> FTL: Corsair
>  by Silver Soarer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


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He had become himself, the worst creature he could imagine. As we crafted the universe around us we saw the flaws that we had created. Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party and rejoice as order approaches. Fortitudo et ordinem.



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"Champagne sir?" The waiter asked as he passed the solid white stallion. 

The stallion finished brushing specks of fluff off of his finely pressed suit, before taking a glass from the silver tray. "Thank you," he said with a polite nod before the waiter went off to serve other guests.


His eyes flicked between each of the guests, two thick strands of his brown mane dangled loosely above his left brow, the rest of his mane was brushed and neatly styled to keep his august figure in check. His wings nestled comfortably by his sides through the black suit he had donned.


Amongst the crowd of formally dressed ponies, scattered about a floor of shining gold marble hidden beneath a chandelier of fire blazoned glass, the ballroom had been spruced up with noticeable decorations. Small trails of vines were draped around the Corinthian pillars that surrounded the circular room. 


The chandelier was freshly cleaned and the light was at the right intensity to show off the immaculate mosaic that lay upon the ceiling of a deep night's sky. All were dressed properly as they waltzed slowly to the slow bounce of an orchestra that sat by one of the far walls. 


It was a very open room, out on the opposite end, past the dancing stallions and mares was a verandah that overlooked a blackened lake, two moons reflecting off of its cool waters with a few glowing streaks as nearby ships flew by the skyscape.


"Having fun Duke?" His comm fluttered to life with the sound of a female's voice, reeking of biscuits and tea.


With a smirk Duke sipped at his champagne flute. "I'm working, there's no time for fun," he murmured quietly.


"Oh yeah?" The voice chimed back. Duke could practically hear her cheeky grin. "Well I can see you and I had no idea that Champagne was mission imperative," she teased.


"When the mission is at hoof, nothing is off limits," he justified confidently. "Those crosshairs better not be on my head Presidio," he warned as he began to weave through the crowd of dancing and talking ponies, each dressed to the highest caliber... It was a nobles party after all, with guards that had their sidearms locked in a holster on their forehoof. 


"How else would I be able to watch you?" She asked with a rhetorical snicker. "I'd never even risk it," she chirped back teasingly. "But in all seriousness keep focused... Their song is almost finished."


He gave a short nod as a few bystanders trotted by. "I better go get ready then." 


With a gentle cough he excused himself from the surrounding guests and began to weave his way through the crowds, placing his half finished glass on the tray of a passing waiter.


Making his way past the Corinthian pillars, he left the rotunda ballroom, turning to a darkened stairwell and trotting down.


"I have no eyes on you, you're on your own," Presidio chimed in quietly, "don't die."


"Understood." 


Duke came to the bottom of the curling stairwell and to the carpeted hallways beneath the ballroom, the clapping of the patrons upstairs echoed through with a hollow twang. "Which room is he in?" 


"Second door on the left if the plan is still correct." 


"Thank you," he said as he clung to the shadows, peering around the corner to the illuminated hallway. 


He needn't count the doors down, two guards stood in front of the door, their purple coloured uniforms pressed neatly, their forehoof holsters visible. 


"These bat ponies can throw a party can't they?" Presidio commented, watching the party upstairs. "And the guards here are... Very staunch," she cooed. 


"Hoof on the trigger, Sid, not anywhere else," he whispered silently in warning, his forehoof holster coming loose and letting a small sidearm slip from his suit sleeve, the holster stopping before hitting the ground, becoming a mounted weapon. 


"My hoof is always on my trigger," Sid cooed suggestively once more.


"Sometimes I hate you," he sighed quietly. 


"I'll remember that when my crosshairs are back on your head... You ready?" She asked with a serious tone.


"Yup... Here goes," he muttered before rolling past the corner and firing off two shots in quick succession. 


The first struck the closest guard in the neck, a small metallic square clung to his skin and he locked up immediately. The second shot landed right under the eye of the other guard, turning his head to see what was happening.


Duke let his aim remain as he stared at the two paralysed guards still standing upright. Slowly approaching he gave off a small wolf whistle to double check... Both guards remained still. 


"I'm so glad I bought these rounds," he said into his comms, patting the faces of the stern looking guards.  


"I look forward to using them," Sid chuckled through his mic.


"I'm not sure which is more terrifying, a shock that can disrupt the brain's capability of movement or  you dragging some poor paralysed bastard home," he sighed calmly whilst looking at the simple cream door with a bright gold star towards the top.


"Shush would you."


With a smirk he pushed open the door to the performance dressing room. Sitting in a velvet chair with a mahogany cello held within his magical grasp, was a stallion with a shocked expression as Duke came through, pointing the firearm at him. "Looks like I've plucked the last string," Duke quipped with a smart grin on his face before firing.


"Huh?" Was all the cellist could get out before his muscles locked up and the cello fell onto its needle and teetered before Duke caught it.


"That was so cringe worthy... I think I've made my mind up... I will shoot you when you come back up," Sid sighed.


"I dare you," Duke smirked as he peered at the neck of the cello. With a gentle push, the tuning key pushed into the wood and sprung back out slowly with a small green data chip within. "The chip is here."


"Raccoon wants the whole Cello, bring it up and I'll come get you."


"Got it," Duke said before pressing the chip back in and pushing the needle back into its hold, stowing it back into the blackened case. 


With a quick glance around he lifted the case and left the room once more, closing it with a light click. With a relieved sigh he patted the paralysed guards thankfully before trotting back towards the stairs.


"Coming up," Duke informed Presidio.


"Uhh... You might want to hold back a minute," Sid spoke in mild confusion.


"What? Why?" Duke asked, stopping at the top of the stairwell with concern, the eyes of several audience members now upon him. "What's happening?"


"Shit… Our programme is out of date… They've changed it... The cellist... You... You're next?" she said, the sound of pages flipping gently in the mic made him gulp.


The urgent hoofsteps of somepony approaching snapped him from his concerned interest with Sid and his eyes looked up to a stallion wearing a formal suit, a conductor's baton in his breast pocket. 


"Thank goodness," he began with a sigh.


"Uhh," Duke let out before quickly being silenced. 


"C'mon... We're behind schedule," the conductor spoke, ushering Duke forward. "They're all waiting."


"Oh? All of them?" Duke asked, brushing his ear nervously.


"Yes! We don't hire cellists so they can sit in second chair."


Duke gulped and feigned a smile before following the conductor towards the orchestra. "Yes yes... Of course," he said with a certain tension in his voice as the murmurs of patient nobles began to fill his ears, the marble floor greeting him with a blinding glaze as he gazed out to the crowd.


The conductor rushed ahead and smiled politely at the audience, pretending everything was on schedule, glancing back at Duke, soon sending a glare whilst he waited.


Duke bit his lip and put down the black case and opened it up, pulling out the varnished mahogany cello.


"Mares and gentlecolts, please join me in welcoming our soloist for this evening, first cello of the Royal Orchestra of Equus...  Please welcome, Ennio Morricone." 


"Well fuck," Presidio chuckled in his ear.


With a smile Duke trotted on stage, cello by his side. "Sid... Help," he murmured quietly out the corner of his mouth. 


"I dunno... It'll be interesting to see what happens," she laughed.


"Sid," he growled in a low tone, "I swear if you don't help me, I'll shove this cello right up your-"


"Yeah yeah, bite me..." She sighed. "Buy me some time, I'll figure something out."


Trotting out in front of the audience, his applause grew louder as he took a seat flanking the orchestra, placing the cello down with the needle outstretched. The sweat had already began to bead on his brow as the blazing lights sweltered down on him.


With a gulp he looked to the orchestra by his side, watching him as the applause came to a halt. "Does anypony have spare rosin?" he asked with a cheeky smirk, a line of sweat lying upon his brow.


A few chuckles grew from the orchestra and a small pot of the amber residue floated over. He smiled in thanks gripping the bow as he began to apply the solid across the hair bow. "Rosin is... Quite useful in my profession," he began with a gulp.


"You are so fucked," Sid spoke with a cringe that Duke could practically feel. 


"Thanks," he thought, maintaining his smile, "The rosin protects the hair on the bow and is actually quite good at it," he spoke, pointing his bow at a mare in the audience, "You should use it on your mane some time," he smiled, the orchestra chuckling along with him.


He put the rosin down and placed the bow slowly on the first string with a gulp. "If you have a plan, do it now..." He whispered painfully through his comm. With a modest nod he glided the bow across the A string, the bow jumped and fumbled a bit before a solid sound was produced glancing back to the Orchestra.


As expected they all raised their instruments and began tuning again, the conductor flicking through his thick scores once more. 


"8... 7... 6..," he heard Sid count, his eyes gliding to the guards that stood scattered around the edges of the room, not a muscle moved, "5... Guards in your immediate area down. Changing mag," she said procedurally as the audience looked at Duke in quiet anticipation.


"Block your ears and run for the verandah, pickup on the way," she spoke once more before the soft click and a light whir filled the comms. 


"You bitch," he muttered as his hooves covered his ears tightly, the crowd staring in confusion before they began to drop and writhe in obvious pain, a few covering their own ears and others simply dropping down unconscious. Everypony looked around in confusion, spreading out and scattering as whatever Presidio did took hold.


"Round on target, clear," Duke let his hooves drop and he got up and charged past the many mares and stallions that lay in pain on the ground, a gentle ring lingered in the air. "Oh how I love these concussive rounds," she sighed happily.


"Half of them are deaf now aren't they?" he asked, skidding to a halt by the verandah overlooking the ocean.


"Only for a few hours," she stated, the sound of her clambering back to her hooves was a mere testament to her boredom.


"Where is my lift?" he asked impatiently, looking back at the few guests that had clambered back to their hooves, shaking their heads with disorientation.


"Patience," Sid tutted.


Pacing back nervously he soon sighed with relief as a small blue luxury shuttle with white racing stripes descended from the night sky and blared it's rotating engines downwards to hover just by the verandah edge. The door split horizontally and folded outwards into a vertical position, the cushioned interior was a welcome sight for the suited stallion.


"Nice car."


"That's what I said to the guy driving it," Sid laughed over the comms, "get in."


"My mother always told me not to get into a car with a stranger," he sighed as he jumped in, the door sliding shut and a heavy jolt of the engines flaring sent him falling into one of the cushioned seats. He sat up from his hunched sitting position and glanced forward to the driver's seat, finding it empty.


"If you didn't get into a car with a stranger, how would you have met me?"


"That's true," he smirked, "but I recall you were in the car... Not flying it be remote access." 


"You sound disappointed," she said with an obvious frown over the comms, "do you miss me?"


