscious in the middle of the Zebrican Desert by a scouting party trying to reach the unknown meteor or object that fell from the skies two days ago. Following protocol that it might be a cryptid or some kind of mutated minotaur, as the basic shape is somewhat similar, it was brought here to Black Rock. The creature had several strange objects on it when the squad discovered it, but they have since disappeared from the vault where it has escaped from.”

“What do you mean by strange objects?” Natalya raised her eyebrows.

“The sketches taken by the two scientists who examined the creature first are on the next page, including the notes that they jotted down.”

“Where are these scientists now?” 

“Currently in the medical and psych ward being treated and debriefed. They have a bit of trauma from the guard incident, but we managed to get some crucial interviews from them,” Cobalt mentioned. 

“Dr. Beak, I’m confused on what these notes are saying. The doctors you brought in to examine it are cryptid researchers, but they clearly say multiple times that this creature matches up with no known cryptid that they know of that could exist on this planet. What exactly is this thing?” The Chief of Staff continued to stare at the paper trying to make some sense of it, but it was a failed effort. The room got very quiet, as no one had an answer, or would give an answer.

“It’s simple really. Only one explanation makes sense in all of this. It’s not from this planet.” And at that exact moment before all hell broke lose in the room, the P.R.I.C.K in the table received a call. Everyone stopped and stared at the glowing crystal, the faint hum of magic echoing off the marble walls. 

“Who the hell is calling at a time like this? I’m going to have someone’s head.” Cobalt hit the side of the crystal with a large amount of force, rocking the table. “Who and why are you calling?!” Silence followed for a few moments, as well as Cobalt's blood pressure. 

“Hello? Hello...? Is this bloody thing on?”

        Cobalt flinched. The accent on the voice was one that he had never heard in his entire life, and chills flew down his spine. Who in the hell thought it wise to put this through? He was going to have the head of the current Operator manning the relay station. “Is this some kind of joke? Who the hell is this?!”

        “Who the hell are you?!”

        “I’m the damn head of this base—”

        “Oh, good; this worked. I thought for a moment I had been tricked.” Cobalt turned and looked down to see the ID of the P.R.I.C.K that was on the other end of the line. ‘This can’t be right... this is from Colonel Greyskull. He’s way beyond the area of the quarantine zone.’

        “Let me ask you something again: who the hell are you, and why are you on my damn comms?!”

        “Oh, come on. Have you not figured out who this is? Do I need to play some version of Twenty Questions with you?” Cobalt's face suddenly lost color as the full extent of the situation. The room was deathly silent, with several confused expressions painted on the griffins’ faces. 

“Marshall, what is the problem? Who are you talking to?” Natalya moved over to where Cobalt was standing in disbelief. 

“How… How the hell did it break out of the Lockdown?! There is no way that this can be happening. That Lockdown should be able to hold any creature on this planet and keep them there.”

“You realize I’m right here, yes?”

Cobalt whirled onto the P.R.I.C.K. “How the hell did you break out of the Lockdown?!”

The voice on the other end snickered so quietly it might’ve not happened. “Lockdown? What do you mean?” it replied cheekily.

“The Lockdown that was supposed to keep creatures like you locked up!” Cobalt shouted, the veins in his forehead starting to become vivid against his feathers. “You made a stupid judgement giving your location away like this, and you’ll pay the price for it.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, let’s turn it down a notch. Do you really think that I would just purposefully reveal my position to an unknown person just for shits and giggles? I have something to—”

“You can tell it to the prison cell that you’re going to be locked in for the rest of your life.” Cobalt turned to the Commander of the Guards, a look of pure rage in his face. “Commander, inform the Titans of its position and capture it. I’m ending this now.”

“I would really not do that, if I was you. Not if you want to see your city be destroyed—”

Cobalt turned to shut off the P.R.I.C.K. But before his talons could cancel the magic, Natalya’s talon snapped out and grabbed his. He turned his face in surprise to be greeted by the stoic expression of Grand Marshal Natalya. Even with Cobalt's decades of experience in battle, her piercing green eyes sent shivers down his spine. 

“Commander Highridge, you will decline that order and you will stay put. Do I make myself understood?” He understood so well he didn’t even know her order had caused him to sit on his haunches. It took himself considerable effort to stand again after such a harsh order.

“Marshall Cobalt; get out of the way.” Cobalt nodded and backpedalled to the side as she walked over to the P.R.I.C.K. She cleared her throat and began to speak. “My name is Grand Marshal Natalya of the Altai Dominion, chief administrator of both this facility and the surrounding district here in Gryphon. If you have a name, please give it to me.”

“Finally, someone who knows some basic manners. My name is Yuri, Madame Natalya.”

She squinted her eyes at that. “Flattery will get you absolutely nothing here. The only reason that you’re not being hunted down like a rat right now is because of what you just stated about saving this city.”

“Heh, you don’t seem like someone I should be joking around with. Fine by me; yes, what I said was true.”

“For your sake, I want you to explain to me what exactly you meant, and I would heavily suggest choosing your words wisely.”

A snort arose from the other side of the relay. “Calm your… beak? Yeah, calm your beak for a moment.” Natalya’s wings bristled at the blatant disrespect. “I’m not threatening your people, but the complete opposite in fact. I want to save your people.”

“Save them for why and from what? You?”

“I may be much more advanced than you, but I’m not that powerful. But, I’m not telling you anything right now over this really weird crystal.”

“Oh? Is that so?” some of the nearby griffons uncomfortably shuffled away from the progressively-irritated Grand Marshal.

“Yea, it is so. I know that you know exactly where I am. So here is my offer: come down and meet me in the flesh, and I’ll tell you everything that you could ever want to know.”

“Why would I do that? How do I know that you are not going to try and kidnap me to get what you want?”

“I understand your suspicions, but I’m not an idiot. If I tried to kidnap any of you, or even harm you, I would die faster than getting thrown out of an airlock. Why do you think I haven’t killed a single individual yet since my escape?” Silence answered, for no one had a decent rebuttal. “Besides, if I wanted to fight my way out, we would not be having this conversation right now.” 

“...And if I don’t?”

“Then you’re condemning your entire city to ruin, and the deaths of thousands will be specifically on your head. Now... how do I turn this damn thing off? Is it this—*zap*—ow! Son of a mother fu—” A resounding ‘click’ echoed around the dead-silent room. Natalya stood in silence for a moment, staring out the window at the sprawling capital. 

“Marshall Cobalt, have your Titans escort me and yourself to the room. Seal off all the exits and make sure that nothing gets in or out. Have a breaching team on standby in case this goes sour.” She turned to the aide that had been motionless the entire ordeal. “You are to stay in this room. The last thing I need is to have the damn nobles getting involved in something like this.”

And with that, she walked out of the room towards her possible doom.





Starbrought





Soldiers marched rank-and-file through the jungle, their full-body armour glinting in the gloom of the morning sun. They had traced a transport vessel that had crashed on the surface a few hours ago, and they needed to secure the crash site. If offworlders discovered their base of operations, then soon the entire brunt of the galaxy would be knocking on their door.

Two masked soldiers, one with a yellowish tint and one in red, led their troupe of blue warriors through the brush. “Only a few more miles,” the one in red muttered in the humid air. “How are you faring, Jargi?”

Jargi gave a tired shrug, his blaster rifle hung loosely over his shoulder. “About as well as one can in the jungle. The floor is crawling with pests and predators. Last thing we need is to hit a pack of maaralaas while trying to intercept this ship.” The yellow-coated man held some tree limbs aside for his superior to pass. “Do we have a transponder ID, Lieutenant?”

The Lieutenant double-checked his datapad. “Techs say it ain’t Alliance or Imperial. Definitely military, though. Most likely a private colonizer.” A grunt left him as he turned back to Jargi. “We better get the men moving a lot faster, Sergeant. Ordanis the Preserver wants a successful report on us neutralizing this ship’s crew before the day is out.”

“Yes, sir!” With a salute, Jargi addressed the bataillon behind him. “You heard the Lieutenant. Double-time! Let’s move!” Proud shouts left the warriors as they picked up the pace. For the next dozen minutes, the only sounds in the jungle were a dozen soldiers trampling through the underbrush, and the din of its natives. There was little need for stealth, in their opinion. The velocity that the vessel was falling from was enough to most likely kill the entire crew.

They just had to make sure they were all dead.

A hand shot up in the air. The band of troops halted instantly at the gesture; the Lieutenant had damn-good senses, and when he told you to stop, you stopped if you didn’t have a death wish. Several seconds passed anxiously in silence. He nodded. “We’re good. I thought I heard something out there.”

“It might of been a cannok, sir.”

Another nod left the red warrior. “Probably. They’re harmless by themselves, but in a pack they’re a nuisance. Keep your eyes peeled, men.” The soldiers proceeded with far more caution, constantly checking for any out-of-place sounds or movements. There was a bad feeling in the air; something wasn’t right.

 There should of been at least some degree of activity in the jungle; instead, the warriors saw and heard nothing. The lack of noise was unsettling the entire party of soldiers. That meant two things: either there was a large predator nearby, or there were the remnants of the vessel they had been hunting for.

Jargi perked up at his commander motioning towards him to get his attention. A few obscure hand-gestures were displayed to the Sergeant, and he understood the gravity of what was being said: ‘Being watched. Hostile. Scout ahead; prepare to flank.’ Jargi nodded, took some men, and advanced ahead of the rest towards the crash site. In actuality, he was going to settle down in the bushes some metres away, close enough to hear any combat, far enough away to appear as if he left.

The Lieutenant gave a briefer string of nonverbal signs towards the rest of his men: ‘Tread lightly. Weapons primed.’ Soundlessly, blasters were unslung and reloaded with fresh battery packs. Their ranks subconsciously bunched together, making them a target perhaps for explosives, but limiting the chance of being individually picked off.

Suddenly, in the deathly silence of the jungle, the Lieutenant heard a click.

His instincts moved him before he could even hope to alert his men.

An explosion rocked the forest as the Lieutenant dove forward and drew his blaster. He looked back at his force, eyes wide in horror; only half of them remained, if that. Behind him, the crashing of reinforcements led by Jargi were in swift pursuit. But it was going to be too late. Unmarked and somehow unscathed scouts peeked out from behind trees, rifles drawn as they began tearing through his men.

The Lieutenant made himself heard over the din of the battle as he downed two enemies with quick spasms of his trigger-finger. “Take cover! Regroup! Send the bastards back!” A grenade rolled near the Lieutenant’s feet, and he threw himself while he tried to warn the warriors. “Brace; grenade—!”

Slayer’s eyes shot open with a start, but his body betrayed no sign of his awakening. His sight was blurry, and he could feel a small, hot tear rolling down his face. He sighed internally. It was another dream, another remembrance of that horrid day. Slayer could only recollect one other day where he had failed his people like he did during that ambush.

A shudder racked his body.

Slowly, the assassin attempted to figure out where he was. For some reason or another, he felt disoriented. The fabric roof above Slayer was lit up by a faint trace of sunlight. Wherever he fell asleep, it was certainly not comfortable, and way too damn early. There was some crusted liquid around his eye and forehead, and Slayer noted that his left arm was sending pinpricks of rather intense pain—

Oh. Right. The Zebras.

An audible groan left Slayer as he gave up his budding ministrations to rise. All too vividly, the memories resurfaced; the entire excursion into Nazar, him fighting Lucien, breaking his arm, Shamon nearly dying because of it. Slayer’s eyes widened. ‘Shamon! He better not have died; I need him still, dammit...’

The voice of the prince lofted over Slayer as his striped muzzle popped out of the corner of Slayer’s vision. “You’re awake! Ah, the Divines smile on us once more...” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the stress lines that had formed from a result of the struggle on Shamon’s face. At least he seemed to be alive, and that was enough for Slayer. 

Slayer attempted a choked laugh. He was parched, and rather famished. “I don’t know if you know this, but now you look like shit.” Shamon gave a laugh back in response, recalling how he said the same thing to Slayer the day before, and his eyes twinkled in genuine relief. The expression gave Slayer pause. Had the prince been worrying about him? No, it must have been for his people. Slayer shook away the thought. “Where am I?”

“You’re still in the Elder’s council teepee.” For some reason, Shamon looked slightly embarrassed. He glanced away. “We had attempted to move you to a more comfortable location, but we were... um, unable to.”

It was most likely for the best, Slayer considered. If they had succeeded in moving him, even in good intentions, it would have caused greater damage to his arm. As such, Slayer decided not to assault Shamon for insinuating that he was fat. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to; my armour’s weight distributors shut down. Along with the rest of... my... Suit.” Slayer stared up at the ceiling blankly, realizing something. “Which means I can’t move in my current state.”

A bewildered look overcame Shamon as he gingerly sat himself on his haunches. The motion confused Slayer; that was a posture he only seen with cats and dogs. Could equines even bend that way? He dismissed the thinking as Shamon leaned in closer. “You can’t move? Why not?”

“Because I’ve also broken my arm,” Slayer retorted flatly.

Shamon’s face contorted once more into an expression of worry. “Your arm is broken? And you’ve been unconscious all night without it being healed?! Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no...” Slayer watched in pained, but vague amusement as Shamon began fretting over him. Shamon seemed pretty young by his looks and personality; was he even an adult by their standards? “Is there anything I can do to assist you?”

Slayer gave a lazy wave off to one wall of the tent as his eyes refocused onto the steeple of the linen ceiling. “Get my satchel, if it’s still outside. There’s a medical brace in there.” The bounty hunter glanced over, only to see the bag suddenly in Shamon’s mouth. How he obtained the bag, and somehow returned in a matter of seconds, was a migraine Slayer decided not to question.

Bracing himself with his good arm, the marauder sat himself up. He motioned for Shamon to dig through his bag; something he would have done himself, except his balance was beginning to fail him. Planting his feet seemed to do the trick. Eventually, Shamon procured one of the medical braces, and examined it in curiosity. “What will it do?”

“Fix my broken arm,” Slayer quipped in an obvious tone. Shamon sheepishly scratched behind his head as he reached the same conclusion. With equipment in hand, the assassin bit his lip as he extended his left arm. It was worse than he thought. The pain came in agonizing waves, and it was only his upbringing and the pain suppressants that prevented him from crying out. Loosening up the clasps, Slayer carefully set the brace into position, and clamped it down. A little button press here, some syncing with the Suit there...

A faint bzzt left the device before Slayer gave out a long, drawn-out sigh of contentment. “Ah, much better.” He glanced over at Shamon’s look of confusion. “The brace straightens out the bones while it administers extra dosages of temporary... uh, machines, to restore damage.” Slayer had wanted to say ‘nanobots’, but apparently the Zebricans did not have that word. It was to be expected. “It ought to be healed soon enough.”

Shamon merely seemed fascinated, eyes comically widened in amazement. “Wow. Small dispensable machines that can heal bones?” An almost wistful expression arose on his face. “It sounds like magic, but more... innovative.”

For some reason, Slayer found that greatly amusing. “The difference between my science and your magic though, is that one exists, and the other does not.” Had Slayer bothered to look at Shamon when he said that, he would have seen newfound confusion, before revelation and a sly grin. The prince voiced no words to correct Slayer as he pressed on. “Well, next step; move my ass out into the sun.”

The Zebra’s brow seemed to be frozen in a scrunched-up pose as his smirk fell. “What good will the sun do you?”

Slayer waved him off once more. “You’ll see.” While his left arm was still unusable—and would most likely remain that way for a few days—that didn’t stop him from starting to reattempt a stand. This time Shamon was there, and with a bit of support, Slayer found his footing and stood. “Ah, thanks. It’s hard to stand with only one arm in heavy armour, you know.”

“Didn’t you say you couldn’t move, though?”

A groggy nod. “It wasn’t an exaggeration; I genuinely couldn’t move with my arm unattended to and me grounded like that. Now that I’m standing, it’s manageable.” Starting to make his way towards the flap of the tent, Slayer examined his surroundings. There seemed to be no trace of what had transpired the previous night; no blood, no bones, not even the putrid odor of urine hung in the air still. A damn-effective clean-up crew.