"I miss parts of you," he stated vaguely with a smirk.


"Asshole."







It wasn't too long before the nauseating flashes of red and blue soaked the outer walls of the marble made manor, the many nobles came stumbling out, dazed and confused as they were led on by those dressed in white paramedic uniforms. The fluted colonnades cast shadows of ethereal night as the lights faded on and off.


The nearby lights attracted moths and other bothersome insects that circled their target constantly, cicadas sang in the distance whilst the simple chirps of grasshoppers resonated by the lake over the bank. All along the outside of the manor was a collection of blue and purple flowers, sitting enclosed by a green hedge, carved to perfection.


The ringing still resonated within the Lieutenant's head, his ears twitching involuntary at the intruding sound. "What a fun night," he muttered as he brushed lint off of his white service dress jacket, lined with gold, his night blue dress shirt buried beneath, the many silver pips that lined his collar spoke volumes of his rank and achievements. 


He held a hoof to his tufted ear once more before running it through his silver blue mane, he was young for his rank... Wearing a disheveled frown that seemed to have been carved onto his face. His mane hung in front of his face and he stared at it uselessly with a seemingly fierce expression as the ringing continued.


There were plenty of bat ponies around the area... It was their diplomatic party... But none wore a uniform of the United Equus Federation, none donned the moon with fiery gold wings on their shoulders as insignia. The highest ranking bat pony in the UEF was definitely a guest of honour at such an event, yet it was still unusual to wear the uniform amongst his own kind. Many others from the UEF had soon arrived, sweeping the area and escorting the disconcerted nobles out. But that was the least important thing plaguing his mind. 


"Sir?" The words came, muffled and hazed. The Lieutenant shook his head and looked up, the ringing seeming to fade for a few moments as he regained concentration, sitting upon the back of an ambulance staring out at those leaving the manor. 


"Yes Ensign what is it?" He asked with a few confused blinks. 


"Are you feeling alright?" She asked with a raised brow.


"No, but I'll live," he sighed, rubbing his ear once more. "What's the situation?"


"We have a witness who claims to know who the attacker was," the Ensign stated with a quick glance down at her notes, rolling by on a slate of blue shaded glass. Wearing the same uniform as  him, a white baseball cap with the UEF insignia blazoned upon the front sat atop her purple mane, dangling uselessly across her forehead. 


He sat up, raising a brow at the ensign. "Attacker? I thought this was a kidnapping, our cellist is missing."


"Our cellist isn't our cellist," the ensign spoke vaguely, her golden eyes passing over the pad once more, "He was downstairs the whole time, he hadn't even left his dressing room." 


"So this was an attack? On what?" He asked himself rhetorically. "Where is he?"


The Ensign glanced over her shoulder to a fuming stallion arguing with the nearby conductor. "That colourful individual there," she said with a peeved snort at the cellist.


"Thank you," he said with a grunt, forcing himself up from the bumper of the ambulance and beginning to trot over with an ambivalent look strewn across his features. "Start bagging evidence," he called over his shoulder.


"Aye sir," the Ensign responded robotically, before she moved off.


Passing through the holographic police lines that hovered in warning in front of the manor, the Lieutenant made his way to the two arguing stallions, catching only snippets of their conversation.


"I was shot! What did you expect me to do?!" 


"Not get shot! That's what musicians do, we don't fuck up!" 


"So my cello was stolen, I was shot and you blame me?!"


"Gentlecolts," the Lieutenant cut in, both their death glares moving to him before fading to guilty looks. "Is there a problem here?"


"Not at all..." The conductor mumbled grumpily.


With a smile the lieutenant turned to face the cellist. "I'm assuming you were this evenings performer?" 


"Yes," he replied simply, "I was meant to perform this evening," he sneered at the conductor.


"The whole orchestra were performers too, there was a lot we couldn't play!" The conductor complained with a strained outburst.


"You may leave," was all that was said to him by the authoritative tone of the uniformed stallion.


"But~," was all he could make out before he was interrupted. 


"Now," barked the Lieutenant as he glared him down. 


With a sharp breath and an angry sigh he stormed off, passing the cellist by with a growl. "Don't expect to get payed for this." 


The cellist watched him trot away before mumbling a few hushed curses at him. "Asshole..." He sighed, facing the Lieutenant. "Apologies, us musicians seek conflict where none exists."


Nodding at his simple explanation he got straight to business. "I am Lieutenant Alcor, with the UEF branch of information. As I understand it, it appears that the Thestral diplomatic manor was attacked this evening and you are labelled as a witness," he began, pulling out the glass slate that flickered to life as it began to record the current conversation.


"Yes, he shot me in the chest," he explained, gesturing to the empty patch of fur that had been fizzled away by the round.


"So it was a male who shot you?" 


"Yes, had a big cheesy grin on his face when he shot me... I'll remember that face for a while." 


"So you managed to look at him?"


"Look at him? Hell if I could paint I could make you a picture of him."


"Would you object to a memory screen of the past few hours?" Lieutenant Alcor asked.


"Memory screen? What would that involve?" The cellist asked with intrigue.


"A simple scan of the memories from the last few hours that will be taken as evidence," Alcor explained simply, his face still as deadpan as ever.


"I don't see a problem with it," he shrugged.


"Very good," Alcor said with a light smile, "Ensign Vela will arrange everything," gesturing to the Ensign from earlier, standing by a fold out table with evidence being collected and documented by several police officers. 


"And what of my cello?" He asked.


With a feigned smile, he spoke in a rehearsed manner. "We'll endeavour to try and return it to you as soon as possible."







"What do you mean you're not coming back to the ship?" Duke asked, loosening his black bow tie as the shuttle bobbed on casually through the night. 


"Raccoon has another job for me," was all that the British mare spoke through the comms. 


"Sid..." He began with a disapproving tone.


"Look, it pays well and we need the money right now."


"And I don't like hearing in the news about assassinations and the sorts." 


With a sigh Presidio came back on. "I won't be long, a day or two at most... I'll meet you back at Tal Shi'ar." 


"I doubt I'll be able to find you once you step on that moon."


"I'll come straight to you, no fights, drinks or drugs... I'll steer clear this time."


"That'll be a first," Duke snickered. 


"I can behave you know."


"Alright," he conceded with a humph, "Just kill the right person this time around."


"Last time was an accident I swear!" She argued back with a light chuckle following her voice. "I'll set you down, the Lucentia isn't far." 


The whir of the engine soon began to slow as the shuttle began to descend and come to a hovered halt. Duke moved to the door and opened it with a satisfied hiss as the door swung upwards. 


"I'm assuming you're taking the shuttle?" He asked as he slung the cello over his back and jumped out onto the stodgy muddled ground of the clearing. They were situated in the middle of a forest clearing, tall trees bushed out into the night sky as the moon just barely penetrated the leaves and long vines that hung there.


"Remote interface is still there so yes," she mumbled back, preoccupied at that point. "I need to get to my target somehow." 


"Why not walk?" Duke asked as he closed the shuttle door and began to trot away, glancing back as it began to rise back into the night sky once more, the dull trill of crickets began to fill the atmosphere as it flew away.


"I'm not walking through space Duke."


With a laugh he made his way towards the darkened forest, a vine brushing past his hoof as he climbed over an overgrown root.


"Remember, Cals bedtime is soon, I don't want her up too long," Presidio reminded him. 


"Eh, she works until she's tried, that little vent rat can manage herself," he mentioned, narrowing his eyes into the darkness, seeing the many uprooted trees, vines and stones. The dull glow of the manor could be seen through the cracks in the foliage, like a soft beacon glowing across the massive lake that separated the two locations, with fireflies bouncing and over the top of the water.


"I wish you'd stop calling her that." 


Duke smirked as he continued to push through the undergrowth, the light of the moon highlighting his obstacles. "She likes it though, and it's not like it's not true." 


"She may use the vents to get around but that's cause she's doing maintenance, she's hardly a rat."


"Either that or peeping in on us again," he chuckled.


"She hasn't done it yet, but when she does you and I will have to have a long talk with her."


"Yeah yeah, when and if you stop making so much noise." 


Sid laughed at the remark before tutting lightly. "We both know that silencers reduce the stopping power of a round."


Duke raised a brow at her comment, pushing through some hanging vines to see the light glow of his ship in the distance, sitting right below another clearing. "I wasn't talking about firearms Sid."


"Neither was I," she teased back.


"Oh, you cheeky bitch."


"Bite me," was all she retorted. "I'll see you in a few days."


Duke smiled as looked up to the clearing. "Keep safe, don't die, drink water." 


"I always do," was all that was said before the comm fell silent.


Approaching the illuminated ship, it's features soon came to light. Painted a copper brown and jutting out of the vined area. It stood upon four landing gears, pushing it up far to allow for the large underbelly of a cargo hold to fit in. Mostly rectangular in appearance, it's front face angled backward with many dull lights blooming out of the glass cockpit that sat on top of the beast.


It's monstrous underbelly sat open, a warm light pouring, the darkened sides of the ship were lit with the happy buzz of placid fireflies, hives hanging from the trees nearby.


"Home sweet home," he sighed with complacency. His approach was slow, sauntering over with the cello close at hoof and an undone bow tie dangling from around his neck.


The slow beat of a waltz soon began to ripple through the air from inside the ship. "Ah don't like this onnnnne bit," the southern twang of a stallion rang out. 


With a smirk, Duke reached the hold bay ramp and began trotting up, chuckling at the sight before him.


A towering silver stallion stood by a small light blue filly who was grinning ear to ear as she attempted a simple waltz with him. A maze of metal stairs swung their way above them before making its way into the ship, the surrounding cargo hold was clear, with exception of the necessities they needed that sat towering by the walls around them.


He had a strained expression on his face, his desert mane stuck out loosely beneath an orange beanie with fluffy tassels. "You know ah can't dance." He held his body stiff, looming over the filly with a gruff and taciturn demeanour, seeming to wear it like an old empty scar.


"ToUgh." The filly responded erratically, her voice laced with a mechanical tinge. Her night blue mane sat up in a tidy bun with two braids running down either side of her cheeks, maintaining a modern look with a splash of oil grease and dirt marks that covered her body like tiny abstract tattoos.

The innards of the ship hung open for all to see, with loose cabling hanging from the ceiling and old crates lay discarded in corners of desolate dust. A flickering orange light hung amongst the many dozens that dangled from steel railings, stairs, walls and supports, lighting the cargo bay in a gentle orange haze.


"You would've enjoyed the ball you two... It was fun," Duke smirked as he trotted on through casually, the towering stallion breaking away from the filly instinctively. "Isn't it your bed time Cal?" Duke asked.