If it wasn’t for his arm, Slayer could have been fooled that he hallucinated those events.

Slayer’s balance lurched abruptly, but he stumbled and recovered. Shamon didn’t say anything, but merely looked on in concern, ready to spring into action if the assassin collapsed. Slayer roughly chuckled. “Vertigo. I need some food, and some water.”

Shamon didn’t even ask what kind of food Slayer wanted. He merely gave a nod and sprinted out of the flaps, leaving a displacement of air in his wake. The light-headed sensation forced Slayer to kneel down while he attempted to revert his world to an acceptable stability. The prince reappeared almost as quickly as he left, tray in mouth. According to the heavy breathing, hauling tuchus was not the smartest thing Shamon should have done in his condition.

‘His condition,’ Slayer’s mind echoed. Giving a cursory glance, he looked towards Shamon’s flank. Fresh bandages had replaced the old, and (unfortunately for Slayer to admit) whoever redid them performed first aid better than Slayer ever could. Aside from some limping, though, Shamon didn’t seem to be hindered too much by the injury. Though, doing such an unnecessary sprint was an obviously foolish decision; one that Slayer thought to berate the stupidity of, before he gave up on admonishing him.

The assassin supposed it was nice that Shamon seemed to care, at least.

Slayer began to quickly care less about why Shamon was so snappy with his request by the smell of said request wafting through the air filtration system. Where had he smelt that before? Looking down, Slayer’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Shamon spoke with a broad, albeit slightly strained from running, smile. “One of the city’s cooks heard you were unconscious due to defending Nazar, and had left this meal here for you upon awakening. He wanted me to tell you: ‘this is on the house,’ whatever that may mean to you.”

A grin plastered itself on Slayer’s face. ‘Wampum. I take back me thinking you a sleaze.’ With great gusto, the bounty hunter went to town on the sun-heated cod, not even bothering to close his mouthpiece between bites to ensure there was no interference between food and Slayer’s stomach. Slayer hated to admit it, but he nearly let out a moan. ‘Goddamn, this is delicious. Note to self: buy Wampum a drink.’ He took another bite. ‘Scratch that, two drinks.’

Shamon sat a respectable but friendly distance away, watching in his own amusement. Slayer seemed to take each meal in as if it was his first, and going to be his last. He paused. That was rather dark for his humor, though mostly because of how probable it could be. Slayer did seem to give little regard for his own health when he was combating the Diamond Dogs. “Do you even chew?”

The assassin arched an eyebrow at the snark. “I’ll chew when I’m full.” A loud, stress-relieving laugh left the Zebra; with his royal title, few individuals were ever willing to trade banter with him without having misguided fear that the prince would banish them. Slayer, in all of his alien quirkiness, was a refreshing change of pace. Slayer spoke up. “So. I’m guessing that things sorted themselves out after I killed Lucien?”

The question quickly sobered Shamon. “To a degree. After you lost consciousness, I freed the Elders. By this point, a great deal of the fighting in Nazar had ceased; the Dogs had started a retreat of their own out of the city, if you can believe it.” Slayer hardly did, but he kept his mouth shut. “Once we dragged out Lucien’s body, all of their fighting spirit fled. Many surrendered, but some...” An unsettled expression crossed Shamon’s face. “Well, some slavers refused to become the enslaved, even if we had no intention to.”

Slayer caught what happened as he took a drag from the provided waterskin. If it was bothering Shamon that much, though, he was not going to talk about it. In the bounty hunter’s opinion, suicide was a true last resort; unless in dire circumstances, a coward’s way out. At that point, Slayer was trying to figure out whether to loathe the Diamond Dogs or pity them.

Maybe both.

Shamon continued. “Of those who surrendered, we only took one actual prisoner: a servant to Lucien. The Dog could actually speak some Zebrican—quite badly, mind you—and we agreed upon some... negotiations.” Slayer nodded; it was probably the translator he had bartered with before the battle began. The warrior idly wondered how those negotiations went. He hoped it was something along the lines of: ‘if you don’t give us your shit and piss off, our metal monkey-man will kick your shit in, take it and make you piss off.’ If that wording was used, preferably by either Shamon or Elder Imamu, it would make his week. 

He righted his thoughts when Shamon continued speaking. “After a large amount of deliberation and council from the Elders assisting me, I arranged a combination of previous attempted agreements with the remaining Diamond Dog influence here in our lands.”

Slayer blinked. The two races had tried peace once? Undoubtedly the key word there was ‘tried’, and the Diamond Dogs weren’t too keen on the concept. “What deal was that?” he asked in mild interest as he continued to fork down his food.

The Zebra looked up, crossing his forehooves in recollection. “Let me try to recall. Hmm... I believe we had been able to recover certain things of value taken from us, as well as having the Dogs honour-bound to forsake our sands.” A neutral face appeared as he locked eyes with Slayer. “I was also informed of some items that were brought up by you.”

Suddenly, Slayer’s blood ran cold. That wasn’t good. Given the events instantly following that slight in Slayer’s resolve and rationality when tempted with such a moral conundrum, Shamon was probably presuming the worst of Slayer if the Zebra knew everything that he had said. If Shamon did know about the ‘deal’, and that final stipulation...

Shamon cracked a knowing smirk. Slayer didn’t even know he was revealing his newfound anxiety by indenting the tin pan in his grasp. “You know... if you wanted me to accompany you so bad on your journey, that thought you needed to arrange for my slavehood; all you had to do was ask, yes?”

The assassin could only stare slack-jawed. That was certainly not the reaction Slayer expected from the member of a race who actually had to seriously deal with slavery. Shamon let out a peal of laughter while falling over, and clutched his ribs during his giggling fit. “Oh, blessed Divines. I wish I could see your face; I can feel the stunned shock from here! Pfft.” He broke down into another bout of roaring laughter. It took many, many moments before he finished, and many more to fully calm down to catch his breath. “Ah, but seriously.”

Shamon’s face abruptly hardened and he clocked Slayer’s shoulder. It didn’t hurt either party, but the meaning behind the blow was well-received. Shamon’s mouth made harsh creases on his muzzle as he contorted his hoof to point the tip towards the impact point. “That was for pulling the Elder’s legs by stringing the Dogs on, and getting Elder Imamu worked up with your joke to the point where he apparently fainted shortly after you.”

Slayer wisely kept his mouth shut about the fact that for a moment there, he hadn’t been joking about offing the Elders. He was about to make a witty rebuttal of some degree, before the Zebra lunged forward and... hugged him? The assassin’s mind attempted a full-fledged reboot as he felt the hooves wrap around his undamaged shoulder. He was so flabbergasted by the movement, he couldn’t even consider whether to awkwardly reciprocate or shove the prince away.

The prince spoke again, in a less harsh tone. “And this, is for saving me and my kin. Thank you...” Just like that, Shamon was disentangled from Slayer and was motioning for him to stand back up again, as if the contact never happened. “Come; we have a trip we need to make, no?”

Slayer shook it away. He was going to process what just happened for a later time. For now, he could finally get back on-track to recovering Drake. “Right. Let’s, uh... depart.” A groan threatened to rise from his brief stutter. Such contact was foreign to the man. Still, he let out a small breath of amused air. ‘Well, it seems this was the best call, at the end of the day. Next time I need to keep my greed in check; it’s a damn dangerous thing.’

A thought suddenly crossed Slayer as he turned back to Shamon. “Where is Lucien’s body?”

The Zebra’s brow furrowed. “We had been planning on giving him a grave, possibly by cremation. He was our enemy, true; but even enemies deserve respect after death.” Slayer nodded, and asked if he could light the pyre. Shamon looked surprised, but nodded in kind. “Of course. But... I must ask; why do you want to do it?”

A shrug left him. “Because he was a worthy foe, and I bested him in the end. Me falling into unconsciousness prevented me from showing him what little respect he had ascertained.” Slayer analyzed the uncomprehending look he was given. “I do not hold my conflict against Lucien; I was taught a long time ago to not have ill feelings towards my opponents on the field of battle. If the fight was glorious, then those you combated—whether win, lose, or draw—deserved respect. But I also hold the fact he was a slaver against him. Lucien may have fought vigorously and showed heart, like a warrior, but it means far less since he had lived an unhonourable life beforehand.”

Slayer tapped his thigh. “Still. Credit where it’s due. Being a warrior as well, it is only appropriate that I am the one to send him off.”

Shamon looked the alien up and down appraisingly, and there was an unknown feeling behind his gaze. Something between befuddlement, admiration, and respect. “You surprise me, Slayer. Pleasantly, but still surprising all the same.” Shamon gave a grin, and walked out the tent. ‘Maybe my misgivings were misplaced; you do have honour, Slayer the Interloper.’

As Slayer followed him out after collecting his possessions and weapons, he rose his arm to block the desert’s blinding sun once more. The visor’s tinting wasn’t helping as much as it should have. He made a note to take a look at that, if he ever got a chance. Once the brighter exterior of Nazar was properly acclimated to his sight, though, down his arm went. His jaw dropped once again.

It looked like a celebration had overcome the bedraggled city of Nazar seemingly overnight. Colorful silken banners hung proudly from store fronts and windows, food was being distributed freely amongst the passer-bys, work-crews of Zebras repaired damaged structures with precise efficiency, and overall merriment was heavy in the air. Slayer was rather impressed at the speedy set-up of the festivities.

A Zebra waltzed by before he froze and pointed a hoof at Slayer. “The Interloper awakens!” As if a switch had been flicked, uproarious cries of thanks and happiness rang from the crowd out-front as they quickly began filling into the courtyard at the news. The assassin could only stand there immobilized at the reception. How had he not heard this many citizens only a few dozen metres away?

Shamon whispered to Slayer as he kept his head forward, hardly moving his lips as he waved to his denizens. “Word spread fast of your involvement, and your paramount role in protecting Nazar. Needless to say, they are not slow in showing their appreciation.” He turned his head towards Slayer, who hadn’t budged an inch. “This celebration is for you, in a sense. A show of thanks.”

Slayer didn’t really know what to say. This was entirely new for him. He never had been at a party dedicated to him doing something. In frankness, Slayer didn’t know whether he should say something, or just soak in the admiration of the queer quadrupeds. He went for the latter, and maintained a steely silence.

The Zebras were undeterred by his lack of any sort of speech, and clamored to get closer to the Interloper. But Shamon rose a hoof, and the crowd’s impending rush was cut short. With a loud, clear voice, Shamon addressed the group. “My kin! Please, give us a path. The Interloper cannot stay, and must depart immediately with me to Equestria. He appreciates what you’ve done for him! But please, a path!”

Disappointment was obvious in many of their faces—they most likely had been hoping for an extended time to thank Slayer fully—but they adhered to their prince and stepped aside. Several guards belonging to Shamon encircled the duo, and set them off down the road. Slayer was feeling a bit awkward at the massive influx of direct attention, but he kept a cool head and gave a nod occasionally towards the following crowd.

Shamon spoke idly as they took their old route. “The Elders would like to have another audience with you before we depart, if you wish.”

A chuckle left the assassin, half due to Shamon’s wording, and the other half at watching a Zebra being hip-checked only to be replaced by an overzealous mare shouting happily in Slayer’s direction. “I suppose that is an order?”

“As I said, only if you wish. We could just as easily set off if you have no interest in their words.” A hinting tone appeared in Shamon’s next sentence. “However, I recommend you may want to hear them out. They seemed to have something to say, and you may very well leave in better spirits.”

Slayer shrugged. “Alright. If you insist.” Their horde of hecklers did not disperse when they reached the bustling marketplace from before. In fact, they coagulated and made it very difficult to navigate, even with the guards cutting a swath through the citizens with gestures and shouts. It was rather deafening, Slayer quipped to himself. ‘I figured the extent of me ever being famous would be through fear. But here my infamy is in a different light, and reciprocated differently. Hmm. Almost makes me want to get an honest living.’

Abruptly, they veered off their previously-beaten path. The detour caused a brow to rise on Slayer’s forehead, but he said nothing. Most of their detachment had been left behind at Shamon’s orders to hold the mass of rowdy civilians at bay, and soon the bustle of the festival died away. Eventually, they reached their destination.

For a time, the two of them stood there, staring quietly at Lucien’s body as it laid on a bed of tinder. His arms were criss-crossed over his chest, and his armour had been noticeably polished to a fine shine. There were no other attendees aside from two guards and a witch-doctor concealed by a wooden mask; though whether that was a testament to how much the Zebras resented the Alpha, or the fact that Shamon explicitly made it a private ceremony, was unknown.

“Are you ready?”

The simple question caused Slayer to nod. “Let’s start.”

With a wave from his leader, the shaman approached the altar and began sprinkling a fine, grey powder on Lucien’s bloodied corpse from his saddlebags. A long, drawn-out prayer left his lips. “Weary spirit, you faced much strife in life. You were our enemy, and sought to enslave our people. But there was a time when you weren’t such, and thus it is why we bless you.” A small bundle of some herb was tossed into the wood. “May the afterlife bring you the peace you could not find, and may the Divines take pity upon you.”

Shamon spared a glance at Slayer, and nodded. The bounty hunter responded in kind, and made his way towards Lucien’s body. Standing over what used to be the bane of the Zebra’s existence was not as satisfactory as Slayer had been hoping. Flashes of the Alpha’s snarling face, madness rampant in his eyes, appeared. The recently-uttered words of the apothecary floated through his mind’s eye. ‘I wonder what drove the Diamond Dogs to such measures...’

Thankfully, the Dog’s eyes had been closed in advance out of simple respect for the dead, and two small copper coins sat on each eye. Slayer recalled that to be an ancient tradition, but where it originated from, he couldn’t say. As for an eulogy, there wasn’t much he felt compelled to voice. Short, and simple. “May peace keep you.”

The ceremony was hardly more than two minutes long. Just simple words from Slayer and the witch-doctor, and that was that. Shamon apparently didn’t have anything to say. As the prince made to ready a torch to give to Slayer, the assassin rose a hand to stop him. Pulling out his Sabre, he clicked the setting to Kill, and ignited the pile of lumber himself.

“Unconventional,” Shamon murmured in melancholic amusement. “But since it was you sending him off, it’s almost more appropriate, in a sense.” A few moments passed in silence as they watched Lucien become engulfed in flames, the scent of burning fur hanging in the air. It was a sudden beep from Slayer that ended the quiet. “What was that?”

Slayer raised a finger, and soon a faint whirring echoed out of the Suit for a second. It stopped as soon as it started, and Slayer stood up straight. Shamon hadn’t even noticed that he had been hunching his back before then. “I soaked up enough solar power to get the weight distributors back online.”

A blank look was Shamon’s response, before he rapidly shook his head. “I’ll just pretend I fully understood what you said.” It was then that another guard approached the prince and whispered in his ear. Shamon stood, eyes shut, as he listened. Eventually, he gave a nod, a small word of thanks, and dismissed the soldier before turning back to Slayer. “Come. I just received word that our supplies are fitted and ready. We just need to converse with the Elders once more to bless us on our journey, and we can depart.”

“Bless?”

Another nod as the convoy began moving again, this time using back-alleys so to avoid the large slew of onlookers hoping for celebrating with Slayer for his achievements. “Yes. The Elders are our spiritual leaders, alongside the council for the dynasty. That fire-pit you saw in their tent? They tend to use it to give fortunes and predict omens for those who ask.” His face soured. “It is a shame we cannot get a reading before our leave.”

Slayer highly doubted that such precognition existed amongst the Zebras, but he wisely kept his mouth shut yet again and didn’t voice his disbelief. Calling out their religious beliefs would be a fool’s error. Instead, a nagging query that had been on the edge of his mind made itself known. “Did you ever recover that dagger I used to kill Lucien with?”

Shamon scrunched his brow and spared a brief look. “What dagger?”

The assassin suddenly had a bad feeling. “You know, the one I threw before I lost consciousness? Had red pulsing sigils on it?”

Shamon stopped in his tracks, and turned slowly to look at Slayer in concern. “That... wasn’t a dagger? You threw a heavy, jagged chunk of a bone and it... collapsed the back of Lucien’s skull.” The prince had a perturbed look on his face. “Whatever blade you believe existed, it didn’t.”

Slayer blinked to himself as they began progressing once more. Had he imagined the weapon? No. No, there was no way he did. He remembered it vividly. But then why did Shamon claim that it wasn’t a dagger, but rather a crude bone construct? Was Shamon lying, and he had hijacked the blade for his own? Doubtful, but one never knew.

Slayer shrugged. “Perhaps I imagined it. I certainly wasn’t in the best state of mind.”

Shamon nodded, slowly, brows still furrowed. “Right. You’re probably... right.”

No more words passed between them in the sudden brooding silence. The feeling in the air gave both respective parties emotions of anxiety, but neither showed it. They simply pressed on, eventually popping out into a side-street that connected closely to the main gate. From their position, they could see a near-ravenous mob of citizens celebrating their fresh ease of mind with the dispatching of Lucien and his pack.

“It seems odd that they can celebrate like this, when not too long ago probably hundreds of their people died gruesomely,” Slayer commented.

Shamon gave a sad nod. “Our kin tries not to focus on death too deeply. While it pains us that such losses were had, the fact that it is over for good now is enough for many of them. They are in the presence of the Divines now.” Another frown appeared on his muzzle. “You weren’t awake when the giant funeral was carried out an hour or two ago. It was... depressing. Nazar definitely needs some cheer after that.”

A quiet snort left the warrior as he crossed his arms. “At this rate, you’ll have a riot on your hands.”

That snapped Shamon out of his thinking funk, because he looked down at one of appendages with a furrowed brow and focused stare. Confusion emerged soon after. “Uh... I do not have any hands, Slayer.”

Said warrior shrugged. “Same difference.”

A thoughtful sound left the prince, and with that they made their way into the street. The population of Nazar swiftly descended on them, but the refreshed garrison of guards kept their eagerness at bay. Slayer found the whole situation highly amusing, and slightly concerning. There was very little doubt in his mind that this was the oppression of living under the fear of the Diamond Dogs bleeding out into joy. The lifestyle of worrying that at any moment, an instance could arise where they were stolen away from their home, was one Slayer had seen far too many times.

Standing amongst the sea of onlookers were the Elders, safe and secure in a small clearing in the crowd. The duo quickly made their way over, and Shamon gave a full-fledged bow upon entering a few paces from them. Slayer considered to maybe at least give a nod of respect, but chose instead to remain motionless. The Elders waved Shamon to stand, and Imamu stepped forward.

“My kin of Nazar!” Imamu declared, his weathered voice ringing out in the street. The hum of talking evaporated, and left the company in silence. “Today, we are gathered here to celebrate the efforts of one particular individual; who without his help, we would not be standing as we are free of the Diamond Dogs’ oppression!”

Slayer quirked an eyebrow at the frantic energy pulsating in the crowd. ‘He’s really hamming it up. I wasn’t expecting this kind of theatrics for little ‘ole me—’

“Please give applause to your Prince, your soon-to-be King; Shamon!”

As the cacophony of hoofs rained down, Slayer’s features drooped. ‘You gotta be shitting me...’

Shamon gave a look towards Imamu, and discreetly motioned with his head towards Slayer with a small frown. Imamu’s face fell, and the Elder began speaking in a voice close to monotone. “And of course, please show your appreciation to the Interloper—”

The thundering of hooves drowned out what the aging Zebra had to say. It almost seemed louder than Shamon’s applause, Slayer mused quietly to himself. Shamon didn’t seem to mind, however; in fact, he was one of the louder ones showing his approval. It was strange to the assassin how killing a few dozen individuals earned one a going-away party by aliens that preached pacifism.

It was all admittedly, very, very, bizarre.

“Interloper,” Imamu stated. Another Elder had taken his place, and had begun addressing the crowd once more. “A word with you in private, if I may?” Slayer merely gave a nod, and walked some distance away from the throng of civilians. Despite the size, none of the locals seemed to even notice the bounty hunter walking away with the head of the Elder Council.

Once they reached an acceptable distance, Imamu turned to face Slayer. For a few seconds, he just stared, before speaking. “You make it difficult to discern what your motives are. You realize this, yes?”

“My motives are simple. I just want to find my pilot, repair my vessel, and depart.”

Something between a scowl and a frown worked its way onto Imamu’s muzzle. “I see...” He glanced behind Slayer for a moment, apparently checking to make sure Shamon had not followed. Said prince was now ensnared by the jovial expressions of civilians singing their praises to him. It was almost amusing to see his awkward expression, Slayer thought. “I hope you realize that your actions last night, while appreciated, does not absolve you of your threats you made before that.”

A dark glint rose in the old stallion’s eyes. “And while Shamon might think that the betrayal you nearly enacted with Lucien was merely an illusion to lower the Alpha’s guard, I have a sneaking suspicion there was at least some glimmer of truth in your brief ‘acceptance’ of his proposal. He may trust you, but I hardly do. So let me warn you with this.” Imamu took a step forward, and raised himself to his full height. “If you allow any harm to come to Shamon, you will regret it. I promise you that.”

Slayer rolled his eyes, and glanced down at the stern face of Imamu. He wasn’t going to make it obvious that what Imamu was believing was actually right. “I think saving you and your ‘kin’ from another round of enslavement, permanently if the Dogs have any intelligence, covers me just fine.”

The Zebra rose a hoof, mouth opening to make a retort. But he stopped. Slowly, gently, he set down his rebuttal, and the sternness in his eyes faded. It seemed, to Slayer at least, that his wording got to Imamu. Several seconds passed before a heavy sigh left him. “I suppose you are right. Shamon had explained to me your reasonings for what you did, and despite your multiple actions to the contrary, you have done more for us than any other outsider has. I may not trust what you do... but I understand it, to a degree.”

Slayer raised an eyebrow, his mask thankfully shielding his emotions. ‘So, Shamon is siding with me wholeheartedly despite having no need to vouch for me? To the point where the Elder gave up on his irritation with me?’ The guilt twisted itself in his heart, before it fled.

Imamu continued, his eyes roaming across the enraptured crowd as they listened to the speech being given by Shamon. While Slayer gave a light, snide-driven snort at the rather easygoing and basic vocabulary, it seemed to ring home in the citizens. “I... I apologize. You have protected our city, Shamon, and our kin; the latter two on more than one occasion.” The elderly stallion to Slayer’s side sighed once more, and raked his mane in exhaustion.  “I should not be so rude, when I should be thankful.”

The assassin waved it off, shaking his head. It didn’t feel right, being said sorry to by someone whose life he had threatened and was so close to betraying the previous day. It left a foul taste in his mouth, that resonated with his people’s traditions. “Do not apologize, nor give me thanks. I saved your people for my own gain.”

A small nod left the Elder as Slayer’s gruff phrase hung in the air. It appeared Imamu seemed faintly amused by that statement. “As you say.” Suddenly, light tremors begin resonating beneath their feet. Slayer groaned softly, stiffly drawing his blade and falling into a bedraggled one-handed stance, before Imamu raised a hoof. “Wait, Interloper. Watch the seeds you’ve sown.”

Wary of both the ground’s quaking and Imamu’s apparent ease, Slayer settled his katana back into its slot on his back. He still refused to release the hilt though, contenting himself to watching the reactions of the Zebra population. A majority of them seemed anxious, but there was no panic-induced rioting and fleeing. Shamon patiently stood, staring off towards the main gates.

Soon, a hole burst out near where Shamon’s gaze was pointed. Slowly, carefully, a Diamond Dog emerged. This one had no weapons nor armour, and it took a second for Slayer to recognize the dog as Lucien’s now-defunct translator. His head swiveled towards Shamon, and tilted his head before he began barking out orders in the Dog’s queer language down his tunnel. A few more tunnels were tentatively dug out around the translator, and soon silence seized Nazar.

It was shattered by coughing, and the rising form of a dusty Zebra female from one of the pits.

This set off a chain of events; most notably a sea of muffled gasping. Soon afterwards, other equines began appearing out of the Diamond Dog tunnels, being quietly led away by guards once they acclimated to the sunlight towards the crowd. The entire audience stood apparently paralyzed, utterly unbelieving the scene before them. About two minutes later, the Zebras stopped appearing. Instead, another rumbling started, though this one was a short distance away from the present holes.

Diamond Dogs began to steadily stream out of this disturbance, carrying with them crates and chests of varying sizes and quality. As time went on, they unloaded more and more of their cargo around the gaping pit, until several small mounds were scattered about. ‘That was most likely the den’s entire wealth,’ Slayer surmised at the dozen-plus piles. As soon as their work was done, the Dogs retreated into their burrow, filling it back up as they departed.

Soon, only the translator remained with his tunnel. He stood silently, hands gently massaging one another in its recognizable nervous-tick fashion, watching the now-freed slaves being redistributed amongst their people. The Dog nodded to himself, and looked dead-on at Slayer. With a deep bow of respect, the canine left without a word.

“Let us thank the Interloper,” Shamon began, starting the frozen masses. He had a small smile on his face as he stared towards Slayer. “Without him, our wealth would have been lost and our brothers and sisters would have remained in chains!” A deafening roar of cheering, accompanied by the rumbling of hooves smashing the sandstone underfoot, overloaded all other sound.

Imamu let out another amused noise at Slayer’s lack of response. “I hope that you find the members of your crew, Interloper.” He briefly hesitated, before he called a guard over. Rifling through the saddlebags on the soldier’s person, the Elder turned to address Slayer. “This was an item we had recovered from Lucien.” Tentatively, he held it out. “The Council felt it appropriate that we gifted it to you.”

The assassin raised a brow; was it the dagger from before? A quick inspection showed that no, it was not. It seemed to be an amulet of sorts, though the centerpiece confused Slayer. It looked like an ornate bronze tube roughly the size of a collapsed baton, but didn’t seem hollow when Slayer held it. He doubted it would be of much use, whether commercially or personally. Regardless, he nodded his thanks, and the two returned to Shamon.

Upon arrival, it seemed that the crowd was breaking off into merriment once again. With the liberated slaves amongst them, many misty-eyes and cries of joy reverberated throughout the Zebras. It faintly reminded Slayer of the other times that Drake had roped him into freeing slaves and those under the tyranny of the three factions. The recollection left a muted sense of satisfaction as Shamon met them with a wave. “Slayer! Are you ready to depart?”

Slayer glanced over the festivities, and nodded. “I suppose I am.”

“Then we’ll depart immediately.” Giving a bow to Imamu, Shamon started trotting off. He paused, though, and turned back. “Oh, that’s right; your gold, Slayer.” It took a few moments for that comment to register for Slayer; he had entirely forgotten about the payment he wanted during his ‘negotiating’ with Lucien. Shamon adopted a thoughtful look with furrowed brows as he glanced down. “Hmm. We might need to triple the convoy to bring the additional gold—”

“No.” Slayer’s dismissal attracted the attention of both Imamu and Shamon. “I have decided that I only wish one cart’s worth.”

A surprised look came over Shamon’s face. “Are you sure? It would be no trouble at all to gather more guards to transport it for you.”

The bounty-hunter waved it away. What he was saying was really stupid, but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself. Slayer attributed it to the heat getting to his head. “That won’t be necessary. Consider the two carts I’m not taking as a donation to Nazar.” He gave a shrug, and looked down at the appraising look from Imamu. “Besides, it will be a pain to try and carry three carts by myself once I land in the Equestrian’s capital.”

The Elder just shook his head in bewilderment, never taking his eyes off of Slayer’s visor. “Such a confusing individual... Very well, Interloper; we will gladly accept your donation.” A small smile arose on Imamu’s muzzle as he bowed, an action that seemed to flummox Shamon by Slayer’s quick analysis. “...Should you require any assistance with your quest of repairing your vessel, you may seek us out once more. We will try our best to aid you, as you have aided us.”

Slayer gave a nod, even though he didn’t put much weight into it. At least, it seemed to Slayer, that his former ban from reentry of Nazar was lifted. Turning away towards Shamon, he motioned with his hand forward. It took a moment for Shamon to snap out of his minor stupor, before he gave a nod in kind. As they approached the carriage-esque cart, Shamon tapped on the front. “Climb up.”

“I’m not being put into the back?”

Shamon merely smirked. “We have to put your gold somewhere, do we not?” Slayer just grunted at that fact, and hoisted himself up on top of the wagon. While he situated himself, the prince excused himself and returned to Imamu. From his perch, Slayer watched a brief, hushed discussion—or was it possibly an argument?—before the Elder gave a set of saddlebags to Shamon and gave him a weathered hug. Slayer pretended he wasn’t watching them when Shamon returned and clambered up alongside him. “Get comfortable, rafiki; we’re about to head out, and it will take some time before we can stop and rest.”

Diligently, a quintet of rather-burly Zebra servants harnessed themselves to the front of the wooden vehicle, while another trio finished loading Slayer’s newfound bounty into the depths of the cart. As the assistants gave the all-clears, the marauder couldn’t help but glance down. “Are you sure I should be riding this still?”

Shamon waved it off, though Slayer could have sworn he heard small grunts of irritation from the haulers below them. “You underestimate our strength, Slayer. Just because we do not tower, does not mean we are weak. Do not worry about it.” Slayer simply shrugged; he wasn’t going to try and argue the point if he could avoid having to walk any more desert.

With the Prince giving one final wave of farewell towards the assembled crowd, that sent the convoy off with hoots and hollers of praise and good fortune, Shamon and Slayer were on their way towards their objective. The capital of the Equestrian kingdom.

Canterlot.		





Starbrought





Yuri was worried. It had been nearly thirty minutes since he and the Marshal had their heart-to-heart, and there was no sign at all of her. Still, he knew he was in enemy territory, and busied himself with a possible escape route. After having ample time to weigh his choices and deciding on caving in the ceiling to climb out should he need to, he let out a groan.

“Where the hell is that Natalya chick at? I swear if I have to wait here any longer, I’ll—”

“You’ll what, exactly?” Yuri spun around to see five griffins making their way up the same staircase that he had snuck up, but way more prepared for combat. Four of the biggest griffins he had ever seen were escorting what he guessed was Natalya in an arrow formation. The one at the tip of the arrow was dressed in a full set of white armor, and was nearly as tall as Yuri himself. A massive axe rested on his back, with one of the straps loose to give him quick access to the weapon.

He was flanked by two smaller, but equally armored griffins. One of them had two swords on either side of him, and the other had a massive spear that just looked plain deadly. In the middle stood a regal looking griffin, which had a particularly eye catching red coat. A smirk decorated her beak as the party moved up the stairs and took up a defensive position.

“I’ll yell very loudly.” He gawked at the massive griffins that were staring him down with a look of pure hate. “I’m not going to lie, I was starting to think that you were not going to show up.”

“The thought is mutual. I honestly expected some sort of trap to spring the moment I stepped on those stairs. Looks like both of us have held the peace.”

Carefully, Yuri leaned over to look past her escort. “I don’t suppose that you managed to bring a chair?”

“No. I prefer to have my conversations standing up.”

“How about food?” Natalya motioned to the griffin on her right. He pulled a knapsack off his back and slid it across the floor. It collided with Yuri’s foot and toppled over with a lazy flop. Yuri bent down and picked up the bag, keeping his eyes directly on the tower of flesh in front of him. He reached in and rummaged around. He pulled out what he guessed was a vegetable and studied it for a moment, before taking a gigantic bite out of it. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he slowly chewed the vegetable, before swallowing it.

“What is this? It tastes… weird, but not in a bad way.” He continued to take bites out of it, trying to determine the flavor. 