"I sLeep wHen I WaNt," she said with a tongue stuck out.


"Eh, that's what I told Sid." 


With a giggle she ran back up to the tall silver stallion with glee.


"Cmon... I need to talk to this big old softie," Duke said, placing the cello down and ruffling her neatly done mane, "Cain and I still have work to do," Duke reminded Cain with a raised brow and a knowing smirk. 


With a pout she stared up at Duke pleadingly. 


"Cmon you little vent rat, I'm sure there's something for you to do for the time being." 


"FiNe," she sighed, trotting away with a disappointed look in her purple speckled eyes.


"She really wanted to go to that ball tonight y'know," Cain said as she began climbing the metal stairs that mazes their way into the ship. He gave the desert goatee upon his chin and scratch before facing Duke with melancholic blue eyes


"By the looks of it so did you," Duke commented as he picked the cello up and began to walk towards one of the interior walls. 


"Ahh you know Cal," he drawled out, "She gives you those puppy dog eyes and y'know you have to help," he smirked like it was already nostalgic. 


"Nope, never happened to me before," Duke said with a thoughtful expression as he knelt by the wall, pressing the panel and letting it sink in with a thud. 


Sliding into and away from the wall, Duke revealed one of the many hidden compartments. Filled with small cardboard boxes with loose paper and a few miscellaneous items he pushed the cello within.


"Well that says ah lot about you."


Duke grinned and nodded as he pulled the panel back into place. "Yup, it says I'm not a big softie like you."


"Harhar," Cain mocked with a roll of the eyes, "how was the mission?" 


"Clean," Duke responded simply, "in and out without anypony knowing I was there to steal the cello."







"So this is the one who stole the cello?" Alcor asked as he looked at the photos of the tuxedoed white stallion that was Duke, holding his sidearm with a grin on his face.


"Yes, he was the one who shot me... As you can quite clearly see," the cellist sighed, looking at the images from his very own mind. 


"Well then, it looks like I can start digging. Thank you, you may leave." 


"Thank you," he said with a disgruntled sigh, sliding out of the chair and trotting out of the office.


"That went smoothly," Alcor sighed, leaning back in his seat as he glanced to the young Ensign that sat to his side facing the wall. 


She wasn't as animated as the Lieutenant, holding a fierce concentration in her golden eyes as she sifted through mounds upon mounds of data, scrolling by her screen. She was so by the book she most likely rewrote it due to its inefficiencies. Her hair was kept in line at all times, always covered with a basic UEF cap. 


"Hardly," she commented, swivelling around on her chair, the white overcoat hanging off the back, her dark blue dress shirt a sure contrast to the brown of the wall behind her. "Commandeering a police precinct is difficult paperwork."


"Hence why you do it for me," he said back with a small chuckle, leaning forward and peering at the photo again. "Say there Ensign Vela... Care to speculate with me?"


"Most mistakes are made by assumption and speculation... But sure," was all she mumbled as she lazed on over and dragged her chair with her. 


"What do you see in this picture?" He asked, gesturing to Dukes grinning and armed form.


"A stallion who shot a cellist... What of it?"


He smirked and shook his head. "That's not speculation, that's stating the obvious... Most of the work you'll ever do in the Intelligence Branch is speculate... Find tiny details that can give us a clue."


With a sigh she looked closer, glancing back at him with her golden eyes before focussing once more. "He has a suit, well cut so he must be either wealthy or well supplied..." She began. "The reported pun could mean he was thinking a lot about this, which means the fact he is shooting a pony doesn't hold much weight."


"Good," he commented, watching her with vague interest, "continue."


Clearing her throat she examined the picture more. "The easy go lucky look is a sign of somepony experienced or mad but the mad don't plan this far without any hiccups."


"So he's experienced?" He asked to clarify.


"Yes, the hoof mounted weapon is typical but the rounds are definitely something new. He didn't go to kill, he stole a cello, he's experienced and well supplied."


"So a soldier of fortune that has been hired to steal a specialist good." 


"Yes, but how does that help?"


He shrugged. "Well the only place with ponies this experienced or mad is Tal Shi'ar..."


"Well... Shit," she cursed as she flopped back in her chair. 


"Is that a problem?" Alcor asked with a smirk.


"No sir... Other than the fact that no one in the UEF has ever gone in and come out normal. Anyone that visits is immediately blacklisted and monitored twenty-four seven."


"Didn't stop me."


"Pardon me?" She asked, her eyes widening in shock.


"Tal Shi'ar is easy to enter, harder to get out... But I've done it before."


"What? When?!" 


"We have time for stories later... But now, focus on this stallion. Confirm it, find any other sightings of this guy... If we can point it at Tal Shi'ar then we can catch him," he said with determination, climbing out of his seat and trotting towards the door, fixing his coat as he moved.


"But we don't have jurisdiction in that space, the Zebras will blow us to pieces, if we get past the paid pirates in that area, how did you even get there?"


"Confirm it," he ordered, I'll arrange everything else."


"Sir?" 


"Breathe the air deep Ensign, before it’s filled with opium and sex."


> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A recent attack on the Thestral diplomatic manor has many politicians and diplomats fearing more for their lives when making public appearances in and around Federation occupied space," the newsmare rattled on, headlines scrolling beneath her; the ballroom could be seen behind with police lights fading in and out. "Many speculate what this could mean for the recent formation of the UEF and whether or not this attack was linked to the increased pirate activity coming in from the outer edges of the territory. Authorities thus far have refused to comment. Keeping you updated, UEF news-" the flat mounted TV shut off with a dissatisfied crackle as Duke slid the remote across the blackened marble kitchen bench.


"Well isn't that great," he sighed with a content grin, trotting out from the open kitchen with a glass of autumn coloured whiskey in hoof; moving into the joint dining room with slight swagger in his step. The clank of empty liquor bottles cried out as they were nudged uselessly as he made his way across the room to a coiled collection of neon lights that was their jukebox.


Leaning against the coloured collection of black onyx records, he stared, his breath fogging up the glass as he mashed several buttons to place a song in play. 


It was easy to tell where the crew had been, with empty liquor bottles, old tablets, paper strewn into balls of inked maché that littered tables and select areas of the grey tiled floor. The wooden planked walls provided a warm glow to the room as the kitchen lights hung precariously and shone with a white iridescence, using old filament light bulbs instead of the newer laser diodes that were used more commonly. 


Staggering over to the strained cream sofa, he grinned, clacking his glass on a coaster by the wooden coffee table that sat in front. With a puff he slumped down into the sofa, staring up at the now black tv screen that hung from the wall. A light crackle surprised him before he glanced at the spinning record inside the jukebox start up a lazy jazz trio, tapping through quietly. Sighing, he reached fourth and clambered for his drink, holding it up to the light with a cheeky snicker before taking a long sip, letting the burning sensation of wood tainted gold slither down his throat.


"I have to get a new bottle soon..." He thought to himself as he swished the liquid around in the glass, glancing to one of the many rotunda booths that sat in each corner of the mess, lone bottles lay like discarded corpses from one of his many drunken wars.


Lying back he held the glass to his chest and let his eyes shut slowly, the gentle hum of the engine rolled through the ship like the throbbing buzz of a hummingbird. He could feel his head throb periodically... Like counting sheep as his mind drifted further and further away. 


Yet something jolted him from his sleep. A light scampering echoed through the vents of the ship, a light tapping that caused him to groan with uneasy adamance. Cracking his eyes open he stared at the nearby vent across the room, watching it slowly creak open. 


With a grunt he sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing back to see the small filly Cal squeezing through the vent shaft with ease, scrambling out and down to the floor. She was out of the frilly dress from earlier, instead wearing a scraggly and greased pair of overalls, with discoloured stripes running up her hooves, her shoulders leaving space for insignia to be placed, but it had long been torn off and replaced with a big smiley face sticker. Her dark blue mane had been taken out of its bun and lay in a tangled and coiled mess.


"Cal..." Duke began with a drone.


"I'm goIng, I'm GoiNg," she responded erratically as she moved towards the kitchen. "I caN't sleEp thoUgh," she stated with annoyance, her ears lying flat against her head.


"Count sheep," he chuckled tipsily to her.


"I RaN oUt," her robotic voice cracked back, "cAn I haVe somE?" She asked, trotting over and gesturing to the whiskey.


With a snort he shook his head. "This will not help you sleep," Duke assured her with a slur, before taking a slurp from his every empty glass. 


"YOu loOk sleEPy," Cal pointed out, clambering up the couch and peering over the back at the kitchen. 


"This is bad for you," he attempted to explain. "Besides... Presidio would kill me."


Giggling, Cal went on. "If I Can'T havE Any, let Me stAy up!" She bargained with a devilish smirk. 


"Get me the bottle and we have a deal," Duke smirked, shaking his empty glass, clinking the ice within.


"Tell mE abOut the Ball?" She asked as well.


Duke merely shook his glass again. "We'll see."


With a electronic squee she skipped over the top of the couch and scampered off to fetch the bottle of whiskey. Duke breathed in deeply and ran a hoof through his disheveled brown mane.


"How's the engine?" Duke asked with a hefty cough and a grunt.


"PuRriNg siNce we ToOk off tWo houRs aGo," Cal called from the kitchen, skipping her way back in with the sloshing bottle of whiskey in her mouth. 


"That's good," he sighed, taking the bottle gently from her and clumsily filling his glass once more.


"Tell mE aboUt the ball!" Cal demanded with an excited glimmer in her eye, pushing against his side with both her hooves.


Groaning he rolled his head around, resting it against the back of the sofa. "Now?" He asked adamantly.


"Do yOu liKe havinG power tO your rooM?" She asked with a smirk. 


With a grunt he sat up. "You're getting too clever for me now," he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes once more. 


"Cmon!" She begged, kneading his side with her hooves annoyingly. 


"Alright alright," he surrendered, "where shall I start?" 


"From the very beginning!"


"Alright... So... The universe used to be empty-" 


"Beginning of the ball!" She whined, hitting his side playfully.


With a chuckle he gestured for her to come and rest by his side. The filly obliged and curled up next to him, his hoof ruffling her already messy mane. "So I arrived at the ball at arou-" 


"Was it aT a caStle?" The filly interjected already.


"A small one yes," he chuckled, appealing to the filly's vibrant imagination, "with... Tall walls and banners hanging from every keep."


"Was thEre a DrawbRidge? And a MoAt?" 


"The biggest drawbridge I'd ever seen for such a small castle, with big snapping crocodiles below," he clacked his teeth together to imitate them.


With a giggle she peered up at him, urging him to go on. 


"There was a garden past the drawbridge... With every flower you could imagine, some I haven't even seen before." 


"And hEdges? WiTh aniMals carVed into thEm?"


"Oh yes," he smirked, "a big sea serpent and a giant Phoenix. There were knights and all the walls had paintings on them. There were vines that wrapped around every pillar and-"


"A priNceSs?!" She asked excitedly, interrupting him again.


"The prettiest princess you could ever imagine," he slurred, bopping her nose playfully as she scrunched it up.


Dukes ears twitched involuntarily as a few hoofsteps echoed down the nearby hallway as Cain came trotting through with a disappointed look on his face. 


"Why is she still up?"


"Oh you know Cal..." Duke began with a smirk, turning his head to see him, "She gives you those puppy dog eyes and y'know you have to help," Duke finished with a slightly southern twang to mimic Cain.


"Yeah... Ah'm sure," he grunted, nodding to the bottle, "you been drinking?"


"It helps with verbal fluency and good stories," Duke laughed.


"It'S a GoOd sTory!" Cal called to Cain, peering over the top of the couch at him. 


"Ah'm sure it is, knowing Duke and his stories."


Duke snorted as he sipped the last of his drink away, "I told you how I met that big oaf didn't I?" Duke coughed.


"YeS," Cal replied softly, "he wAs uNder atTack by grYph-"


"The biggest gryphons!" Duke announced with a roar, "right before I scared the lot of them off." 


"Yes, and last I checked they were a problem for the next two months." Cain mumbled as he trotted over and picked the reluctant Cal up. "C'mon you, sleep or build something, you were up all day."


With a humpf, she clambered onto his back, holding onto his long mane comfortably, twirling it around a hoof.


"Those were the days weren't they Cain?" Duke asked, continuing the conversation with a drunken slur.


"Ah don't miss the military," he stated before looking down at Duke.


"Neither do I... But still we had fun." 


"You," Cain said with the same fatherly tone he gave Cal, "Sleep."


With a roll of his eyes he placed his glass down uneasily. "Don't order the hooves that pay you," Duke said with a wobble.


"I'm merely trying to keep those hooves well rested." 


"NiGht DuKesy!" Cal yelled happily as Cain took her away.


"Night Cal!" He called back with the same enthusiasm.


"Duke go to bed," Cain repeated as he climbed the small metal framed steps up into the circular corridor, illuminated in darkness.


With a grunt he rolled off of the couch and began to make his own drunken way to bed, letting the record spin on cluelessly. Stumbling up the stairs he entered the labyrinth of corridors that ate their way through the ship, his hooves clanging loudly against the metal walkway that sat beneath him. 


Everything felt like it was rocking back and fourth, the walkway seemed to swing as Duke stumbled along and clung to the rails that flanked him. Leaning against the wall he stabilised himself and leaned down, gripping a latch down by the wall. With a tug the panel came undone and rolled away to reveal a ladder.


Carefully he pressed his hooves against the wall as he lowered himself down, his hind hooves lazily searching for the first rung so he could clamber down. Beginning his descent, he hit the wall beside him and the panel above him rolled back over and clicked shut. "Oh the joys of being close to the mess hall," he thought with a tired smile.


Making his way down the ladder he felt his hind hoof hit the floor and he awkwardly pushed off and stumbled into the room below. 


Filled with the gentle blue haze of a nebula in the far distance out the window, a smoky prelude to future things. The clutter of his room was in a surprisingly controlled chaos. A bookshelf sat in the corner directly in front, filled with books and several bobble heads of sports stars and controversial games that nodded to the throb of the engine.


The walls held many posters and frames, one yelling "Vaporian champions league" in bright blue letters, another of a signed shirt of one of the players with the number 77. His old military uniform pressed against the glass of its frame, the blue dress shirt with silver linings held two medals, whilst the overbearing white dress jacket with gold on its sides held silver pips along the collar.


Sitting in the back centre was a large double bed, tied down neatly, the duvet tucked beneath the mattress with military hospital corners jutting out. His suit from earlier lay crumpled upon its surface. A flickering holographic console sat on the desk across from the bed, clearly faulty.


All of which stared out the large circular window that stared out into the frozen abyss of space. "Peace," Duke slurred, stumbling forward and falling flat onto the bed with a light bounce, "I wonder how long that will last."


*


"Our mission is a go," Alcor announced as he pushed through the police precinct doors, trotting past the many cubicles that filled the large room. All the desks had a matching black chair, every one empty and desolate, the desk lamps all off with exception of one.


"They approved our mission?" Ensign Vela asked, peeking up over her console with a confused glare.


"Of course! It's only a trip to the most dangerous territory in explored space," he smirked as he crashed down into a rolling chair once more, scooting over to her with a steady glide. 


"And they just said yes?" She practically repeated with the same unbelieving glare.


"Well I outlined that there was a great intelligence sweep we could do and that convinced them," he smiled.


"So we're chasing a thief and catching up on all the corrupt politicians in UEF space?"


"Exactly!" He clapped her shoulder. "But that is our secondary objective... Right now, we want to catch our guy."


She chuckled and turned back to her console, typing up one of her many thousand reports. "Haven't come up for a nickname for him?" She asked with surprise. "The cello snatcher? The noble napper?"


"How about twat? Easy to remember isn't it?" Alcor snorted, "it's not like he'll be out for long, we'll have him sooner or later."


"Of course," she agreed immediately, focussing back at her work.


"Now! Before I forget, I need you to sign this," he said pulling a glass slate from his pocket, sliding it across the table as it flickered to life.


"What is this?" She asked as she began reading, her hooves still on her keyboard. "Wait... What?!" She exclaimed as she slipped it up into her hooves. 


"You're being discharged, this is your report," Alcor explained.


"B-but... This is... What why?!" 


"There have never been any official mission to Tal Shi'ar ever, too many informants snap up information like this."


Vela stared in shock as she read the rolling screen. "Being discharged for aggravated assault and for treason against the UEF? Who wrote this?"


"I did," Alcor admitted, "a newly promoted Ensign tends to get ahead of themselves."


"But I did none of these things!" She argued back immediately, tossing the slate back at him.


With a sigh he tapped the table as he thought. "Okay... Let me explain this differently... If we go to Tal Shi'ar whilst working for the UEF information Branch on an official mission..." He said clearly, staring at her very seriously. "We will die, or worse."


She bit her cheek gently as she mulled the prospect over. Raising a hesitant hoof she reached forward and grabbed the slate. "So I'm signing an indemnity form?"


"Exactly... Except it's temporary, once this is signed, officially we are no longer working for the Branch of information... Our files remain untouched but these files and our following report of the mission, will go to the Federation Branch of Espionage and Subterfuge... Do you understand?" He asked, staring at her, his calm and light hearted demeanour was gone.


"Should we not make a plan first?" 


"No, if we do that it looks like we're planning to go undercover... If we get discharged dishonourably and run to Tal Shi'ar, we'll fit right in." 


"And what of my pay during this time?" 


"Paid leave and bonuses paid to an off base account, our mission funding is also there."


"Mission funding?" Vela asked.


Running a hoof along his lips he mimicked a zipper closing.


"Right... Confidential..." She mumbled before sighing. "Fine, I'll do it," she submitted, pressing her hoof onto the dotted line, the slate flashing green as it scanned her hoof. With a satisfied Bing it accepted her hoof and she gave it back to Alcor. "So what now sir?


"Firstly, drop the sir, neither of us have rank anymore," he explained before wheeling her chair away and scooting in front of her monitor, saving and closing all her open files. "Secondly we have new dossiers." He smiled, pulling up the login screen and typing in a line of numbers as his name, instead of the usual initials. 


"A spy network?" She asked with a sarcastic tone.


"Of course," he murmured, the screen flickering off before welcoming him with a longer stream of numbers that soon lead to the darkened desktop with only one file sitting in the top corner. "How else would I get orders?"


She kept silent as she watched him open up the folder and open two documents, revealing new aliases, occupations, backgrounds and histories. "Why do we need fake identification?" She asked cluelessly.


"We have been discharged from the UEF, your commanding officer has more redacted files on his record than would be necessary and now we are both now wanted for treason against the princesses and the UEF... I'd get a new ID."


"Yeah... You're right."


"I thought your deduction skills were a lot better than this Ensign," he smiled as he began to copy the files over onto the slate still in hoof. 


"Drop the rank Alcor," she quipped back.


With a laugh he closed the files and pocketed the slate. "Enjoy this while it lasts."


"So I'll get my job back?"


"There'll always be paper to be pushed," he smirked, clapping her shoulder once more. "Now, tell me what you know of Tal Shi'ar?" He asked, pulling open a command prompt on the screen and typing in several commands.


"Only as much as everypony else, it's a pirate haven out at the edge of the UEF territories, but last I checked the only way to get in is by joining a pirate gang or getting captured by said pirate gangs," she recounted to him. 


"That much is true but there's a lot more that we keep away from the public," he said, typing slowly as he spoke. 


Vela sat up and looked at the screen that popped up as he hit enter. "What the-"


"It's a city, fully self sufficient and built on the inside of an asteroid," he said, gesturing to the many blurred photos of the gargantuan asteroid with many spires and buildings jutting out of it. Surrounding it was a bombardment of smaller rocks and ship debris as it flew by simply, a bright concentration of white light on the photo showed a high powered energy round fired at whatever ship took the photos. 


"But... How? They're pirates, how have they built all this?" She asked dumbfounded.


He nodded and pulled up a separate window. "They have a very loose government, a monarchy... Or an oligarchy, something like that," he rattled on, speeding up to get to the point, "they are controlled by the stallion here," pointing at the dossier file, an empty picture merely stared back with extremely limited information. "He is a Zebra that goes by the name of 'Raccoon'."


She snorted and raised her brow, "Raccoon?" She asked, "an unusual alias if you ask me."


"One that manages to control all four pirate clans. Every photo we ever take gets deleted. Age is Uknown, family is Uknown, birthplace is Uknown... He was first sighted eighteen years ago as an arms dealer working out of the United Zebra colonies... Though they'll deny any affiliation," he muttered under his breath. "Eight years later and he was in charge of the newly formed pirate fleet and they pillaged a heavily defended mining base and built Tal Shi'ar atop the ruins... After that all we have are loose reports of his scavenging parties during the war and the supply of narcotics and weapons coming from that location." 


"This is a lot to read," she mumbled, skimming through the reports.


"He's on the top five most wanted list... Plenty to read and plenty of time to read it," Alcor said before closing the computer down. "Come, we're fugitives now, act the part." Slipping on a pair of black sunglasses and making his way back to the front of the station.