“Brisbane. Be thankful; it is a delicacy amongst our species.”

The tech swished the food around in his mouth as he thought, before he gulped. “Huh, Brisbane... sounds familiar, somehow. Why’s it called that?”

“It’s named after the ancient griffin capital, and the island where the fruit originated.”

“Oh?” Yuri blinked and looked down. He was eating a fruit? “What happened to it?”

“It was overrun by giant spiders about a thousand years ago.” The admittance of this fact, it seemed, was akin to discussing the weather. Yuri wondered if he really wanted to be stranded in the same territory that had such a terrifying prospect, and further more to be eating something that was named after said place. “But, that’s not really why were here.”

“Wait.” The seriousness in his voice caused Natalya’s eyes to widen in concern. A moment passed. “Are they still there?”

Instantly, Natalya’s face fell into an incredibly-annoyed expression. She seemed to be clenching her beak as she spoke. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“...How attached to that piece of earth are you?”

“Quite a lot.” The other Titans shifted their weapons, obviously signalling that their patience was also wearing thin. “Now, can we stop with the small talk?”

Yuri gave a shrug, and finished off his fruit-vegetable before he dug out a not-so-exotic pear and began consuming it. “Eh, fine by me. So Natalya, what do you wish to know?”

“First off, I want to you to clarify what you mean by condemning an entire city to ruin if I didn’t come down and talk to you.” 

“Simple really. As you may or may not know, I’m an alien.” This statement caused her to raise a brow. “To spare you the mass amount of time it would take me to explain everything about how I got here, I’ll summarize it for you: when myself and my crewmates warped into this system by accident, we were caught in some sort of meteor shower. Our ship was knocked off course, and we ended up crashing onto your planet.”

Natalya ruminated on that. The only meteor shower that had happened as of late was the Night of the Falling Skies. If that Equestrian custom was the reason why the being before her was there, it would line up with that unidentified object that crash-landed. Her musing stopped when one of the alien’s words hit full-force. “Crewmates? There’s more of your kind here?”

“Only two more, don’t worry. One of them was missing when I came to, so me and other one went looking for him. We ended up getting separated and I wandered around before getting kidnapped by a group of your kind. I was brought to wherever this is, and you know the story from there.”

“And how does this have to deal with our city becoming a ruin?”

“Another simple answer. Our ship is powered by a fusion reactor, which generates the mass amount of power we need to travel in space. The reactor was damaged in the crash, and it was having trouble staying stable the last time I was there. However, I was taken here before I could go back and do the repairs needed to keep it stable.”

“What does that mean for us?”

Yuri gave a grin that disturbed Natalya to her very core. “If the reactor becomes unstable and I’m unable to stop it, it’s going to make a very, very big boom that will make the area impossible to inhabit.”

“How big are we talking about?”

“It would utterly annihilate all that was in the blast zone, and leave behind an equally-massive wasteland of radiation. And anything down wind of this would be covered in radioactive debris.” The smirk on Natalya’s face disappeared in an instant, replaced with a look of pure terror.

“...How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t. You’re just going to trust me on this. I may be an alien to you, but I have no intention of having a problem that can be easily fixed result in the deaths of countless life-forms. Especially when one of those lives will be mine. I’m not a monster, and I don’t believe that you’re one either. Let me go back to my ship, fix the problem and wait for the rest of my crew to return. That’s all I ask.” 

Natalya stared at Yuri’s face, trying to determine if he was lying or not. It was more difficult to tell with his alien features if he was lying or not, but she saw nothing that looked like deception. However, she was not going to just let him go alone.

“...I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree. However, let’s get some terms set. I’m not letting you just go by yourself to this place. I’m coming with you, and a whole lot of soldiers too. If you’re telling the truth, then all will go smooth. If you are lying… let’s just say it will be a fate worse than death, and neither of your two crewmates will be able to prevent it.”

Yuri gave another chilling smirk, as if he knew something she didn’t. “Sounds fair to me. Shake on it?” Yuri extended his ungloved hand toward her. She raised an eyebrow at him in confusion and a slight hint of disgust.

“What?”

“It’s a custom among my people to shake hands at the end of every business deal, meeting, departure, or arrangement. Surely you have something similar, do you not?”

Natalya still didn’t move. “You want me to shake your... hand?”

Her asking of that was the first time since her arrival that Yuri’s face was anything close to negative. It was such a contorted expression that she involuntarily shivered from it. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t look at me with such disgust.” Nervously, almost hesitantly, she slowly extended her talon. Yuri gently grabbed it and shook it, his face all smiles, mentally laughing at her perplexed expression.





Starbrought






> Chapter Ten -  Discovery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


*Beep*

“Little bit more to the left.”


*Beep*

“Not that far. Little bit more to the right.”


*Beep Beep Beep*


“And perfect. All you need to do is go straight until you start seeing a large metal ship sitting in the middle of the desert. Shouldn't be that hard." Yuri smiled as he stared down at the rapidly passing landscape. They had left the rugged mountains regions that the griffins had called home, and were now in the massive Zebrican desert that seemed to stretch for as far as the eye could see. Rolling sand dunes dotted the barren landscape, with the occasional mirage or oasis breaking the golden sand. In the horizon, something that looked like a sandstorm churned and moved. 'Add in a couple of buildings, and this would look exactly like the reserve on Kepler.'

The airship that they were traveling in gave access to breathtaking views. It was seventy-five meters long, and about 10 meters wide. The ship took the basic shape of a stretched out ellipse, with the bow moving folding to a sharp point for what Yuri assumed was for ramming. The deck was made of a beautiful ebony wood. The sides of the ship were lined with an unknown metal, with several cannon looking devices mounted on the hull. A balloon stretched the entire length of the ship, and it appeared to be the main source of the ships ability to keep flying, other than this strange ‘magic’ they kept going on and on about.

“I understand that, but why must you insist on making that beeping sound?” Natalya called from the deck of the ship. Yuri was standing on the platform in the back section of the ship where the wheel was located. He leaned over the railing to get a view of the annoyed looking Natalya.

“It’ll stop now. Like I said, just keep on this heading and you’ll find the ship.”

“Wouldn't it be easier just to tell us where it is?”

“Heh, that would be a hell of a lot easier. However, I’m unable to do that. The only signal I can get from the ship is the most basic location one. If I had the better one, I would be using the better one. Besides, just relax and enjoy the view.”

Natayla rolled her eyes, seemingly knowing something Yuri didn't. “Easier said than done. As long as we’re in this area, we have to watch out for the Desert Raiders.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Desert Raiders? What the hell are those?”

“Desert Raiders is the nickname for a group of pirates that live in these parts. They steal, attack and pillage anything that get’s in their way, or that they find. They’re led by a griffin Warlord named Gallus." The other griffins on the ship visibly shifted in anger at the name. Natalya herself seemed to have a murderous look in her eyes.

"Who the hell is that?"

"He was one of our best soldiers. Loyal, strong and one of the smartest griffins I’ve ever met. However…” Yuri could tell by the tone of her voice, and even how her head hung on her neck that whoever this Gallus was, he was close to Natalya.

“One day... he went rogue out of nowhere and stole a certain object from the very location that you just came from. He was chased out of the mountains to here, where he ambushed the Echo team sent after him. He somehow convinced the survivors to join him, and the Desert Raiders were created. He’s a monster.” She turned around and walked towards a group of soldiers manning the cannons.

'Whomever this Gallus is, he seems to be quite the fighter. These griffins look tough, and for one of them to take down an entire group of them by himself is no small feat… Perhaps it has something to do with the object that he stole?' Yuri leaned against the railing of the ship and debated falling asleep on it. He had not even took anything close to a nap since he had started this escapade of his, and taking one sounded like a great idea.

The only issue that prevented him from doing that was that the last time he tried to relax, he got kidnapped by the same group of people that he was with right now. 'Heh, kinda funny how cause and effect works.'

'Ah fuck it. I’ve slept in worse places before.' Yuri jumped off the railing and looked at the very back of the ship. No one was in sight, and there was a lovely little spot of sunlight for him to lay down and take a nice snooze. He slowly waltzed over to the back of the ship and laid down. No one seemed to pay any attention so he let himself drift off to sleep.





Starbrought





Yuri’s eyes snapped open, sweat pouring off his face. His heart was rapidly beating in a mixture of fear and shock as he scanned his body for any sign of wounds. 'It’s ok, it’s ok. That was just a dream, nothing to be worried about.  Breath in… breath out. Breath in, breath out.' He laid there for a moment, simply breathing in and out to try and lower his heart rate.

'Slayer was right. I was an idiot for leaving my pack at the ship. If only I had brought my meds.' The sound of someone arguing tore him away from his thoughts. He slowly sat up and looked in the direction of where he thought the noise was coming from. It appeared to be coming from the bow of the ship, and no one seemed to be in sight. The only one in sight was the grizzly looking griffin handling the wheel, who had not given a single fuck about anything.

He slowly got to his feet, before walking towards the railing that overlooked the main deck of the ship. Every single griffin that was on the ship seemed to be either standing or hovering above the bow of the ship. The main argument seemed to be coming from inside the mosh pit. Yuri smirked as he walked down the stairs and onto the main deck, slowly moving towards the crowd.

Yuri could only hear bits and pieces of the argument from where he was standing, but that still didn’t help him understand what they were saying. What the hell is a phased lock spell, and what does that have to do with quantum density? One of the voices was a definite male one, but the other one seemed to have the same feminine tone that Natalya spoke with.

Yuri saw a single head turn, then a pair of bird eyes rapidly expand in shock. The griffin quickly tapped on his neighbors back. He had a similar reaction, and before he could even get a word out, the entire crowd was staring back at him in a mixture of shock, fear and annoyance. The only exceptions that seemed to be showing a different emotion was the two unseen individuals arguing, and Natalya herself, who had a slight grin on her otherwise cold face. She gave a quiet order that Yuri could not hear, but the crowd turned back around and opened up a path for Yuri to walk though. 'Huh, so she ordered them not to bother me. I owe her a bottle of wine when I get back to the ship for making my life much easier.'

As the crowd slowly split, Yuri walked into one of the strangest sights he had ever seen. And he has seen a lot. He stopped in his tracks and just stared at the sight.

A very old looking griffin was in a very intense argument with a… unicorn? Sure enough, a brown coated Unicorn was standing less than ten feet away from him, it’s white mane and tail flicking in annoyance. It was much shorter than the griffin, only reaching about four feet at the maximum tip of the horn.

Yuri and the unicorn seemed to have some similarities in their facial structure, with the forward facing eyes and similar jaws. It also appeared to have some feminine features too, with a skinnier nose bridge and a more curved body.    

It wore the same brown coat that everyone else was wearing. However, instead of it being loosely attached to its back like the griffins wore the uniform, the unicorn wore it as a coat that covered its chest and back, with a bronze leaf placed on each shoulder.

'Fuck this shit. I can deal with the griffins simply because they look cool, but a fucking Unicorn? What the fuck kind of planet did we crash on?!'

The loud sound of the argument broke him out of his thoughts.

“And I’m telling you that there is no material or element of science that this belongs too!” The griffin held up a midnight black piece of non-reflective material in his aged talon. No light seemed to bounce off of it. It was like a foot long rectangle shaped void.

“You don’t know that! We’ve had access to the object for less than five minutes before you started ranting about how this material would not possibly be able to be recreated here. A phased lock spell along with a quantum density lock would be able to analyze the material!” The Unicorn pointed its hoof at the object. 'How interesting. It appears to have much more in the joints and ligaments department than the unicorns that I read about. Now that I mention it, it has a lot of similar features with moi.'

Yuri pretty much ignored their entire debate, instead he personally debated whether or not he was in some odd religion’s hell, or if the worse case scenario had happened and they had left their own universe, breaching into another. Or they had failed the jump, been captured, and currently plugged into some kind of integration VR to get some sort of information. All were plausible, and all were being debated.

In the time that Yuri had spaced out once more, the conflict seemed to have already resolved itself. Both the unicorn and the griffin were now side by side and talking with glee, seemingly unaware of anything besides themselves.  “Besides that, what part of the ship do you think this piece came from?”

“I’m not sure. I’m sure we’ll find out when we enter the ship!”

“That piece came from the outer hull. And no, and highly doubt that you are going to find anything on this planet that is remotely like this at all.” The entire crowd got silent as Yuri walked out and stood next to them, grabbing the panel from the griffins shaking hand. These idiots have no idea what they’re doing

“We-we thought you were asleep.” The griffin said, obviously still in shock from having an alien sneak up on them with such ease.

“I was. Sadly I woke back up. Now before you start bombarding me with questions, I need to tell everyone on this ship some rules. This is the only time I’m saying these, so listen up.” Thank god I remembered this, otherwise this could have gotten bloody. The griffins looked around nervously, unsure of what he was going to say.

“When we get to the ship, no one will enter until I tell them that they can. Do I make that very, very clear?” Yuri’s voice had lost that joking undertone that usually dominated his voice. His facial expression was one of complete seriousness. “Before I left the ship, I used the remaining power to turn on the internal defenses. If any of you enter it before I can go inside and turn them off, you will be killed or injured so badly that you will want to be dead. Do I make myself crystal, crystal clear?” All of the griffins, save for Natayla, nodded in agreement. He had privately told her about this before they left the capital, but she wanted him to tell the crew.

“Secondly, whomever myself and Natalya decides can enter the ship will not touch anything unless I tell you.This isn’t some kind of sci-fi story where one magic button will find a super secret way to complete the task.  If you touch anything, you risk killing myself, anyone on the ship, and possibly everyone within a two mile radius.” He looked directly at the pair when he said this, making sure his message was received and understood.

“Well well well, this is an interesting turn of events.” Natalya had a small grin on her face as she watched Yuri dish out orders.

“What do you mean Sir?” Major Iron Sword said as he turned to face her, spotting the grin on her face.

“Our friend Yuri seems to have much more history to him than what he told me. I had a feeling that he was former military, but this seals the deal. A military officer turned pirate. My my, what a small world.”

Yuri had finished his speech and walked out of the crowd towards Natalya, his cold expression replaced by his trademark grin.

“You told me you were a pirate. You never told me that you were in the military.” Yuri simply smiled at this, letting out a small laugh.

“Didn’t think that I needed to say it. You seemed fine with myself being a pirate, I didn’t feel like pushing it any farther.”

“If you were a pirate that was raiding and attacking our citizens and allies, you would not be standing here today. We’re not the equestrians here.” Yuri looked at her confused, wondering who exactly these ‘equestrians’ were.

“Equestrians? Who are they?”

“They’re a race of ponies that lie on the far side of this desert. They occupy a vast amount of land, stretching from coast to coast on the continent. We’re on the far south, with our zebra neighbors to the northwest and the minotaurs to the northeast. The equestrian territory prevents the zebras and minotaurs borders from meeting. They claim that’s for protection, but it’s just them putting their beaks into another species government.”  Natalya's voice was one of annoyance. Whomever these equestrians were, they seemed to be very annoying to her.

“Oh really? What exactly do they do?”

Natalya snicked with laughter. “What don’t they do? They constantly interfere in matters that don’t involve them. Just a week ago they announced that the two royal sisters would be coming to Altai for a diplomatic negotiations between Leo and the leader of the Minotaur clans." She turned around and stared at Yuri. "Funny thing is, they never asked us. They just announced that this was happening and now we have less than a week to prepare for the arrival of them and their legion of minions.”

“Can’t you just tell them no?”

Natalya stared at him for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. It was an odd sound coming from her usual serious beak, and from the reactions of everyone on the ship, Yuri was not alone in this thought.

“Tell the Royal sisters no? Let me fill you in on something. No one, and I mean no one tells them no.” Yuri cocked an eyebrow at this.

“I don’t understand. Will they attack anyone that tells them no?”

“I wish that they would attack someone that did it. The sisters are usually in good intentions, and can actually be talked too. However, the normal citizens are the issue. Most are ignorant, self centered, and gullible. They see someone say no to a request from their perfect princesses and they go insane. They start boycotting goods from whomever said no. The last country that refused a request nearly collapsed.”

"Then why is do you have a Unicorn serving for you?” Natalya's eyes narrowed instantly, a look of anger flooding her face. The two griffins next to her moved back several steps, as if her mere presence was trying to strike at them.

“Her family was once one of the great noble families of Equestria. They were blackmailed and tried for betraying the crown when they voted against giving the nobles more power.  Their sentence was death for the entire family. Celestia did nothing to stop them. They managed to flee the country somehow, and ended up at Altai, begging the king for safety. King Orion gave them a deal. They would be given military and political protection for their families eternal service to the crown. Needless to say, they took the deal. Starry is simply carrying out her family's, and her own wishes. Now if you'll excuse me, we’re approaching the sight of the crash.” She motioned to her two aids and they walked past Yuri to the crowd and began giving orders.

Slayer, if you can somehow hear me, I believe I just found out where Drake went. 





Starbrought





“You’re a damn fool, you know that?”

Drake looked around as Silver Flash strode up to him. The shadows cast across her face by the blazing bonfire Drake’s new crew had started in a forest clearing gave her an intimidating appearance.

Around them, those of Drake’s crew not burying the dead or patching up the ship celebrated their change in leadership with gusto. Drinks were poured, food was cooked and excited shouts were shared. All three of which was being performed simultaneously by Drake.

“A damn fool who took over an entire pirate fleet in one day!” Drake said with a laugh and a bite from a foreign fruit the pirate never bothered to learn. Adjusting himself on the plush chair he had had brought down from the Rogue, he took a shot of brandy to chase away the morsel down his gullet. “Well, their flagship anyway. My new quartermaster is fairly certain that Redhorn’s other ships will fall in line under my command. Something about ‘conquer by combat’.”

“Election by combat,” Silver corrected him. “It’s basic pirate code. Beat the captain, become the captain. As simple as that. And since all of Redhorn’s ships answer to him ultimately, they’ll probably follow your command as well, once they hear about what happened.”

“I already sent some of my faster fliers to deliver the good news.” Drake paused to take another drink, this time from a bottle of spiced rum resting on a tree stump beside him. “And to give my first set of orders: to meet myself and Rogue at the Ethereal’s crash site.”

Silver frowned, and glanced down in deep thought. Realizing that his fellow captain wasn't nearly as enthused with this sign of progression, Drake's grin faded. "Is there something wrong?"

The mare let out a sigh. "There is, Captain Shields, though it's not necessarily something you can do about it." She glanced behind herself, staring off into the gloom of the growing night. "Redhorn's ambush did a number on the Serenade. She's barely skyworthy in her state, and several of her arcane cannons are now in need of replacement."

Drake adopted a frown of his own. "I'm guessing right now that money is the issue?"

"It is," Silver admitted with a small nod. "I make good money, but not that good. Performing these repairs will set me back months, possibly a year or so in finances. I'll have to send her North, all the way to New Victrotia most likely, where she could be processed then to Canterlot for proper repairs. And that's if I even have enough in the accounts to cover it." A bitter chuckle left her as she dishearteningly kicked a pebble away. "Knew I should have sprung for that insurance policy..."

The dejected nature of his newfound acquaintance and equal caused Drake to drum his fingers silently in deliberation. For some queer reason or another, he felt almost responsible for this occurrence, even though he truly had no fault involved. Nevertheless, he was a man who took on responsibility. A moment or so passed before he stood. "Don't worry about it. I'll front the repairs."

Silver's double-take could have been mistaken for whiplash. "Come again?"

"I said I'll handle it.” Drake held out a hand. Without really thinking about it, Silver accepted it with her hoof, and set the statement into stone. “As much as I can, at any rate." Drake waved around him to indicate his new entourage. "As you can see, not only have I stumbled upon a new wealth, but it's the wealth of the same bastard who's been goading you for years and who even caused said damages." A small smile appeared on Drake's face. "I suppose that means I ought to inherit his debt and give you due recompense. It's the honourable thing to do, after all."

A laugh, somewhere between choked, forced, and genuine emerged from Silver's throat as she shook her head gently. "I don't know whether to laugh at the irony of that statement coming from an alien space-pirate, or be thankful. Maybe I should just do both.”

“Maybe,” Drake assented with a tip of his booze towards her. Before he could gain another sip, however, a magical aura wrested away the bottle from its’ owner’s hand. The pirate pouted. “You could have waited until I was done, you know.”

Silver shrugged her shoulders, a small sparkle in her eyes and cheeky grin hiding behind the mouth of the bottle as she had her fill. She floated it back over with a content smile. “Now where would be the fun in that, Mister Shields?”

“Where, indeed.” He muttered as he tipped the bottle over. As he figured, not so much as a drop left the container. Drake tossed it with a grunt and popped open another resting nearby. He took a sip before he started speaking again. “So, how much in expenses am I actually looking at here?”

“One-hundred thousand Equestrian bits.”

Drake did a spit-take. “That sounds incredibly expensive.”

“Arcane cannons aren’t cheap,” she stated. “As a matter of fact, they’re quite hefty in terms of price. Not to mention all the hull patching that needs to be done. And the engine and air-stabilizer repairs.”

“I see...” Drake snorted, before he gave a small shrug. “Well, I will figure it out, I suppose. Just don’t expect it all at once, or right away, for that matter. I still need to get to the Ethereal and establish that it hasn’t been consumed by thousands of liters of sand, or something.”

Silver waved her hoof. “I understand that much, Mister Shields. It’s no matter; either way I’ll come out not broke. What do I have to complain about?” She walked forward and lightly punched Drake’s thigh. “Besides, I’ll be accompanying you anyways to ensure you don’t back out on your promise.”

Drake furrowed his eyebrows as he stood. “Beg your pardon?”

Silver smirked. “Oh, come now; you might have shook on it, but I used to be a pirate as well. I know how they work. And while I’m not saying you will dodge your word, I figure sticking with you while you recover your vessel will only guarantee the payment. Elaweda can handle the Serenade and make sure it reaches New Victrotia, and then Canterlot.”

A few moments passed, before Drake squinted at the mare before him. “You’re coming along because you’ll still get paid probably, aren’t you?”

“Very observant!” she stated with a evergreen grin. Drake merely shook his head in bemusement, and took another swig of his drink. “If I don’t come, then some bureaucrat might fight tooth and hoof to ensure I don’t get paid, even if Cadance tried to speak up for my defense.” Silver wagged her eyebrows at the man. “Guess you’re stuck with me, huh?”

Drake sighed and reclined in his chair. “At least the company’s good.”

“Where is that son of a bitch?!”

Drake frowned as Shining Armor’s shouts brought his crew’s festivities to a halt.

“You know what, I have really got to stop opening my mouth,” Drake grumbled as he got to his feet. He grabbed a large, round black hat that has hanging off the armrest of his chair and placed it crookedly on his head, taking extra care to adjust the large feather protruding from the brim.

“Sergeant Armor!” He called out. His crew parted before him, leaving a path five ponies wide between Shining Armor and Drake. “I was wondering when you’d show your ugly mug.” Snorts of laughter rolled through the crowd.

“You tied me up in a lifeboat and sent me down here!” Shining growled. Drake found it very hard not to laugh at the mud and dirt covering Shining’s once pristine white coat. “I’ve been wandering the forest for almost a day!”

A loud laugh left Drake. “It’s not my fault you lack any form of directional skill. Besides, couldn’t you just teleport to the top of a tree, look for the ships and then teleport back to the ship? It doesn't seem that hard for a stallion of your rank.”

Ignoring what the pirate captain was saying, Shining Armor stormed down the path through Drake’s crew. “You can’t just take over Redhorn’s pirates! You’re still a prisoner of Equestria until we reach your ship.”

Drake glanced around him, his face twisted into an exaggerated expression of confusion. “Really? Because last I checked, I did in fact take over Redhorn’s ship and crew. Didn’t I, lads?”

Drake’s crew called out their confirmation. “And, just taking a shot in the dark here, since I was going to be freed as soon as we reached my ship, I don’t see how I could still be a prisoner.” Shining’s horn lit up as he advanced on Drake. “And, if you’re entertaining the thought of reinforcing that idea…”

With a swift movement, Drake drew his cutlass and activated it. Around him, the air filled with the sounds of blades being pulled from the belts of the pirates that wore them. Unicorn horns lit up with a rainbow of magic colors. The clearing had fallen deathly silent as Shining Armor looked around.

“Looks to me like you’re outnumbered, Sergeant,” Drake said, his tone low and threatening. “I’d recommend putting out your light show. Who knows what some of these fellows here might be willing to do to get into their new captain’s good graces?”

Shining stared around, eyes quickly scanning the crowd before he sighed in defeat. “Very well. I know when something’s a lost cause.” The light around his horn vanished as he turned to walk toward a tent on the clearing’s edge where Cadance stood, watching the proceedings.

“Alright you lot, back to your drinks!” Drake shouted as he deactivated his cutlass. “And get the Sergeant something as well! It’d do him some good to loosen up!”

The crew cheered and laughed at his orders, and celebrations were quick to resume. Drake let out a loud laugh as a scruffy Diamond Dog broke away from the crowd to shove a bottle of something into Shining’s unsuspecting muzzle.

“So, Captain Flash, you never told me exactly why you think I’m a ‘damn fool’.” Drake gestured for Silver to follow him back to his chair. Whatever Silver Flash replied to him with was lost to Shining’s ears as Drake’s crew started singing loudly around the bonfire. Irritably, he spat out the bottle of booze and grumbled as he trudged toward Cadance, who was looking at him with a concerned expression.

“That was incredibly risky,” she said. “You should’ve known you were outnumbered.”

“I did,” Shining replied. “I just didn’t expect them to be so loyal to him so quickly.” He muttered his thanks as Cadance’s horn lit up and began cleaning the bits of forest currently clinging to his coat.

“Just please be more careful,” she said quietly. “Captain Shields was right, we don’t know what any of his crew are going to do to earn his favor.”

Shining let out a sigh. “You know I don’t like this. Just letting all these pirates go free?” He winced as Cadance plucked a few thorns out of his snout. “It goes against all the training I got a as a Guard.”

“I know,” the princess replied softly. “I’m sorry about that. But the Captain could be a useful ally for us. Better than running the risk of making him an enemy.”

“Especially if he’s telling the truth about being able to level a city,” Shining said with a groan. “Alright. Alright! I’ll lay off him. But I don’t like it.”

Cadance smiled at the frown he had put on. “Aww. Don’t give me that face.” Shining’s pout became more pronounced.

“You know, I can always make it a little… easier… to bear,” she whispered, leaning in closer to Shining as she spoke. She smirked as a faint blush worked its way across Shining’s face. She leaned in closer as he turned to face her. For just a moment, the worlds seemed to grind to a complete stop. The two of them were the only moving objects in the universe.

“The Princess and her faithful knight in ‘Shining Armor’? Such scandal!”

Cadance and Shining both froze, eyes wide with horror. They turned in unison, and found Drake leaning against a nearby tree. The smuggest of grins on his face.

“Well don’t stop on my account,” the pirate said, gesturing for the two to continue. “I’ve had a running bet with Silver Flash that you two’d hook up before this little trip of ours was over, and I’m looking forward to winning.”

The two ponies practically leapt apart, each extremely red in the face. “What do you want?” Shining said quickly, doing his best to change the subject.

“Oh, nothing much,” Drake replied, still grinning like a madman. He pulled a letter out from the inside of his coat. “But I do have this little letter I snatched from the messenger searching the camp for you…”

The letter was surrounded with a magenta-hued aura of magical energy as Shining snatched the letter from the pirate and took a look at it. Sure enough, it had his name on it, and was bearing the (broken) seal of the Captain of the Guard on the back.

“You stole a private Royal Guard communication?” Cadance asked as Shining opened the letter. “That’s a serious crime.”

Drake cocked an eyebrow at her. “Seriously, what part of ‘pirate captain’ aren’t you ponies understanding?” He pointed at the hat on his head. “I even got a hat! A pirate captains’ hat!”

“That’s not what I-”

“Do I have to cut off my hand and replace it with a hook? I can do that you know!”

“What?! Why would you-”

“Maybe a parrot to sit on my shoulder will get the point across,” Drake huffed and turned around. “Lads! Where can I buy a parrot for my shoulder?”

“Buenos Avies, Cap’n!” one of the griffons near the fire shouted.

“There! Maybe we stop in Buenos Avies and I get a parrot and I teach it to say pirate-y things like ‘hoist the anchor’ or ‘walk the plank’ or ‘why is the rum always gone’!”

“You’re being ridiculous!” Cadance shouted.

“I’m being promoted to Lieutenant?!” Shining Armor shouted, bringing all nearby conversation to a halt.

“You’ve what?!” Cadance exclaimed, moving over to the unicorn’s side in an instant. “I didn’t know you’d be promoted so soon after becoming a Sergeant. That’s great news!”

“Apparently” Shining said, his eyes traveling back across the letter. “I have to report back to Canterlot ASAP as a result. Higher ups need to finalize the process and make it official.”

“This day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?” Drake said happily. He pulled the two ponies into a tight hug and lifted them high off the ground. “I’ve got myself a new crew full of aliens, and several new ships from Redhorn’s various crews, as well as all his worldly possessions. Stick-in-the-mud gets a promotion and now can go home and will finally be out of my hair, and the two of you have finally gone public with your tragically forbidden romance.” He dropped them to the ground, both wheezing and gasping for breath. “And to top it all off, a princess of the oh so esteemed Equestria and her special guard friend owe me favors! My birthday must’ve come early this year, and no one told me!”

“Excuse you?!” Shining wheezed as he scrambled to his hooves. “We don’t owe you any favors.”

“Sure you do!” Drake said, his ever so sly grin plastered on his face. “Why, unless I take pity upon you, the pair of you will be left here, in the middle of this forest. I’ve got the only ride out of here, and since you ‘have to report back to Canterlot ASAP’, you need that ride.” Drake gestured at the Silent Rogue, moored just above the ground in the forest clearing. “Like it or not, you’re in my debt now.”

There was a tense moment of silence between the three of them as Drake patiently awaited a reply. Shining Armor clenched his jaw over and over again as he stared up at the pirate. Cadance looked worriedly between the two.

“Well this is just great,” Shining finally said, with a sigh of defeat. “It would appear that we are at your mercy, Mister Shields.”

“‘Captain’,” Drake corrected. “And I’m glad you came to your senses, Lieutenant Armor. You two best rest up. We’ll be leaving tomorrow as soon as the necessary patches are made to the Rogue.” He patted them both on the cheek before he turned around and just about ran into the unicorn that he had made his new quartermaster.

The unicorn, (a mare with a pale, peach colored coat, a blonde mane and a cutie mark of a compass rose imposed over a pair of crossed cutlasses who went by the name of Morning Breeze), looked up at her captain with a sense of urgency. Standing directly behind her, but shifting on her hooves nervously was a pegasus mare with a pale blue coat and a mane of only a slightly darker blue.

“Sorry to interrupt, Cap’n,” Breeze said. “But one of our messengers you sent out this morning returned. Diamond!” The pegasus mare snapped to attention. “Tell the Captain what you told me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Diamond the pegasus said, stepping forward. “Captain Shields, sir. I successfully delivered your orders to the captain of the Draconequus’ Laugh. Madame Rain has agreed to rendezvous with you en route to the crash site.”

“Excellent!” Drake clapped his hands together. “A job well done, Diamond. Go take a load off and enjoy the celebrations. You’ve earned it.”

“That’s not all, sir,” Diamond added, a hint of nervousness in her tone. Drake cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Come again?”

“Madame Rain informed me that her scouts spotted a pair of Griffon airships, packed with soldiers following a course toward the crash site,” Diamond said in one quick breath. “As well as what appeared to be several ships from the Desert Raiders.”