Glancing down at the bag at her side she nodded to herself instinctively before scooping it up and following after him quickly as he pushed open the doors to the heavy blur of rain falling down as the haze of nearby cars whizzed by. The doors slowly eased shut as she slipped past and followed the ever moving Alcor.


"Alcor, where are we going?" She asked as she pushed through other ponies with umbrellas walking towards them.


"We have a flight to catch," he said as deadpan as ever, glancing across the street at the few police officers patrolling through the dampened night. 


"You haven't exactly told me much," she started, nudging and weaving to keep up with him. "I'm expecting some answers."


"All in due time, but right now we could be caught before we even begin," he explained, clinging to the walls of buildings to avoid the crowd before turning down a dark alley. 


"I'm not trained for this kind of work, I've been trained for administration duties," she rattled on, Alcor turning and pushing her up against the alley wall with a thud. 


"Then why'd you sign the form," he asked with a tilt in his head, the rain pelting their wet uniforms. 


"Nothing was explained to me," she hissed at him, struggling against his grip. 


"I outlined that we would be going into the most dangerous area of space, without an official UEF organisation at our backs. I can't have you flip flopping on things like this, we just left the fucking station."


"I want to catch this guy as much as you but I need some assurances," she growled once more.


He sighed and let her go before continuing to walk down the alley. "We can talk when we're out of the rain."


She brushed and fixed her uniform before glaring at his back, following reluctantly. "Sure," she muttered to him.


Passing around the back of several buildings they wound their way around. The once neon colour roads and cars were gone and they trotted on empty concrete grounds, covered with rubbish and discarded cigarettes, several bottles lining their way.


Above loomed the tall buildings with their brightly coloured signs and holographic advertisement projections. Eventually all that passed Vela was hooded stallions coughing and sputtering, or a bat pony collecting mounds of garbage into the confines of a trolley, pushing it along. 


They navigated the streets in silence, Vela following a few steps behind, glancing at the underbelly of a city she didn't know, everything hidden away behind polished metals and shining advertisements. 


Passing around another broken corner they began to pass through the fields of steam that rose from industrial plates below them, a group of hooded individuals stood in the distance, smoking and loitering as one tagged the wall with profanities and gang signs. 


"Alcor... Where are we going?" She piped up cautiously.


"Just keep your cool," he whispered back on their approach. A few stallions pushed away from the wall and began to notice the approaching pair with peaked interest. 


"Check this out," Vela heard one mumble as the group ceased what they were doing and approached, confronting Alcor and Vela, surrounding them in a stumbled fashion. 


"What brings... The UEF back here?" One asked with a sniff, twirling his cigarette around in his lips with his magic. 


"I could ask the same thing," Alcor replied with a smirk. 


The group laughed and the lead approached, sending out fumes of smoke as he chuckled. "I don't see me wearing a uniform... I'm too much of... An aristocrat," he smiled, his face lighting up with the embers of his cigarette.


"I wouldn't argue with that," Alcor said, "do you have what I need?" He asked, standing staunch as ever.


The lead stallion chuckled again and glanced around nervously before his whole demeanour shattered. "Of course," he spoke, his voice changing into a gruff rumble as he threw his cigarette away. Moving to a nearby garbage container he opened it and drew fourth two black duffle bags, sliding them across the ground towards them. "Change of clothes, new ID's, a ship and a few extras."


"Thank you Aristocrat," Alcor smiled, picking both bags up. 


"Who's the newbie?" 


"Potential operative," he said, glancing back at her, "if she becomes more decisive."


The Aristocrat smirked, "let's hope she learns quickly."


"With me? Of course she will," Alcor boasted.


"It's good to have you back either way Alcor, the FBES is looking forward to your report," the Aristocrat said as he passed Alcor, leading his group away just as quickly as they arrived.


"Fortitudo et ordinem," was all he muttered as the group vanished back into the steamed alleyway.


*


Pushing through the double doors with a heavy groan, the hooded stallion stepped past the gold gilded chamber behind him and into a labyrinth of metal and jutted stone, crimson lights mounting the wall and coating all in its dull red glow. The smell of a musky herbal fume began to flow through, causing him to turn his nose but he pushed through as the doors closed shut behind him and the essence that filled the air became stronger as he approached one final door, pushing it open with ease.


Greeted with the crowds of all different races taking part in acts of violent debauchery that lined the many booths that clung to each wall of the massive domed chamber he entered. A group on his right lay motionless on bean bags, puffing out large quantities of smoke from the collective group hookah, the flowered scent of opium slipping by on the deft sense of many bat ponies that clung from ceiling, watching down with curious interest as they continued their low chattering above. 


Around him, the smell of  various drugs filled the air, the heavy beat of an techno ragtime rumbled through his hooves as a DJ flicked more records on, clearly on a high of his own. Drinks clinked together at a neon filled bar at the far wall next to the DJ, a gryphon sat lonesome by the tabletop whilst many behind stumbled and held their heads clutched as they sat there. Every booth was accompanied by a curtain, several lay shut to conceal whatever illegal business deal or questionable acts went down. Laughs and yelling took place at all tables, with those gambling with liars dice and other games like blackjack and poker, whilst edged their limbs closer and closer to collections of dangerous spiders within a jar whilst others cheered on.


A bull stood guard by the far door, with a gryphon wandering past the many groups with a rifle slung over its feathered back. A hoof fight was merely beginning as two mares began to fight and yell at each other, hardly any eyes glanced over to observe as all continued in their worlds of tired euphoria.


A working mare had strutted her way past a group who grabbed at her legs and pulled her away with a playful squeal as her work had merely begun. Others merely followed the workers to sets of white soaked doors, glowing like a fire amongst water. 


The stallion weaved his way around the crowds of drunken groups and the fumes of far too many drugs to name, a heavy musk lingering above all of their heads. With a cough he cleared his senses as he arrived to the guarded door, the bull snorting as he arrived, moving in front of the door with a growl.


"No appointments are being taken right now," he stated with a low rumble.


"Oh I have an appointment," the hooded stallion smiled warmly, walking forward to be nudged back by the bull.


"No visitors..." He growled again.


"I'm not here to visit, I'm on business," he said, not thinking anything of the aggressive nature of the bull.


"No pony can enter." 


"No pony? What about a gryphon? Or a dragon?" The stallion asked, oblivious to the fuming bull who's patience was running thin and the arrival of the armed gryphon behind him, with his rifle drawn and held firmly as he leaned back on his hind paws.


"Not anything or anyone!" He clarified with a bark, taking a step forward. "I suggest you leave."


"Thank you for your suggestion, but I'm here on business," he said once again.


"Alright, get him out of here!" He barked at the gryphon who approached with his rifle aimed at the stallion. 


As the gryphon approached, the stallion spun round and pushed the rifle away from himself, a few reaction shots cracked against the wall. With a heavy push he smacked the butt of the rifle into the gryphons beak, sending him stumbling back.


The bull had ducked as the shots hit the wall next to him before he rose and drew a sidearm which was quickly smacked away by the stallions rifle, the barrel of the gun soon forced into the Bulls throat as he pinned him to the wall. 


"I have business," he repeated with a much colder tone, the gryphon stumbling up, holding his beak painfully as many of the relaxing and pleasure taking groups stared over at the scene; the music had stopped and all had a hoof or claw on their sidearms, the light click of their safeties flicking off as they all began aiming their weapons in whatever direction they could.


The bull glared at him, keeping still as the rifle loosened from his throat. "I can't let you-" he began before being swiftly cut off by the intercom behind him.


"Let him in," the male voice rung out in a crackled tone.


"Boss?" The bull asked.


"I said let him innnnn," the voice sang.


The rifle lowered and he threw it to the ground as the bull glared before stepping away from the door and letting the stallion to pass through.


"Thank you," he said with a casual tone, as if he had just spoken to a receptionist, waving at the crowd of armed guests who reluctantly holstered their weapons and began their previous activities.


Pushing through the metal cast door he smiled, lowering his hood as he passed through a narrow hallway, the natural thud of the music had begun to play as he left the scene. The door clunked to a close behind him as he approached the end of the hallway, passing into a similar dome shaped room.


The room, like the other had booths, but was instead a square and held no tables or curtains but instead large arrays of cushions from every corner of the Federation: the gold threaded Crimson fronts of the dragons, the purple and blue faded backs of the bat ponies, and the abstract twirls of the zebra colonies... All lay around with ponies dressed in suits of black and dragons that breathed over a variation of a chess game. A gryphon sat amongst the cushions with several mares surrounding him, all puffing out thick streams of smoke as he admired them with a hungry lust.


The pair were small steps from the hallway that lead to a flat plateau of metal and neon blue coloured lights, a fire pit sat in the centre, burning with hot embers, with another set of steps past that, leading up to a throne of cushioned stone, light beaming down from above.


Approaching, the many eyes of those in the booths glanced over him, the sight of a dragon by the throne peaked his interest, staring at him with curious abandon. 


A zebra stallion sat upon the throne, laying across it with his hind hooves resting on the arm as he admired a bottle of wine that swirled in its bottle. His stripes lay as they should but began to become jagged and zig zagged their way across the lower part of his body, his flank was adorned with a jagged circle with a flowing triangle in the centre. A small blackened waist coat lay stuck to his upper body, a small bowler hat atop his striped mane. His eyes stared with a melancholic blue, his face adorned with black paint around his eyes, mimicking that of a Raccoon. 


"The fact that I have no clue who you are or where you come from is, in itself a maddening mystery," the stallion said with a smirk, glancing over at the stallion, sitting upright and leaning forward with a crazed twinkle in his eyes. "And I know everyone, everywhere," he whispered with a raised brow. 


"Raccoon I take it?" The stallion presumed as he stepped forward and into the light. His coat was a Prussian blue which made his whitened mane stand out rather abruptly, his emerald green eyes looked up at the Zebra with polite courtesy. 


"Hmmmm..." He hummed, rolling upside down with his head hanging off the throne, looking at him inverted. "So far you have more information than I do... That either makes you my enemy or my new best friend," he said.


"I still have an unanswered question." 


"And I still require recompense for information," the Zebra smiled wickedly. "I am the Raccoon you speak of," he confirmed before rolling off the seat and falling to his hooves, approaching with a light saunter. "And whom might you be?" 


With a polite nod and a smile he turned to face Raccoon. "I am Dr Bright, advanced AI and psychology," he said with a humbled tone.


"Ooooh!" Racoon cooed, "a shrink," he mocked with a cackle, moving back to his throne and sitting down upon it once more, taking a swig of wine, holding up his hoof to tell him to wait. With a satisfied sigh he licked his lips and leaned forward once more. "And what brings you to my court, shrink?" 