“Raiders?!” Shining Armor sputtered. “They shouldn’t be this far North! Guard Intelligence says they’re operating in the Southeast of the desert.”

“So what?” Drake cocked an eyebrow at the stallion.

“The Raiders are one of the most dangerous pirate groups alive,” Cadance explained. “They operate out of the desert to dissuade any successful retaliation against them. If they’re going to get involved in this whole mess, we’re in for a lot more trouble than just battling a crazed pirate captain. Your one ship can’t fight off a whole flight of Raider ships.”

“You act as if I didn’t just take over a small fleet of pirate ships.” Drake’s expression fell as he considered the situation. “Is Madame Rain certain they were headed for the crash site? Is there anywhere else they could be headed?”

Breeze shook her head. “It’s just miles of desert in that direction, especially if they passed Madame Rain’s scouts on the border. There are safer skyroutes than trying to fly through the desert. They may not be Raiders, since they tend to move in very small groups. But I wouldn’t count on those odds, just to err on the side of caution. That ship of yours would be worth a fortune to the right buyers, and if the Raiders caught wind of it, they would not hesitate to send a fleet to extract it.”

“And the griffons wouldn’t have any reason to send two ships full of soldiers all the way out here unless it was for something like your ship,” Shining Armor added. “They’re too busy worrying about a potential war with the Minotaur tribes.”

“Well, either scenario doesn’t bode well, now does it?” Drake said with grimace. “A military sending a team to investigate my ship? Not too fond of what that could mean. I’m less fond of the idea of some group called ‘Desert Raiders’ doing their business near my ship. They sound like they’d be less careful about poking around the Ethereal than a military would.” Mouth set in a firm line, he turned to his quartermaster. “Breeze, rouse the crew. I want all hands—hooves—whatever they got, to report to the Rogue immediately. We’re expediting those repairs.”

“Aye, sir,” Breeze said before turning around and beginning to shout orders at Drake’s crew.

“Diamond,” Drake said, drawing attention from the messenger. “As soon as you are rested enough, I need you to return to Madame Rain and inform her of our adjusted schedule, and to make sure her crew is ready for battle.” Diamond saluted and headed off to find food and water before her departure.

“Lieutenant. Princess. I apologize, but it would appear that I can no longer delay my return to the Ethereal,” he said. “However, I’m certain that neither of you want to risk any untrusted parties getting their dirty, grubby little mitts on the weapons on my ship. So I’m sure you’ll understand my urgency.”

“Especially if what you’re saying about being able to level a city is true,” Shining said with a nod. “What kind of guard would I be if I allowed that threat to fall into some nutjobs’ hooves?”

“Exactly!” Drake said. “Come on, you two. I said all hands and that means you’re both helping.” Cadance and Shining nodded and made their way toward the Rogue.

“Mess with my ship, will they?” Drake muttered under his breath. “Not on my life. They’ve got one hell of a storm coming for ‘em.”





Starbrought





“Sir! We’re approaching the debris field. It should be right in front of us and slightly to the left.” A small billow of smoke raised from a beyond a massive sand dune. Natalya responded with a simple nod, before turning to Yuri.

“I was planning on sending some scouts to the ship to make sure the crash is secure. Any objections to that?”

“As long as they don’t go inside there shouldn't be any problems. Also, avoid that smoke at all costs. I don’t know where it’s coming from, so it could be very toxic.” Natalya gave him a suspicious look.

“You also told me there would be no fires.”

“I did. They should have been extinguished by now. I honestly have no idea why there is a fire down there. Tell your scouts to be careful.” I have a bad feeling about this…

“Major, dispatch you and your squad to investigate the crash. Keep an open channel with the P.R.I.C.K.” The griffins next to her saluted before hovering over the railing of the ship and forming a diamond like formation. Natalya signaled the squad to leave, and the squad departed. With a wide selection of massive booms, the griffins shot across the sky towards the smoke.

“Holy shit. You’re not kidding about their speed.” Natalya turned to face him once again, a smile on her usually cold face.

"They're members of the Immortal Claw. They need to best fast."

"Immortal Claw?" 

"They're the elite division of the Altai Navy in charge of protecting high priority airships and merchants. Every soldier you see here is a member of the Claw."  

"So Marines basically?"

"Marines? Is that the name for a group similar to them where you come from?"

"It's the basic term for them. However, due to the current state of the galaxy, there's a lot more than one group of them. And before you ask, I'll explain that, and more, when we're back to the ship. Not here, and not now."

A few moments later the P.R.I.C.K clicked back into life, the sound of the wind and sand filling Yuri’s ears. This is Major Iron Beak, we’re approaching the target. No sign of life. Wait a moment… What the hell is that?

“Major, what are you seeing?”

“I can confirm, the alien spacecraft is indeed here. There is a slight debris field around the ship, but it is intact for the most part. It’s… weird to say the least.”

Yuri, Natalya and pretty much everyone the ship grinned. The ship was there just like Yuri had said it was. However, Yuri’s grin was hiding a sinking feeling that he had been plaguing him ever since his last conversation with Natalya. No plan went this well.

“Wait. Sir, we have a problem.”

“What is it Major?”

“The Desert Raiders flagship is currently sitting in a pile of flaming ruin about 100 yards from the ship. At the current moment, we cannot see anyone or anything alive or moving in the area. However, there are some marks that lead me to believe that another ship came with it. ” Natalya's face lost it’s grin at once, being replaced with her usual stone cold emotionless face. She turned around and faced the crew of the ship.

“Captain, bring the ship directly into the debris field. We’re ending this now.”

“I would not suggest that Sir. We have no idea whether or not this is a trap. They could be hiding behind the hills or in an unknown location.” Natalya grimaced in annoyance. “Why can’t anything be simple?”

Yuri sighed, before reaching into his sleeve, tugging at an unknown object. The sight was odd, and Natalya looked at him in confusion. With a quick tug, Yuri pulled a small, incredibly thin object out and attached to the sleeve on his right arm. It reminded her of a small button that one would see on a dress shirt.

“What are you doing?”

Yuri began fiddling with the contraption, before a bright light suddenly lit up the area. There was a small, holographic interface floating a couple of inches from his arm, seeming to be coming from the button. Natalya, Starry and everyother griffin on the ship stared at him in confusion.

“How...How are you performing magic?” Starry stared at the glowing interface with confusion. This is an advanced spell that required a summoning book and a ritual by at least a tier two mage. How did he just… do it?

“Magic? This is just a simple hologram. Gimme a moment.” Yuri began to ‘type’ furiously on the hologram, his fingers leaving small ripples whenever they made contact with the glowing light.

Natalya was entranced, but also scared on a deeper level. Yuri had hinted at the power that his race could wield, but seeing just a small portion of it was worrying.“What are you doing?”

“I’m remote accessing the Ethereals systems, most importantly the lifeform scanners. Once I manage to get access to it, I’ll do a 50 kilometer scan to make sure that no one is trying to sneak up on us”

“Major, stay where you are. Yuri is going attempt to do a scan for anyone that’s hiding from us.”

“Understood Sir.”

“And finished. How many troops did you bring?”

“About a hundred and fifty, minus yourself.”

Yuri quickly entered the information into the hologram, before clicking a small red button on the bottom of the ‘screen’. “There we go. Give it a couple of seconds.”

“Where’s the usual wave that comes with that type of spell?” Starry had slowly walked over to Yuri, still keeping her distance.

“Like I said, this isn’t magic. Besides, I have a live feed at the moment if you want to take a look.” Natalya looked over, trying to understand what she was staring at. A small image of what looked like a ship was placed in the middle of the screen, with spherical waves being emitted from it. A small cluster of green dots was near the ship, with several more directly on it. Besides that, nothing else was on the screen.

“The green dots are troops and other people that you brought. Gold is Drake, black is Slayer, blue is myself and red is an unknown entity. Seeing as there is only a green dots and a singular blue one, we’re clear for the moment. I’ll keep it active so we can see if anything or anyone enters the scanning range.” Yuri stopped typing and minimized the screen, leaving a small map floating above his sleeve, turning to Natalya and staring directly at her. “Now, shall we start this great adventure of ours?”

Natalya turned to the captain of the ship, an older griffin that looked straight out of the ancient tale of Moby Dick. “Captain, take us in.”
> Chapter Eleven - The Clash
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Yuri felt the lurch first. The griffin airship—which through muddled conversation Yuri later discovered to be the Apostle—had abruptly decided to cut its engines, and begin to settle down to the still sands below. Before them, some meters away, laid the wreckage of the Ethereal. Yuri frowned at the chunks of debris scattered about the crash-site, their metallic appearances obvious blemishes on the universal uniformity of the flaxen desert landscape.



That was going to take more than a little elbow grease.  



Natalya moved up to join him on his position over the railing, and motioned towards his sleeve. “Update?”


Yuri glanced down to inspect the holoscreen. Nothing but a handful of green dots and his own blue. He gave a nod. “Everything seems fine. We should still pick up the pace; the sooner I inspect the ship, the better.” Yuri’s stare hardened as his attention shifted to the burning husk of the Desert Raiders’ former flagship. “Though I’m still worried about that.”



“Do you have any idea how it was destroyed?” Natalya asked.



Yuri shook his head. “Not entirely. The Ethereal has a pair of anti-fighter turrets that can open fire automatically, but I didn’t set them to idle nor gave them any attack parameters.” He exhaled in thought, ignoring the obvious lack of understanding of the tech’s semantics on Natalya’s part. “All the other defenses are inside the ship, however. Perhaps another ship appeared, and beat them?”



The two watched as the scouting-team flitted about the hull of the Ethereal, being sure not to stand on any spot for too long, lest the scorching metal burn their talons. Natalya pursed her beak, or, to Yuri at least, it seemed like she did. “Unlikely. The only ships that fly over the desert are cargo vessels, pirates, or slavers.” She almost didn’t catch the sudden dark look that brought a downcast to Yuri’s features. Almost didn’t. “If another ship did take down the strongest of the Desert Raiders’ armada, then the Zebrican Elders have something else to worry about.”



Yuri cracked an eyebrow. “You mentioned the zebras before, if I recall. What are they, exactly?”



An amused scorn entered her voice. “Cousins to the Equestrians, technically. Though you could easily mistake them as strangers rather than family.” She waved a talon in the general direction of the downed raider ship. “The Zebras have been heckled by the Diamond Dogs as of late, losing convoys and having their own kind enslaved. But when they try to contact Equestria to go and send guards, the ponies don’t lift a single hoof to help them.” Natalya’s gaze turned fierce. “Oh, but they’ll accept the zebra’s gold and jewels just fine.” Seeing as this was an issue outside of his knowledge , Yuri went back to staring at the desert. 



Finally, after several moments, the ship touched down, a bit harder than accepted. The size of the Apostle forced them to land a good distance away from the field of debris, but they were thankfully able to wedge the skyship between two dunes. With their vessel settled in, Natalya let out a shout. “Green and Blue wings; on me!” As the respective flights yelled in confirmation, she cocked her head at Yuri. “Lead on.”



With a nod, Yuri hoisted himself and dropped down from the edge of the deck. Unfortunately, he didn't factor in where precisely he was landing, and as a result collided against the slope of one of the dunes. Natalya and her company of soldiers could only look on from their aerial positions as Yuri swore under his breath as he rolled down the expanse, and eventually came to a stop with his face submerged in sand.



Yuri pulled his head out, and spat a sand-castle’s worth of sand out of his mouth. “Ugh. I thought I was over having sand in my mouth. Dammit, Slayer...” Dusting himself off and standing up, he glared intensely at the dune that aided him in his descent. “And you, Mr. Dune, can go fuck yourself.”



Natalya couldn't help herself; it started as a small chortle, barely suppressed behind a tightly-sealed beak. Eventually, she simply could not hold it in any longer, and let out a bellowing laugh. The entire situation, plus Yuri’s response, sent her into a fit of laughter that caused her wings to almost flap out of sync. The soldiers quickly followed suit.



The laughter died, however, when Yuri blew up said dune.



Yuri gave a smirk as the winding-down hum of his glove echoed in the air. An enormous billow of sand fluttered across the desert. Nearly half of the hill had been, quite utterly, annihilated and sent several meters into the air. The Apostle, now missing half of its support, proceeded to tilt several feet before resting. Sliding crates of cargo and rustled crewmembers on the ship groaned in irritation, and casted vehement looks over the railing at Yuri. He shrugged as his arm fell. “The desert is full of dunes; it won’t miss me destroying one of them.”



Natalya, meanwhile, could only hover slack-jawed at the scene. If Yuri had really been toting that much firepower under his sleeve while he was incarcerated, it was a mystery why he didn’t just break his way out all the way to the top. The tech noticed her bewildered expression, and grinned. “Are alien attacks covered by your insurance?”



The griffin could only shake her head in disbelief, before she touched down next to Yuri with her guard in tow. “Let’s just get aboard your ship.” Yuri seemed content with this directive as he lazily mosied along towards the Ethereal. Natalya grumbled under her breath. “This alien is getting stranger and stranger by the minute...”



“Being strange is my specialty.” Natalya turned a small shade of crimson, eyeing the smirk he once again seemed to constantly have on his face. “And just if you wanted to know, you and your men are fine being around and touching the hull. The radiation in the reactor room should have been dealt with by the automated systems days ago. Just watch out for any spots that may be hot.” Yuri continued walking towards the damaged Ethereal,with Natalya and her teams in foot. A thought flew through Yuri’s mind. “Speaking of which, who have you selected to come inside of the ship?”



"Only a small group. My four personal guards will be coming with me, with Germond and Starry joining in with them."



“Do you trust these six?”



“With my life.”



“Good, I’ll extend the same to them.”



Natalya looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “That’s a fairly serious statement to make. Putting your life in a species talons that imprisoned you a day ago is quite a change.”



Yuri simply shrugged, a dull tone in his voice. “You’re overthinking it. The members of your race that imprisoned me are not the same griffins as you. Besides, you have done nothing at all for me to distrust you. You’ve kept your word, and as a result I’ve kept mine. Besides, it's not like I'm worried about you guys trying to fight me.”



Natalya could only shake her head in befuddlement. She didn't know how someone who had been imprisoned by her griffins could forgive and trust them so easily, but perhaps that was merely how Yuri was. Natalya honestly couldn't tell.



Their approach attracted the attention of one of the griffins inspecting the hull. His landing and quick salute was returned before he spoke. "Grand Marshal. Our scouts have scoured the area, and we can confirm there are no signs of any potential ambushes or idle traps, and lastly no communication crystal-relays."



"Are you sure of this, Captain? Or do you need to double check it?" Natalya's voice retained its usual harshness that befitted her rank. Yuri found it kind of grating, and silently made a wave in asking of dismissal. Natalya granted it with a short nod, and Yuri made his way towards the sealed entrance of the Ethereal.



"Yes, Grand Marshal." The pair of griffins stood next to one another, looking out at the activity surrounding the two of them. Two hefty patrols of armoured griffins orbited like vultures around the crash, their formation and swiftness indicating their full combat-alertness. Inside of the valley, a small coagulation of tents had sprung up with eager scientists shuffling about for the command to have at it with the Ethereal. "From the tracks we've seen, the Desert Raiders were here, undoubtedly. The defensive perimeter has been set up, as ordered, and our Operator has relayed Black Rock for additional support. The Sovereign and the Solace will be in support positions within the hour."



A sigh of relief escaped her beak. One less thing to worry about now.  “Have they been briefed about the situation?”


“Yes, they have.”



Natalya breathed a sigh of relief at this too. “Good, the last thing I want is to have to explain all of this again. Also, have the Zebras been notified of this?  The other last thing that I need right now is to have a sudden patrol of Zebras appear.” She gestured around at the small fortress that had been constructed. “This doesn’t exactly look the easiest to explain.”



A troubled look crossed his face. “No, there’s been a… situation in the Zebrican Capital.”