"If it pleases you, I'd prefer to speak in private," Bright requested.


There was a light snicker that rolled around the walls, Bright raised his brow and glanced around in confusion. "If we did that, there's a chance you could kill me, or put an... Advanced AI... In my place," Raccoon giggled, bobbing his head as he spoke.


"Why would I do that?" Bright asked obliviously.


With another chuckle Raccoon sat back and sighed, "I'm a hated individual, anyone could've hired you to kill me."


"I don't hate you, I've just met you," Bright continued with a confused expression upon his face.


Raccoon's smile faded in a tiresome effort. "Either you tell me why you enter my haven, assault my guards and waste my time... Or you leave," he said in the most serious tone he could muster.


Glancing round at the many guests in the court that sat in their cushioned paradises, all eyes upon him. The dragon by Raccoon's throne had stood up and began to eye him up dangerously. 


"I've come too far to just turn and leave," Bright conceded at his words. "I need to escape into UEF space."


A heavy laugh immediately erupted in the room, even the dragon smirked as Raccoon stared with a fierce concentration. Raising his hoof, the laughter dissipated immediately. "Into?... You want to go into UEF space?" He asked, double checking he heard correctly by scratching his blackened ears carefully.


"Yes, is that a problem?"


"No... Merely an unusual request," he said with a courteous smile before standing once more, scratching his chin slowly. 


"I can pay whatever price you ask," Bright clarified, trying to win him over.


"Payment isn't the issue," Raccoon explained. "Getting out of UEF space is easy; we have a routine and a protocol... The UEF only chases you for so long before they reach unchartered territories and turn around. What are you running from? There's nothing beyond the territories."


"I'm afraid that you are wrong," Bright said, his polite smile had faded to a crooked frown.


A brief silence filled the room as Raccoon merely stared down at him. "You claim to have more information than I do?" 


"No, I merely know that you shouldn't be taking ponies out of UEF territories... You need to be bringing them back in."

> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a heavy thunk Duke mashed his forehead against the circular door frame that led to the kitchen. Clenching his eyes shut, he breathed deep, holding his weakened self as he wobbled awkwardly. The lights seemed blinding to the post inebriated stallion, his mouth feeling like coarse sandpaper and his tongue lingering with the toxic fumes of alcohol.


"Morning," Cain mumbled out from one of the booths, looking down at a silver data pad lying next to a bowl of what appeared to be muesli and fruit.


"Shush," Duke whispered back, taking a few cautious steps down the stairs before trying to wipe away the tired look in his eyes. 


"I bet you feel awful," he piped again with a southern grin as he chewed down on his meal.


"Mmmm," Duke groaned back, "you're not helping."


"Only tryin’ to get you to stop drinking," he shrugged as he took another spoonful of his breakfast.


"What do I have to do to get you to stop talking?" He asked with a rhetoric mumble. Dragging his hooves forward he went to the kitchen and began rummaging around for food and water.


"On the table," Cain called out, keeping his eyes on the pad as he read. 


Peeking over the bench top he saw a clear bottle of water, a tablet and a waiting bowl of cereal. "Wow," he mumbled as he closed the bench doors, "almost like Presidio," he smirked. 


"I'm not cooking you a full three course breakfast." 


"I'm not sleeping with you so I wouldn't expect you to," Duke grinned as he threw back the tablet and gulped down the water.


"You flatter yourself too much," Cain said with a roll of his eyes, glancing up for only a moment.


Duke grabbed his bowl and doused it in milk before slowly dredging over to the same table and falling into the seat with a light sigh. Cain didn't even glance at him, his focus remaining down.


"What're you reading?" Duke asked, "I thought you country folk didn't do that sorta thang," Duke chuckled, mimicking a terrible rendition of Cain.


"I," he began strongly, ignoring his comment and looking up at him, "am reading what I believe to be Presidio's newest assignment."


Duke smirked and raised his brow, taking long sips of water from his bottle. "And what is Sid up to these days?"


"Twelve wounded, one missing after devastating attack on luxury space liner," he said with a deadpan gaze. 


"Only wounded?" Duke asked with amazement, biting into the cereal below, failing to use any from of cutlery. 


"Thankfully," Cain sighed with a shake of his head.


"Who was the poor sucker that is missing?"


"Some Vaporian bureaucrat."


"Just the usual contract from Raccoon then," Duke chuckled before continuing to munch on his cereal lazily, his muzzle burying itself into the slosh of milk. 


"Would you like a spoon?" Cain asked with a disappointed rise of his eyebrows. 


"Nope," he slurped with a smirk, looking up at him as milk dribbled it's way down his chin.


"It's not an attractive look to eat like that," Cain continued to judge, looking back down to his pad.


"Presidio thinks it's attractive when I'm eating h-" Duke was swiftly cut off by the unsatisfied whir of the ships engine slowing down, the lights flickering off.


"God dammit, Cal!" Duke yelled as he pushed his bowl away.


"It's not her fault that this rust bucket is acting up," he remained stoic, still reading the glowing pad. 


"Hey! The old girl still flies doesn't she?" And with a slow grind the engine began to spin once more, the lights snapping back on with a hateful buzz. "See?!" Duke announced, gesturing to the lights above him.


As quickly as his smile had appeared, it vanished once more as the lights cracked off and the engine came to a screeching halt, the ship groaning painfully as everything switched off.


"You were saying?" Cain asked with a a smug smirk. 


"Cmon, she was gutted the moment I got her," Duke retorted, getting up and making his way towards the hallway.


"Cal will fix it don't worry,"


Once again the engine started up again and the lights hummed back to life. 


"If she keeps this up she'll blow the power," Duke sighed as he walked off down the hallway. 


"She knows more than you do about it!" Cain called after him before he chuckled. 


Attempting to swallow a light anxiety, Duke moved on quickly, beginning to trot briskly as the power failed once again. "Caaalllll!" Duke called out nervously.


Turning the corner he arrived at the large double sliding doors which led to the engine room. The power whirred up and immediately failed before a large bang echoed from inside. With a fearful jump he began to force the doors open, letting billows of steam and smoke come spewing out from within. A vast heat followed and the coughing form of Cal came stumbling out with a flashlight around her neck.


"Cal! Are you alright?" He asked quickly leaning down to her level, greeted by the goggled and bandana clad face of Cal. 


"YoU diDn't knoCk!" Cal complained with a cough, removing her face protection to reveal the oil, grease and dirt upon her face. 


"I heard a bang! I thought you were hurt."


"I HeAr banGs frOm yoUr room All thE time! I sTill knock," she complained, stomping her hooves in frustration.


He closed his eyes and sighed at the poor innocence of the filly. "You're right, I'm sorry, this is your room... Now, care to explain what happened?"


"PoWer sUrge, seVeral Of tHem," she coughed, wiping her face with the cloth hanging round her neck.


"I see..." He mumbled as he watched the steam and smoke slowly thin out to show the smoking bulb of an engine inside, it's usual spinning form had ceased. "Is there any damage?" 


"Burnt oUt the MaiN genErator, the BackUp refUses to stArt," she said with minor frustration, "we hAve auXiliarY oNly." 


"And how much is that?" Duke asked with a sigh, the lack of urgency in the filly was putting him on edge.


"Two HoUrs oN minimum Usage," she said, glancing back at the engine and pulling a small wrench from her front pocket.


With a sigh Duke sat and rubbed his forehead. "So... No lights, computers and gravity?"


"Mmhmm," she confirmed with a mechanical buzz, scampering back inside to the three breakers on the far wall labelled 'Main', 'backup' and 'auxiliary'.


With a thud she flicked the main and backup power off with little effort. "ThE capAcitors will kEep grAvity onlIne foR now while I dO repairs," Cal explained, flicking her goggles down with an excited grin. She only ever seemed interested in machines that are broken or falling apart, the ship alone would collapse without her inside.


"How long will repairs take? We're on the edge of Federation space and I'm not sure if I should be worried about pirates or patrols," Duke mumbled with a light shudder.


"I neEd to chEck tHe damage first," she said as she wheeled around and began to remove panels and unscrew bolts with ease.


"Alright, come tell me when you know," he tapped the wall with a courteous smile, accepting the formal salute that the filly shot back at him. 


"Aye aYe," she giggled. 


*


Oxygen supply: 100%
Time elapsed: 1 hour 12 minutes


"So we still have enough power left in the capacitors to keep gravity and life support running for the next hour," Cain drawled as he tapped a stylus at his tablet of information and calculations, completely unbecoming of somepony with his accent.


One of the many rotunda dining areas within the mess hall was scattered with loose paper, dotted with ship schematics and half filled glasses of whiskey.


"Yes, I'm aware, but what I want to know is if! And it's a big if, we ran out of power, how much oxygen would we have," Duke asked.


"Well with the oxygen that is currently surrounding us and assuming we all combined breathe 21 litres a minute... We're looking at around 40 to 45 days of oxygen."


"So we don't need to worry about that. What about food and water?" 


"Rationed properly we'll last about the same time, what I'm concerned about is heat," Cain sighed, lifting a glass of barrel coloured whiskey and swigging it back gently. 


"If we keep drinking then we won't get cold," Duke suggested with a smirk, filling Cain's glass up.


"Funny, but without proper heating, this place will be colder than the crystal empire wastes before we know it."


"So our options are, hypothermia... If we get round that then we have dehydration and starvation, and if not that we have hypoxia and eventual asphyxiation... Assuming nothing else goes wrong... Lovely," he sighed, brushing back his brown mane stressfully.


"We have time," Cain reassured him lazily, watching Cal stumble her way through into the mess, covered in more oil and soot than before, holstering a wrench into her tool belt, mingling with other metallic tools.


"Well, work on our heating problem," Duke said before glancing back at the waiting filly with a disgruntled frown on her face.  "Please tell me you have some good news," he begged silently.


"WeLl the EnGine is fiNe," she began, which caused Duke to give an stressed exhale. "BuT sevEral fusEs have bloWn and paRts have meLted." 


"Cause? How long will it take to repair?" Duke asked periodically, taking mental notes.


"No caUse yeT. I'm GOing to haVe to maKe a HeaP of new PaRTs," she said, raising her eyebrows at a few of her vocal malfunctions. 


"How long?" He asked again.


"EigHt hOurs," she sighed, fiddling with the tool belt around her.


Duke closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, holding the news in for a few moments before exhaling and nodding. "Get straight to it then."


With another lazy salute she trotted off, pulling out one of her many tools as she went.