Natalya's eyes narrowed, her voice turning tense. The Sergeants tone was not one of a good news. “What kind of situation are we dealing with?” She stopped for a moment and looked around her, making sure that no one else was in earshot of them. Yuri was currently hands deep inside a door panel, trying to unlock the security features.  “Political coup? Natural disaster? Large scale fire?”


“None of those Sir. The Capital has been attacked by one of the five diamond dog tribes. From what we’ve gathered, the Zebras have managed to defeat the dogs, but the damage to the capital is immense.”



Natalya groaned at this breaking news, her face meeting her talon. “Of all the times for this to be happening… I thought we dealt with those things years ago. First the minotaur aggression, then Yuri, and now this?.” Gahh, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?! “Sergeant, you’re dismissed. Thank you.” The griffin saulted and took flight back to the ship.



“I have some good news!” Yuri’s happy voice suddenly filled her ears. “I’ve figured out what’s wrong with the door… Is something the matter?”



“Nothing that could concern you. Now, what about the door? Have you managed to open it?”



“I’ve figured out what’s wrong with the door, but I’ve decided not to open it yet.” He quickly leaned in, the tone and level of his voice dropping. “Also, I didn’t feel like yelling this to everyone, but there is also some… worrying news. Something managed to open the door.”



“And? Shouldn't your internal defenses that you spoke so highly off be able to deal with whomever did?” Yuri noticed the annoyance in her voice, but decided to ignore it for the moment.



“That’s not the problem. The problem is that whatever managed to get in did not manage to get out. So worst case scenario, there is a very angry creature or group of creatures behind the door. Best case scenario? There’s a couple of very fine piles of ash sitting on the floor behind the door.”



“Then what are we waiting for? I’ll grab my team and meet you at the door. I’ll also alert the combat patrols to take positions along the hull in case of an incident. ” With a surprising amount of energy, she turned around and flew to one of the bigger tents.


After a few moments of chaos, the group was ready to enter. Yuri stood at the front of the pack, his tall frame blocking the doorway. His glove hummed with life, while a gifted griffin shortsword hung on his belt. The holographic screen clung to his left arm, providing a live update of anything getting near to them.



Behind him stood Natalya and her four bodyguards. One directly behind Yuri, one in the back, and two on either side. The two scientists, both almost humming in excitement , stood contained in the middle.



Nearly all of the other griffins that had been on the ship were currently in defensive positions either on the hull, on the dunes, or flying around in the clouds. It was quite a sight to behold.



“Alright, you lot ready?” The griffins behind him nodded in agreement. Yuri turned back and activated his glove, a small stunning charge ready to be fired. With a slight tap to his holographic screen, the door slowly began to open. Yuri ducked down slightly, since the door seemed to be taking it’s sweet time. I can’t see anything that looks like feet, but I can’t be too careful. 



“Everyone behind me,  I would advise covering your ears.” The griffins backing up his entrance glanced at each other in concern, but obeyed and placed their talons over the sides of their head. Yuri blinked in confusion; did they really have ears? He shook it off as the rumble of the door’s progress brought him back to the task at hand.



As soon as the door reached Yuri’s hips, he stuck his hand under the door and fired the pulse he had been charging. A high pitched noise echoed around the camp and within the bowels of the Ethereal, before it quickly dissipated into static.


When Yuri glanced back to examine his charges, he didn’t expect to see Natalya glaring at him, with the other griffins still shaking off the effects of the stun-charge. “What in the hell was that?”



“A precaution,” Yuri murmured as the door finally yielded and fully presented the innards of the Ethereal. The darkness of the interior was broken up only by the occasional emergency lights basking their small crimson luminescence in the gloom. He glanced at his holo-screen once more: still as the night. The tech shook his head. “I don’t like the looks of this. Stay sharp, and don’t walk past me.”


The other griffins nodded as the group entered into the first room of the vessel. Yuri waved at them to stay still as he shuffled over to a barely-visible panel and began typing on its hovering symbols. A second passed before a distant churn of power could be heard, and several of the lights sprung to life. The sight made the two accompanying scientists gasp in awe and anticipation.



“Astounding...” The older griffin, Germon, whispered to his cohort. “All of this alien technology. It’s... amazing.” He turned to Starry. “Are you positive there is no magical signatures in any of this?”



Starry dumbly nodded. “Not a single trace of it. Whatever is powering these devices is not magic. It’s...” She trailed off as she looked towards Yuri, who was still working away at his panel. “What is—”



“Electricity, for the most part,” Yuri interrupted as he finished his business. Looking at the central projector, he frowned at its lack of display and promptly kicked it. It shuddered, before the shaky image of a blue orb representing the planet hovered above its space. “Though there is some ionic energy and a hint of nuclear power mixed in with that.”



Admittedly, those words were wasted on the two scientists as they carefully, as if walking on fine china, looked around the area they found themselves in. Natalya and her escort stayed close to Yuri, watching the engineer idly fiddle with exposed wiring of some of the consoles. “What is this room’s purpose, if I may ask?”



He glanced up at Natalya’s question. “This? It’s pretty much the hub of the ship. It goes to our quarters, the cargo bay, engineering, and the cockpit. Drake refers to this place as the ‘Tactical Intelligence Chamber’, but that sounded stupid to me, so I just think of it as “the one room in the middle of the ship.””



Natalya blinked at this response while she looked around. “I see.” Eventually, Yuri seemed to finish whatever he had to do in the room, and motioned for the group to begin moving. Circling the large sphere hovering in mid-air, Natalya was about to proceed down a vaguely-lit hallway before Yuri appeared in a flash and stopped her with an outstretched hand. Her brows furrowed. “What is it?”


A small, dark chuckle left him as he pointed with his free hand towards the floor. There, surrounded by what appeared to be small piles of dust, was a thin line running through the entry of the corridor. Natalya obviously didn’t comprehend, before Yuri grabbed up a piece of useless debris sitting upon a terminal, and casually threw it into the hall.



It shocked everyone, save the human, when it was disintegrated the instant it passed over. Yuri turned around, a smirk on his face that did not fit the current situation. “That right there is why I told you not to come inside without me. You would have ended up like those poor bastards there.” He motioned towards the small piles of dust.



Several intense shivers rocked the bodies of the griffins as Natalya motioned with her head towards the ashes. “Are those what I think they are?”



Yuri’s smile grew a fraction wider. “The Ethereal has a few of these. Galactic market tends to sell them to businesses and organizations who use them to destroy unwanted materials, but allow others to freely pass through them, like security checkpoints for contraband. I modified a set of them so those ‘unwanted materials’ destroyed were anyone unauthorized onboard the ship. Undetectable by any scanners too. Like I say, quality over quantity ” The technician glanced down, his face falling into thought. “However, there appears to be a flux in the system powering the Hostile Emancipation Grid. Which leads me to believe at least one intruder got past this defense while it was recharging between bursts.”



Starry’s eyes removed themselves from their sightseeing trip to stare nervously down the partially-lit corridor. “So something could still be alive down there?”



Natalya and the others flinched at the sinister sound of Yuri’s glove beginning to hum to life. “If that’s the case,” Yuri murmured as he punched in something on his holoscreen and shut off the impending death-field, “I suppose I’ll have to make them regret surviving past this point.”



With that uneasy statement hanging in the air, the party proceeded down the expanse of the vessel cautiously. Yuri took point, carefully checking behind every conceivable crevice and alcove that an assailant could be hiding, while the griffins stood to the sidelines watching him. Starry sidled up next to Natalya and began whispering. “Grand Marshal. It might be more beneficial if we divided our group to fully scour the shi—”



“Absolutely not,” Natalya and Yuri replied in-sync. The mare shied away in embarrassment as the engineer whirled on her. “I specifically said no one goes anywhere without me accompanying them. Understood?” Starry understood crystal clear. “Besides, why in the world would we split up?”



“I...I thought that we would be able to scour the ship faster. It would be more efficient.” Yuri raised one of his eyebrows at this, a gesture that was weird to say the least.



 “Normally you would be right, but this is not the case here. Besides what I already told you, there is a probable enemy on the ship right now, and we don’t know where they are. They could be following us right now, and the only thing that splitting would do is divide our strength.”



“I understand, but it’s only one enemy. We should be able to defeat whomever it is if they attack us.” Yuri and Natalya exchanged a look with each other, before returning their attention back to Starry.



Yuri leaned in closer to her and spoke in a completely monotone tone, his face blank of any emotions. “I’m going to believe for your sake that you’ve never been in combat, so take what I’m going to say as a rule of life. Never, and I mean never, underestimate something you don’t know the full power of. Treat any enemy you meet like they can kill you in under a second, it will save your life.” Yuri turned back around and began to walk carefully down the corridor, making the same investigative movements that he was doing before. A few steps later he suddenly stopped and thrust out his arm behind him in the universal signal to stop moving.



In front of them stood a massive door, roughly the size of the entire corridor. No windows seemed to be part of it, and it seemed to be just a massive slab of metal. The same unknown alien writing that Natalya had seen throughout the ship decorated a small plaque on the right side of a door. “Why did we stop?”



“We've reached my personal quarter, AKA, my home.” Yuri reached toward the small notecard that was attached to the panel near the door and rapidly entered a long password. A small ding was heard and the doors swished open, a blast of cool air hitting them. The doors seemed to only open around three feet, and Yuri denied any view of the room that lay beyond.



Yuri turned around and looked at the group behind him. “I need all of you to stay out here while I make sure that everything in here is alright and intact.”



Natalya narrowed her eyes at him. “Why is that?”



An annoyed expression crossed his face. “I highly doubt you’ll let me enter your home, so I won’t let you enter mine. Besides, I’m simply grabbing my gear and coming back outside. Anyway, the automated defenses will kill you if you enter here and are unauthorized. Lot of stabby stabby death things here.”



Natalya sighed in annoyance. “Guess I don’t have a choice in this matter. Do what you wish, we’ll be out here making sure nothing tries to get in.” Yuri nodded and quickly walked into the room, the door swishing closed. The Grand Marshal shuffled about anxiously in her spot; this had been the first time in almost twenty-four hours that Yuri had not been in direct eye-contact. It was both relieving and worrying.



Natalya turned around and barked at the troops behind her. “Lieutenants, make sure that absolutely nothing comes at us from behind. If it does, make sure that it dies.” The troops nodded in agreement, before forming a defensive position behind them. She turned around and looked at Starry and Germon, who seemed to be slowly recovering from their shocked stupor of their surroundings.



“Are we honestly supposed to just stand here and wait for him to come back out?” the mare quipped as she leaned in to better investigate a piece of frayed wiring. “Not trying to secure the rest of the ship is a dangerous bid while we sit here unaware.”



“Yuri has asked us to stay put,” Natalya retorted. “Unless you want to wind up like those tufts of former-intruders over there on the floor, I highly suggest you stop complaining and sit tight.” Starry gave a small, apprehensive huff under her breath, but stayed where she was in irritated silence. Natalya let loose another sigh. “Germon, how do things look?”



The weathered bird laughed gently in wonder. “We are, at this very moment, standing in something that would radically redefine everything we’ve learned about the sciences. I can feel it.” Germond lowered his voice as he addressed his superior. “Grand Marshal, we must take at least something from here. Studying just the smallest thing could send us decades into the future.”



“Attempt to take anything off of this ship without my explicit permission, and you will depart from it not-so-alive,” Yuri’s voice spoke. The company flinched as the altered audio appeared to be coming from all around them. “I understand the urge to learn, but for the sake of whoever is stupid enough to try, keep your claws to yourselves. Drake and Slayer would skin me alive if I just started letting you lot take whatever you felt like.”



“Yuri? Where are you?”



“Getting my things. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop though, so I tapped into the Ethereal’s intercom system. I figured you’d all be bored without my voice to entertain you.” Natalya rolled her eyes as a moment of quiet passed. “So, Natalya and accompanying... company; how do you feel about all of this?”



“What do you mean by that?” the Grand Marshal asked as she focused her hearing and examined her surroundings. Even though Yuri’s voice initially sounded as if it came from all directions, it seemed to only be reverberating in the space provided. Which meant it had to have an origin point.



“Simple really. How do you feel about this whole thing?” The voice of the technician allowed Natalya to hone in on the small box near the door he had left from, where the volume seemed the greatest. “Running into an alien, finding out you're not alone in the cosmos, staring at technology that is leagues above your own?”



 “What about it?”



Yuri’s laugh came through the speakers. “You seem to be taking this rather well, is all. I doubt this is a daily thing you have to go through, so I was curious what your response to everything happening was.” A rustling sound echoed from the speaker as Yuri undoubtedly shifted things about in his search. “I’m thinking now, however, that maybe you lot are just good at hiding what you really think.”



“Forgive me,” Natalya said as she watched Starry and Germond converse in whispers to one another out of the corner of her eye. Those two were most likely plotting something. “But I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”



A frustrated sound left the device. “I am an alien that came from space in a tin-can and who beat the shit out of several of your people, and you are currently waiting for me to fix a reactor that could kill thousands if left untreated. Do you have any kind of reaction of surprise or shock about this?”



“I actually haven’t really been thinking about it.”



“Beg your pardon?”



The griffin rustled her wings as she spoke. “If I stop for one second to even begin pondering everything that has happened in the past few days, I fear my mind would shut down. At this moment I’m just bottling it up for another time.” Natalya glared at the box, as if she was staring at Yuri himself. “Simple as that.”



“I see,” Yuri said. “Then I suppose I’ll have to settle for that answer.” A small crash caused the occupants waiting in the chamber to jump as the engineer cursed. “Shit; didn’t mean to knock that over.”



“Is everything alright in there?”



“Yeah, peachy. It didn’t break, so we’re good.” Yuri began grumbling under his breath. “Durability is about the best thing about Imperial tech...”



Natalya cracked a brow at that; Yuri had never mentioned the Imperials before. Admittedly, the human had revealed very little about himself. Natalya jumped on the opportunity. “‘Imperial tech?’ Who are the Imperials?”



The doors abruptly opened themselves, unveiling Yuri’s form. A sizeable pack of equipment was slung over his shoulder, and his frame was now obscured by a rather-stylish coat. Natalya stopped her inspection, however, when she saw the dark look in his eyes. “The Imperials are Humanity’s own worst enemy. One of them, anyways.”



Yuri promptly walked out, forcing the griffons arranged there to step aside. His gait was stiff and agitated as the others fell in tow. “To put it bluntly, the Imperials are the entire cause for why my people are currently slaughtering one another. Their ‘crusade’ roused the Alliance and the Syndicate to gather their own forces, and all three of them in their fighting triggered the Galactic Civil War.”



Grand Marshal Natalya tilted her head. “I believe we need a bit of context here.”



An exasperated breath of air left Yuri as he entered another section of the Ethereal. However, unlike his previous disappearance, he did not seal the door nor did he bid them to stay outside. Natalya and the others took the chance and followed him into the new area. They were significantly confused when they realized their surroundings looked startlingly similar to a kitchen. Their attention was directed to Yuri as he moved across the room. “Very well, I’ll briefly fill you in.”



The technician stooped over a container and began sifting through it. “About seventy Galactic Standard years ago, the Imperial Planetary Coalition struck the galaxy with a fleet spanning thousands of ships and millions of men. The attack completely blindsided those unfortunate enough to be caught in the wake, and that would be quite a lot of people.” Yuri grabbed what looked like a small cartridge and examined it carefully, before tossing it back into the container. “When the attack was done, the Imperials had claimed a majority of the Core Worlds, a large portion of the galaxy trade-routes, and most of the dense population centers. Many systems calmly accepted the Imperials rule, but a significant percentage decided that they would resist.”



Starry cocked her head, a confused look on her youthful face."System? What is that?"


Yuri mentally face palmed, an snarky remark almost releasing from his lips. "Think of a system like a town." He paused, making sure that the message had been understood. This is gonna be one hell of an analogy. "Now, put that town into space, and turn the planet you live on into the area around it. "



“What happened to the systems that did that?”