"I need another drink," he sighed as he fumbled for the bottle.


Cal soon made it back to engineering and moved through the half open doors, sighing as she looked at the mess of it.


The room mainly consisted of the large bulbous engine which spun within its brow metallic casing, glowing with an iridescent orange, but had since ceased. Her desk sat in the corner, with wall mounted lamps and magnifying glasses, staring down at useless parts and scrap metal that had been twisted and reformed to make small animals that either sat upon her desk or hovered from the ceiling, attached by simple thread.


A large net hung far above the engine, with small rope bridges leading to the many vents around the room, the main net holding pillows and several blankets. A common phenomena amongst ships was gravity dead zones, gaps and power failures in the gravity plating due to intense power or extreme acceleration, causing gravity in that zone to drop drastically... All which could be narrowed to the engine room. 


The room however did act as Cals room, workshop and her own fantasy land. Clothes draped themselves over equipment and controls whilst tools sat idly in pencil cases and old ceramic cups.


Making her way under the drapes of thick cables and past a few absent chairs, she slipped the goggles that dangled on her one ear back over her eyes before unhinging a electric screw driver from her belt, clambering over loose parts before grinning at the broken power generator, the air still stinking of burnt circuits. 


Tying her mane up in a taught pony tail with a hair tie made with old wires, she knelt down and began to unscrew the front panel of the generator with ease, staring with fierce concentration as she lodged it off with a heavy thunk.


Her grin soon turned into a sour frown as she stared into the melted mockery of circuits and wires, like a blatant insult, a mockery of what she used to be able to call 'her work'.


She groaned in dissatisfaction as she examined the surface damage of it all, removing a pair of wire cutters from her hefty tool belt, cutting away the broken and useless wires, pulling out the old circuit boards and capacitors that had once powered the ship.


"GroSs," she mumbled, tossing a smouldered capacitor behind her, clattering against the floor.


The more she gutted out of the ship, the more her frown grew. Examining every part to see if it was salvageable, her hope began to die as some of her favourite home made parts had been made to fizzle and die. Each part had the manufacturers insignia etched onto its side, most had been melted with other metals but a few stood standing. The simple 'W' of Wayland engineering, the more intricate designs of the CMC technology group and the Royal insignia of the federation all stood testament to their quality...


"All crAp," Cal sighed.



Pulling out her own homemade parts, all labelled with a yellow smiley face, she grinned once more. The damage seemed small to her own, cased and protected parts, only the few and vulnerable were left broken. 


After gutting most of the generator, her hoof grazed a warm component. Immediately she drew it back reactively. After a few moments of fumbling, she pulled out long hoof gloves before reaching tentatively back inside.


It was warm to the touch, not scolding... But it buzzed gently against her hoof. Putting all her tools down, she squeezed into the tight space of the empty generator and flipped onto her back to view the object.


Furrowing her brows she stared in confusion. "WhaT thE," her mechanical voice droned. The device itself was seemingly advanced compared to all her other components... This one was a pristine white and appeared undamaged from the surges. A small circular disk that had clamped it's way onto the top of the generator. 


A circle with three arrows pointing inwards sat upon its face, a larger jagged ring lay around the insignia of the device. Bringing her hooves up she gripped it's sides and began to pull gently. 


The device seemed to vibrate more and more the harder she pulled. The lights soon began to flicker and her nearby electronic devices began to whir unhappily, building up a scary amount of charge. 


Unaware of the flickering lights she gave the device one more heavy tug and it snapped out of its position with a dissatisfied whir, several lights cracking and shattering at the sudden dissipation of energy. Pulling the device close to her, she flung her head back onto the metal floor below her with a heavy thud, her ears ringing violently in response


A foul feeling soon filled her stomach as she clutched the device to her chest, looking outside of the generator casing to see her belongings and other scraps began to gently drift in their spots as the ship was illuminated in a cold darkness, the brief twinkling of stars at the far window was the only light given. 


"WhaT juSt hapPened?" She asked no one with a groan, slipping herself out from the casing with ease, drifting and floating with the remaining power leaving the gravity plates and lights. 


With a hoof held to the back of her head, tears filled her eyes as the dull aching pain filled her sense, the warm silk feeling of blood covering her hoof. "DuuuuUkE!"


*




Oxygen supply: 99.97%
Time elapsed: 1 hour 55 minutes
Temperature: 25 Degrees Celsius 


"You'll live," Duke announced as he finished wiping the back of Cals head of blood. "It was just a bump." He moved the small electric lamp away, letting it hover slowly with the group.


"My heaD huRts though," Cal complained.


With a chuckle he let the rag float away in front of him. "That's what happens when you're not careful," he tutted.


"YeAh... I'm soRry," she sighed, looking at the many bottles and dirty bits of cutlery that floated around.


"It's alright... Pay me back by getting those mag boots for us," Duke smirked, ruffling her mane gently.


"AyE aye," she sighed tiredly, grabbing onto the nearby wall and pushing off, letting herself glide away and out of the mess.


"She's complicated things," Cain said as he collected the mess that floated and attempted to secure it. 


"It wasn't her fault, I would've removed the device she found as well," Duke said with a glare towards him.


"You trust her knowledge of the ship that much?"


"She knows every part and how it works Cain," Duke growled, turning to him as they both floated around the darkened ship. "She could rebuild the damn thing from the ground up, I trust her... Frankly I get scared when she finds a part she doesn't understand," Duke explained to the large desert maned stallion. 


Cain nodded and held up his hooves in submission, "I'm just trying to tell you we're in a difficult spot," he mumbled to Duke.


With a deep breath he averted his glare away. "I can see that Cain, I'm not blind. Now tell me you have a plan to make our heat last a bit longer," he snapped.


"We have our space blankets, if we produce more heat then we could last longer but we would consume more water which in turn uses more oxygen," Cain explained.


"Can't we just light a fire?!" Duke asked angrily, stressfully rubbing his head. 


"Carbon monoxide poisoning, we'd be dead even quicker."


"Fuck.... Fuck!" Duke yelled, Cal trotted through with the several pairs of magnetic boots in tow, her own clinging to the ground.


"LanGuage!" She reminded him. 


"Sorry!... Sorry,' he sighed, taking heavy breaths. 


"Thanks Cal," Cain said as he grabbed his set of boots and began to pull them over his hooves. "Duke was getting a bit scratchy."


"You know how I am with spacial power failures," Duke reminded him with a cough. 


"Cal isn't scared, she can solve this," Cain retorted.


"Are you comparing me to a child!?" Duke yelled back, snatching his boots from Cal, causing her to jump back with shock. 


Cain glared at him and turned his boots on, his body sinking to the floor and his boots clinging tightly. "This isn't the time to panic Duke," he said, pulling Cal a bit closer to himself, who stared up at Duke with light fear in her eyes. "You're putting us on edge, alright," Cain said, speaking in a much softer tone.


"I..." Duke began, looking down at Cals scared eyes. "I think I should rest for a bit."


"That might be best," Cain agreed. "We'll get you if we need you." 


With a quiet nod Duke began to push off from the wall, not bothering with his boots anymore.


As he floated away and down the hall, Cain let out a stressed sigh and sat down in one the seats again, plucking his pad from the air. 


"WhAt w-waS thAt abOut?" Cal asked with a light stutter. 


"It's a long story," he stressed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. 


"You KnoW I LoVe stoRies," she said with a small smile, clambering up onto the seat.


"This isn't suitable right now," he said, staring at his pad as if plagued with writers block. 


"Is DuKe sCared we MigHt diE," she asked innocently, cocking her head at him.


With a chuckle he glanced to her. "Duke has other ideas for how he wants to die... He doesn't like this one." 


"How DoEs hE want To die?" She asked, pressing the morbid conversation on.


"With a belly full of whiskey most likely," Cain sighed, tapping the pad against the table. "Cmon... Maybe you can help me."


"What with?" She asked with curious enthusiasm, looking to the glowing pad. 


"You remember how we went to Avaria to deliver all of those boxes?"


"It wAs so cOld tHat I haD to pUt on my PuffY jacKet," she said with a shudder. "I didn't like it."


"We all hated it," he chuckled. "It's gonna get cold in the ship with no power... Really cold," he said with a pained sigh. 


"I juSt need to gEt the GenerAtor worKing and wE shoulD be fine!" Cal piped up with cheer.


"Yes I know... But up to that point, how can we save our heat?" He asked, "do you have any gadgets that could do that?" 


"A fiRe?" She asked.


"That won't work sadly," he smiled.


"UhHHhhh.... BlaNkets?"


"That'll work for a short while, but can we make heat somehow?"


She sat in thought, staring at the table with a fierce concentration. "CloSe the Louvers... Get tHe radioisoTope heaTers in," she said with a brief sense of skepticism.


Cain fell silent before he muttered, "Son of a bitch," he chuckled.


"WhAt?" She asked.


"You may have gotten onto something," he said with light excitement, pulling the tablet closer and scrawling on it. "Keep working on the generator... Cause if this doesn't work we're going to need it up and running as soon as possible."


"On iT," she nodded, slipping off and clunking to the floor with her boots. 


"Remind me to buy you a milkshake if this works!" He called as she made her arduous walk back to engineering.


*


Oxygen supply: 99.86%
Time elapsed: 3 hours 0 minutes
Temperature: 19 Degrees Celsius 



"We have more than enough oxygen Duke," Cain sighed as he watched him swig back a large helping of whisky, before letting the bottle float around idly. 


"Perfect! I'm just happy to freeze my balls off first then," he retorted angrily, before swatting a bubble of liquid away. 


They had relocated to the ships underbelly... It acted as their storage area, but was originally designed to hold medium sized military vehicles. Duke watched over the railing above down at Cain who had put together a set of blackened cases, all wired together. The room was illuminated by a few lone construction lights, running on simple batteries which hung tethered to Cain.


"That's why I called you down here Duke," he said with a smile, glancing up at him. "I may have found a way to extend our heat supply."


"And that involves radioactive decay and potential death?" He asked, stumbling and making his careful way down the stairs. 


"Yes it does."


Grumbling, he leaned on the railing right as the stairs met the floor, his eyes lazily scanning the heating units. "Where'd you rip those from?" He asked with a heavy sigh.


"Cal and I tore them from the escape pods," he said with a smirk. "Yes we'll put them back," he stated as he met Dukes disapproving glare.  


"So where are we taking them, we can't heat the whole ship with those," Duke pointed out.


"Engineering, that's where we're going to need it the most," Cain said as he nudged the radioisotope heater towards him, letting it glide and nudge against his now outstretched hoof. 


"Alright," he sighed in defeat, pulling the joint heaters with him. "This might work," he said.


"I know it will work, you need to stop worrying," 


"It's my job to worry," he grumbled as he ascended the stairs with a light wobble.


"You scared Cal a lot by doing that though," Cain pointed out as he began to follow. 


"That's because it's a long and painful death to suffocate... Surrounded by nothing but metal walls."


"That was a long time ago Duke," Cain sighed.


"Yet I was the only one that lived!" He yelled out in outburst once more, still making his way up the stairs.


“The cries of the dead are terrible indeed; you should try not to hear them," Cain recited.


"Raccoon was always pretty with his words," Duke muttered. "It's not their cries I'm haunted by, but the writhing silence they endured as our ship was gutted." 


"So let's make sure you don't see that again then," Cain puffed as they reached the top of the stairs, helping Duke pull the radioactive heaters along and into the winding corridors of the ship.


"Yeah, alright," he silently stated, keeping his eyes forward as they moved on. 


It was odd seeing the ship in such a lifeless state, the corridors were darkened with the light twinkle of distant stars, whilst all their personal belonging hovered and bobbed around uselessly, everything that gave the ship character floated with disbelief and horror.


Only the tethered construction lights they pulled behind them lit the stuttered mess of the hallways they moved through. The gentle buzz of a welder and the gentle smell of melting metal greeted them as they approached the large double doors of engineering once again.


Entering the engine room they found Cal sitting at her metal workbench, using a mounted soldering iron connected to mechanical arms, building new parts, her rounded and tinted goggles protected her eyes from the gentle sparks illuminating the darkened parts of the room.


"Did iT work?" Cal asked curiously, still working on her devices. 


"They're still working if that's what you mean, still producing heat," Cain smiled, setting them down to the floor. 


"How's it going?" Duke asked with a cough, waving some smoke away as he approached, staring down at the set of screws and parts she was making. 


"It's gOing sOmewHere," she said with a smirk. "We'll haVe poWer soOn enoUgh."


"How soon is soon enough?"


"NervOus?" She asked with a raised brow, glancing back at him.


"Cal," Cain warned as he strapped the heaters into the overhanging net to tether it. 


"It's alright Cain... Yeah, I'm nervous," he admitted with a sigh.


"So am I," Cal smiled.


"Gods, I'm being comforted by an 8 year old," Duke muttered.


"8 anD a hAlf!" Cal argued back. "NoW shuSh and HeLp me," she said, gesturing to two parts she was holding together.


Duke swiftly moved over and held the parts tight as she began to solder it. "I'm going to look around for anything else that we could use for heat," Cain said, smiling at the two. "How soon can we expect power Cal?"


"20 hoUrs," she said.


"Alright, I'll be back soon." Cain said as he got up and left, his boots clunking heavily across the dimly lit ground, pulling along one of the lights with him.


"Bring me more whiskey!" Duke called back to him, "I left mine back in the hangar," he laughed.


"You're drunk enough as is," Cain said as he left through the doors. 


"But I'm warm!" He retorted. "Bah, wanker." He sighed as he heard no reply.


"LanGuage," she mumbled to him with a mechanical squeak. 


"Sorry," he muttered, knowing full well he'd probably swear again. "Did you get a chance to look at the device you pulled?" He asked.


"Yes," she confirmed, gesturing to the split and disassembled device. "It's hOw I'm rePairing moSt of the GenerAtor."


"What was it meant to do?" He asked, picking the husk of a device up.


"It wAs theRe to DraiN poWer upOn acTivation," she said with a grunted mutter. 


"Sabotage? How long has it been there? Do we have an idea of who planted it?" 


"It's beEn there For aBout 3 monthS, judgIng by The amOunt of pAint iT stRipped," she said, sliding the current part away before pulling several useless bits of scrap towards her. "CanDy CaiN and I cOuldn't figuRe it Out, not Even tHe manuFacturer symbol gAve us clUes." 


"I'll check with Raccoon, I'm sure he has some dirt on this," Duke mumbled, looking down at the insignia once more, the blackened circle with the three arrows pointed at its centre made him frown. 


"RaccoOn haS diRt on EverYthing," Cal giggled.


"Even you," Duke laughed, ruffling her greased mane once more. 


"He WishEs," she stuck her tongue at back.


The heavy trodden footsteps made their ears perk as Cain ran as fast as he could in a zero g environment. "Cain, what's-" he began before Cain interrupted immediately with a deadly fear in his eyes. 


"We're about to decompre-" was all he got out before a sickening explosion shuddered through the ship and a sharp whistling made Dukes heart sink as he felt the air around him pull him towards the door, his lungs straining before he let the air out with a winded sigh. 


"Well fuck," he thought as his boots unhinged and he smashed against the half open door. 


*


Oxygen supply: 2% ***CRITICAL***
Time elapsed: 4 hours 0 minutes
Temperature: 2 Degrees Celsius


Breathing out slow steady breaths was simple reminder enough of the current temperature, thick foggy breath slowly spilled out and dissipated into the the remaining air they had left. Clad in blankets and clinging to the small construction lights that flickered on and off, the heaters sat nearby, letting off simple waves of heat.



Shivering heavily, Duke watched Cal slowly fiddle around inside the generator, Cain crouched nearby with the same fit of shudders. 


They had only just managed to close the door before their remaining oxygen had been ripped out from the room. Duke felt his lungs burning and his head pounding as he simply stared and breathed, simply trying to process the last few moments.


"G-gas leak" Cain said as Duke snapped back to reality, hugging the cold blanket closer to him, staring longingly at the heaters. "There w-was exposed cabling that o-obviously still powered by an o-off grid capacitor... It ignited w-when the gas reached the sparks it p-produced," Cain explained.


"I w-wAs gonNa w-wire thAt I-in todaY," Cal stuttered with a shudder.


Cain gave her a slow hug whilst she worked. "It's n-not you fault s-sweet pea," he panted, trying to keep warm.


"W-we can get t-through this," Duke shuddered out, slowly shifting his way over, watching his breath float away. "W-we have 25 h-hours left," Duke smiled.


"By M-my last count," Cain reminded him, passing Cal another one of her parts. 


"Y-your count is b-better than mine," he laughed, sitting down by Cal and peering inside. 


Loose wires hung bare as she slowly wired them in, soldering them to several components, the battery for the solder floated and bobbed against the steel casing of the generator, letting out a soft gong. 


"Y-you're a l-lot more chirpy," Cain noted, glancing at Duke.


"I-I thOughT y-you were s-scared," Cal said to Duke with a heavy pant, groaning at the current temperature. 


"F-freezing is a l-lot better than s-suffocating," he said with a tired smile. "Though I'd rather... D-die with a b-bottle," he laughed.


"B-behInd t-that graTing," Cal said, gesturing to a metal grating that act as a vent.


Slowly stumbling over and collapsing by it, he pulled the grating off with a heavy grunt, letting the grate float away and bump against the far wall. "You ch-cheeky little," he began as he pulled out half a drunken bottle of whiskey. 


"I-iT helpS m-me slEep," she retorted with a pant. 


"Oh I love you," he sighed with a smile.


"We're gonna h-have a t-talk after t-this," Cain grumbled as Duke took off the cap and took attempted to drink the zero gravity liquid, letting it float out before drinking it. 


"N-nice and chilled...." He sighed with a smack of his lips, pushing the bottle to Cain. 


"J-just the way we l-like it," he grinned, taking a sip of the droplets that flew out of the neck of the bottle. 


"C-can I haVe sOme?" Cal asked with a cough, pulling more parts into the generator. 


" As l-long as y-you keep it a s-secret," Cain said, passing the bottle to her and letting her take a healthy gulp of the drink. 


"She's l-learning bad habits," Duke commented with a rub of his eyes.


"Don't worry," Cain smiled. "She'll live."


"Well... I-I hope we all do," Duke chuckled.


"Here hEre," Cal piped up with a tired grin.


"Well... Uhh, I-I've had a g-good time with y-you all here y'know," Cain began, Duke immediately retorting with a laugh. 


"Pfft... Y-years of t-this hard s-stallion and y-you're g-getting soft on m-me now?" 


"J-just... I feel the h-hypothermia s-setting in, I d-don't want to p-pass out w-without s-saying something sentimental." 


"W-way ahead of you," Duke mumbled as he slowly keeled over and lay on his side, panting heavily, his eyes drooping slowly. "Y-you're an asshole... B-but I-I'm glad y-you s-stuck around." 


"Says y-you," Cain laughed back.


"W-will wE be F-found?" Cal asked as she fumbled for another part. 


"Maybe," Cain mumbled, watching Dukes eyes shut completely and his breathing begin to shallow. "C-Cal... D-Duke and I are gonna... Have a r-rest..." 


"O-okAy," she stuttered out to him with a cough.


"Finish t-that generator quick," he mumbled as his eyes closed. "F-fucking p-power stealing d-device, if only we h-had a p-power giving d-device," he slurred.


"L-lanGuage," she said back before she halted in her tracks and glanced back at him. "WaiT wHat?"


"Hmmm?" He mumbled out, on the border of consciousness. 


"T-the dEvice! Wh-what d-diD you say?"


"G-giving p-power device?" He mumbled to her. "It's... Stupid," he chuckled.


"Y-you'Re brilLiant!" She announced, clambering over him and snatching up the half dissected device and crouching over it, slipping it's torn out parts back in and clumsily forcing the wires back in. "C'moN," she muttered as she worked.


Clambering back over Cain, her teeth chattering together as she made the stagnated movement, she gripped onto the side of the generator, placing the device back in the same spot and soldering it back into place.


Crawling back into the generator, she made a jumbled job of wiring wires together, working faster and faster as her heart throbbed in her head. 


"P-pleAse," she whispered to herself, pressing the dull green button that sat atop the casing, hearing the device whir up and halt once more with a stuttered crackle. Glancing over to the breakers her failure was understood. Stumbling over she gripped the main breaker and flicked it upwards before tripping her way back over and hitting the casing with frustration, she pushed the button again, holding it whilst she peered back inside, watching the small LED's on the components flicker. 


With a heavy shudder the generator began to rattle and shake before the lights above began to flicker and buzz on with a sickening electrical gasp. Her monitor on the desk began to turn on and the heavy puff of the environmental controls coming online made her fall back onto her flanks with a sigh. 


Leaning back, she rested her head upon Cain’s side and closed her eyes momentarily. "N-neVer agAin..." She mumbled as the auxiliary power began to compensate for any lack of power. "NevEr agAin," she mumbled again before her vision went dark and the only sensation she could feel was the slow thud of her heart in her head.