Yuri turned back for a moment with a grim grin. “They suffered.” He turned back to his work. “The systems were too unorganized, and lacked the strategy and capacity to fight against the Imperials effectively. Like cannon fodder, they fell to the fleets and the orbital bombardments. All but one, anyway.”



“I’m guessing the one that did was one of the other factions you mentioned earlier?” Natalya asked as Yuri plucked a bottle of some foreign substance and took a swig. His frame shivered in apparent disgust, but he tucked it away into his backpack with a nod.


“Indeed.” The technician, apparently done with the current container, moved onto another. “That particular sector of space, a relatively isolated location that went by the name of the Auriga Cluster, refused to yield to the Imperial’s efforts to crush their rebellion. Apparently all that solitude allowed them to design some insane technology.



“When the first Imperial fleet came into orbit of their soon-to-be capital Starlight, the future Interstellar Alliance had a mass of drones waiting for them.” Natalya flinched at the word ‘drones’, but Yuri didn’t notice. It’s not as if he knew that drones were also the common name for Changelings, a race that had caused some ire to the Altai Dominion. “The fighters didn’t have a chance against those unmanned machines, and they were easily repelled. After that, the Alliance began spreading their influence to nearby space; all in the name of bringing peace to the Milky Way and ending the Imperial march.”



Yuri gave a harsh bark of a laugh. “If only the systems that willingly signed on knew. The Alliance was just as bad, if not worse, than the Imperials in terms of their aspirations for Humanity. Their numbers swelled, they took back a large amount of Imperial territory, and before you knew it: there was the Alliance and the Imperials fighting for control of the galaxy, with the tables turned on the Imperials for a time.



“My people have a saying. When you push someone into a corner, they’re not going to play by the rules to push themselves out. The Chiefs of the Imperial military realised that if they kept up their current strategy, they would lose the war in under a year. So they did what anyone feeling extinction does. They turned it up a notch.”



Yuri’s face darkened, a look of disgust and hate appearing. “They instituted a galactic military draft. Anyone who fit the terms of it were drafted into the army or navy. And thanks to a great propaganda campaign, most people were more than willing to join.” Yuri grabbed a small pill from a bottle and swallowed it, his face recoiling at the apparent taste. He set the bottle back inside his backpack. “The industry was put under military control, and pumped out every kind of military machine you could think off. Special colleges were set up to train the officers that would be commanding all of this. To sum it up, the Alliance advances were stopped in their tracks, leading to a standoff. However, this standoff was not to last.” Yuri stopped talking and walked towards what looked like a black box in the corner of the room. The only things different from the box and the wall was a different texture and color.



“What do you mean the standoff was not to last?” Yuri seemed to be ignoring her as he touched the corner of the box, and a holographic display popped out of seemingly nowhere. Yuri put his hand in the middle of the display, before speaking a series of words and numbers. A small ding was heard, and one of the craziest things Natalya had ever seen began to happen. The box began to change it’s shape.



Two small metal handles seemed to grow from the side of the box’s completely flat surface, making a door in the face of the box. Yuri grabbed them and pulled, opening up the box to reveal it’s contents. Yuri’s body shifted to block sight of what he was grabbing, and by the time he had moved away, the box had once again been shut. The handles slowly grew back into the metal, and the completely flat surface was back once again.



“Oh yeah, where did I leave off?” Yuri turned back around to Natalya, who narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. His coat seemed to be covering something on the right side of his body, with only the faint gleam of metal being shown.



“Forget that for the moment, what did you just grab?” Yuri stared back at her, a completely expressionless face facing meeting her own. The two sides seemed to have reached a standoff, with neither side making any moves.



“Sigh. Oh well, you caught me. It’s a weapon of mine, one of many I may add.” Natalya and the rest of the guards looked at each other in both confusion and a small amount of fear. The only weapon that they had seen him use so far was the glove on his hand, and that small device was easily capable of destroying an entire sand dune with a single blast. The thought of another weapon even in the same tier was frightening to say the least.



“Since we are technically allies, can we see it?” Yuri seemed to think about this heavily, before finally shrugging his shoulders in an apparent agreement. He calmly reached to his side and pulled out the apparent weapon.



The ‘weapon’ seemed to be just a simple looking, chrome red metal rod, around two or so feet in length. However, the more and more Natalya looked and inspected it, the more it seemed to become less than just a metal rod. For starters, the metal seemed to be made of the same light material she had seen on the hull of the ship. Two small metal constructs that appeared to be handguards capped each of the ends. Small grooves that faintly reminded her of talon guards had been inscribed along the entirety of the body. Yuri spun the weapon around in his hands a fair bit, before putting it back where he had somehow attached it.



“There you go. Any more questions? Can I get back to my story?”  No one seemed to respond, and Yuri took that apparent silence as a yes. Before he could explain, a small light began to blink on one of the screens next to him. Yuri turned his head and stared at it for a moment, before grabbing turning back around to face Natalya, a troubled look on his face. “Story time will have to wait for a while. We need to get moving. Quick.”



Natalya decided not to ask any more questions, as his sudden urgency. Yuri quickly left the room, and motioned for the rest of the griffins to follow him. As soon as they all had left the room, he quickly turned around and sealed the room shut.



 Natalya turned her attention towards the two griffins she had left outside to guard the room. “Did you spot anything?” The both nodded their heads no, and joined the convoy following Yuri. They reached the same corridor they had come from, but turned a left instead of a right.



“We’re heading towards engineering. Tell your companions to keep their eyes peeled for anything moving.”



“Should they watch the vents?”



Yuri snorted with laughter. “If whomever is creeping in the ship decided to go inside the vents, then we don’t have to worry about anything.”



“Why would that be?” Yuri turned around and face her as he continued walking down the long hallway.



“This is a pirate ship. Do you really think that we would leave something like the vents unprotected? The only vents they could access from the hallways are the plasma vents from the reactor. Anyone who enters those dies in under a minute, no matter what. It’s a shitty way to die.” He turned back around and began to walk towards the end of the corridor with haste.



A few minutes later, they reached a massive door similar to the one they had entered the ship in. However, this one had several alien symbols plasted on it, with a large black and yellow trefoil symbol taking up most of the space. A large handle was attached to the door, and a small holoscreen hovered blankly near it.



“We’ve reached the engineering room. If you could backup for a moment, that would be great.” The group did as they were asked and backed up several feet, with the four griffin guards turning around and guarding the lone hallway coming from the corridor with a simple hand gesture from the Marshal. Yuri rapidly entered a long passcode, before placing his hand once again on the holoscreen. A small ding was heard, and what sounded like a door being unlocked echoed around the hallway.



“The automatic door opener thingy is broken, so I have to open this monster by hand.” Yuri grabbed the massive handle and slowly began to pull it back. As the door began to slowly reveal it’s contents, Natalya stood in a small amount of shock at the pure thickness of the it.



The door was a least six inches thick, and Yuri was definitely not having an easy time opening it up, his face strained in concentration.



Germond turned and whispered to the slightly less shocked looking Starry. “Fascinating isn’t it. Even in a ship with technology beyond anything we’ve ever seen, the old ways still hold true.” Starry looked at the older griffin a bit confused, before passing the odd comment as just small talk. “That it is. I honestly cannot wait to see this ‘reactor’ of his.”



“That won’t be that much longer then, Starry. He’s gotten the door open now.” Germond pointed to the slightly red Yuri, who was taking a moment to catch his breath after opening the massive door.



“Can we enter it?” Yuri raised his hand for a moment, before breathing in deeply. “Yeah, go ahead. Just don’t touch anything, for the love of god don’t.” Yuri was staring directly at Starry and Germond when he said that. “These controls are directly wired into the reactor, and it is still in a tricky mood. One wrong click and the containment fields could fail.”



Natalya slowly backed away from the entrance, now a bit more worried that a simple click of a button could cause something to fail. “What would happen if those fields fail?”



“Remember that worse case scenario I explained?” Natayla nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, that’s what will happen if the containment fields fail. If that does occur, there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.” No one responded, but it was very clear that the message had come across. And with that, Yuri entered the room with a quick wave. The rest of the group seemed a bit hesitant, but soon their curiosity became too much and they carefully went through Starry and Germond’s mouths dropped in synchronization, and even Natalya couldn't help by be impressed at the sight that greeted them.



They had stepped into the biggest room they had seen so far on the ship, and it was completely filled to the brink with technology like nothing they had ever seen or could have imagined. The main room was a perfect circle twenty or so feet in diameter, with a set of holographic consoles lining the walls. Each one of them was in the same alien language she had seen earlier, and a good portion of them had charts and graphs on them too. Yuri seemed to have dropped away from the group, and was staring intently at one of the consoles, his back turned to them.



Directly to the side and behind of each of the consoles stood two massive cylinder like objects, with massive pipes and cords, as well as metal braces connecting them to each other, and the other technology in the room. Those must be the engines I saw. Those things are massive. Natalya's eyes ended their inspection of the engines, and began to focus on the direction those pipes went.  


Following the direction of the pipes lead her eyes to the main centerpiece of the room; the object that Starry and Germond seemed to be gawking at the most, and that she has somehow ignored. Sitting on top of a slightly raised platform was a five foot wide cylinder that started off at the base of the floor, and continued up through the ceiling to another unknown location of the ship. It was completely encased in a unknown spotless grey metal of some kind, but still glowed with an unnatural neon green from inside.  A large guardrail orbited around the base of what she guessed was the reactor, with several consoles, screens and holograms bolted directly into the flat tops of the rail.



A slight shimmer of an unknown origin completely encased the reactor. It reminded her of a magical shield that she has seen Starry cast countless times, but without any color or pattern to it. It was oddly hypnotic to look at, and she was having a great difficulty pulling her head away from it, and she seemed to have completely lost track of time.



 “Grand Marshall, isn’t it ...beautiful?” Natalya slowly turned her head away from the hypnotic reactor to the source of the voice. A captivated Starry was unable to break her eyesight with the massive amounts of tech in the room, her already massive eyes trying to gather all of the information they could, with Germond seemingly having the same hypnotic experience.                



“Beautiful?”  



“Yes, beautiful. I can’t seem to stop staring at it.” Her and Germond’s eyes had completely glossed over. She doesn’t look good, I need to break her line of sight.



“Are you guys trying to go blind over here? Jesus, stop staring at the reactor before you can’t anymore. ” Yuri’s monotone voice suddenly appeared out of her right ear. Natalya turned her head, a slightly shocked look on her beak as the alien seemed to appear out of the blue to her right. He noticed her staring at him, and waved his hand in front of her with a creepy grin on his face. She backed up a couple of steps, causing Yuri to smirk in satisfaction.



“Anyway, since those two seem to be completely and utterly high off their asses, I have something I need to tell you about.”



“Oh? What would that be?” Yuri leaned his head over a bit and spoke in a deep, yet quiet tone.



“I checked to make sure that the reactor or the radiation is not interfering with the scanners. They’re not.”



“Is that a bad thing?”



“It’s not a good thing. If those scanners were working right, I could find the creature who’s currently creepin on the ship and deal with it.” Yuri turned around and faced the two scientists.



“Any idea why these two are getting high staring at a sheet of metal?”



“You don’t see it?” A look of surprise crossed his face.



“See what? All I see is the covering for the reactor.” His voice suddenly dropped in tone. “What are you seeing?”



“It looks like a green glow is emanating from it. It’s hard to describe.” Yuri turned around and walked towards one of the console attached to the guardrail. He quickly typed something into one of them, and a slight hum filled their ears.



“Did it change?” Natalya turned her eyes back to the reactor. The green glow was gone completely. Starry and Germond seemed to be having some similar reactions, as they were now looking at the floor, with their respective hooves and talons on their heads.


“It’s gone now. What did you do?”



“Increased the power going to the containment fields. Whatever you guys saw was somehow making it through the fields, which is not good.” Yuri turned around and faced her once more. “But, that problem is solved now. Now, where is the coffee maker...”



“Speaking of problems, what about the whole ‘blowing up the desert’ deal that we came all the way out here for?”



“Oh yeah, that.” Yuri turned back around and typed in a long line of something into the console.  “It’s fixed.” Natalya raised an eyebrow in both suspicion and surprise.



“I’m sorry, what?”



“Could you not understand me?” Natalya's death glare seemed to have no effect on him. “It’s fixed, patched, repaired, unbroken.”



“How did you fix it so fast?” Natalya could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks in anger.



“If I told you exactly what I did, you would not understand it at all. All I needed to do was to make sure that the reactor was working right and not leaking massive amounts of radiation that would kill everyone.”



Before Natalya could respond to this, Starry decided that the cold metal floor of the room was a good place to take a nap, and promptly collapsed on to it. Germond seemed to have recovered from his ordeal, and was already making sure that Starry was still alive.



“Uh, did I miss something? Is she alright?”



Germond looked back up at the pair. “She’s fine, just knocked out. Thank you for turning off that light. It was… hypnotic, I could not look away. Do you know why this happened?” Natalya struck a glance at Yuri, whose face was one of confusion and concern.



Before Yuri could open his mouth to respond to the question, his lifeform sensor began to beep and blink at him. Yuri looked down and goofed at the response. “The fuck is this?” What the hell? This can’t be right.



“I don’t know. My lifeform scanner is acting up to say the least. I’m getting really fucked up readings that don’t make sense.”



“What’s it saying?”



“Apparently right now we’re in space, now back on land, now back in space. Oh! Apparently there are forty five Slayers right… there.” He pointed to a particular corner of the room. Thankfully, there were not forty five Slayers standing in the corner.



His joking tone did nothing to to make Natalya's  fear go away. She could tell that he was trying to distract them from the topic at hand. She decided to probe further .“Do you know what’s causing it?”



“No, and that’s the problem. I’ve already compensated for anything that could be interfering with it. Radiation, Cosmic Rays. Hell, even air pressure. This makes no sense.”



“Could it be that it’s just your thing malfunctioning? “



“Hmmm. That could make sense, but it’s a longshot. I’m using the scanners that are on the ship, and those could have been damaged in the crash, but there’s an issue with that. They were working perfectly before hand, and now they’ve apparently decided to act up… ” Natalya saw Starry slowly return to her hooves, but before she could check to make sure she was alright she was torn away by Yuri’s device suddenly emitting an extremely loud siren.



“Fuck! We need to get out of here, now!” Yuri pulled back his coat and grabbed what an L shaped object apparently hidden inside his coat. Before Natyal could react, Yuri had almost reached the door, his hand reaching towards the control panel.



“What’s going in?”



“Bad things, very bad things!. All of you, get behind me and stay there.” Sensing that whatever Yuri was freaking out about seemed to be a bad thing, the three followed his orders. 



As Yuri reached out of the door, the four soldier’s stationed just beyond turned around and starred in confusion at the horrified look on Yuri’s face. Yuri’s lips opened up, but before he could warn them, hell broke lose.



Four arrows flew into view, and impaled themselves into each of the soldier’s necks with deadly accuracy. Before anyone could react to the situation, each of the arrows decided to show just how deadly they were.



The lead guard’s head suddenly froze solid, before exploding and showering her comrades with deadly ice shards. The guard next to her found that she was now suddenly on fire, and dropped to the ground screaming in pain from the combination of fire and ice. The two behind them had no better luck at all.



A massive burst of light illuminated the hallway as electric bolts screamed out and though the body of the soldier closest to Yuri. The soldier shaked  in agony for a moment, before collapsing on the ground like a rag doll, a small billow of smoke escaping from his beak.



And in complete contrast to all of these other ones, the soldier in the back left simply exploded as the arrow detonated in a massive shockwave, leaving a gory mess on the floor. It would take more than a janitor to clean the bloody mess in front of him.



Starry screamed, Germond backed up in terror, and Natalya’s eyes winded as the sudden violent deaths of her four best offices rushed to her mind, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.