1
The spaceship looked like an old, elongated submarine. No one knew its original color, but these days it gleamed in a “magnificent” rust-brown, a junkyard-metal texture covering every inch of its surface.
Even so, the last impression it gave was that of a wreck. Not only did the aerodynamic protrusions near the tail and the shape of the thrusters lend a sense of speed to its silhouette, but there, covering its entire nose as if rear-ended, was the symbol that inspired fear across the galaxy: a white-painted Jolly Roger, the skull grinning merrily above the crossed bones.
It made an impression, that was for sure.
Too bad it trembled beside the ship parked next to it.
Compared to the massive Tcharin battlecruiser, the Space Pirate Hilda looked anything but dangerous. Its blocky, sturdy appearance, the many blaster cannons along its hull, the missile ports... everything screamed next-gen military investment.
Luckily for the pirate, the cruiser wasn’t there with hostile intentions.
Far from it.
A few kilometers below the ships, the surface of a spherical asteroid shone under the light of its distant sun, the asteroid having been pulled into geostationary orbit around planet Tchar to serve as a strategic depot in the war against Zarin.
Pressurized military warehouses formed a regular pattern on its rocky face, the largest of them being the stage for the negotiation about to take place.
2
“I’d really like to know how these people name their planets,” said Hilda’s boots, the echo of her steps on the metal floor emphasizing the size of the warehouse. All around, the low hum of gravity enhancers was omnipresent. “Tchar, Zarin, Yurus... It’s like they slam their face on the keyboard and whatever comes out is the baby’s name!”
The pair of polished boots walking beside hers snorted a laugh.
“True. But in Zarin’s case, it’s an alien name, so maybe it makes sense to the Zarinian people.”
“Oh, but it has to make sense!” Hilda’s voice carried a mischievous grin. “They can’t slam their face on the keyboard. They don’t even have heads!”
The polished boots laughed again.
Hilda was dressed for the part, as every self-respecting pirate should do. She wore a black cap painted with a skull and crossbones, though in a carelessly stylish way. The symbol started on the plastic visor and ended on the front of the cap, painted at a carefully slanted angle. Paint drips completed its “rebellious” vibe—those and the thick white paint used for ship hulls, reinforcing the whole DIY look.
Over her shoulders hung a massive black jacket, also part of the branding. Golden spikes jutted out from the sleeves, the high collar, and the shoulders—these topped with enormous, cartoonish epaulettes. And on her back, painted on the flowing fabric, was... guess what?
Yes. Another Jolly Roger.
Huge and, of course, stylishly tilted and dripping with paint.
Beneath that outfit stood the woman herself:
Captain Hilda.
Clearly a hot android (the conscious type), she looked no older than 18—though her real age could be anything. From her red irises, faint streaks ran down her pale white cheeks like tear tracks, stopping at her chin. Her thick honey-colored hair was tied up in a bun, letting her ridiculously high collar (up to mid-ear) hug her nape.
From the neck down—aside from the jacket—her body was... how shall I put this?
Half-naked?
Hilda looked like a hyper-articulated anime action figure: slim, sleek, every body part a movable joint. But instead of plastic, she was made of semi-glossy black metal, accented by small yellow details—including the Honkay Co. logo. Her only “clothing” covering this pseudo-nudity was a pair of yellow harem pants tucked into her boots.
At her waist, a heat sword and a laser pistol swayed with each step.
Now, as for the figure beside her...
Hahasiah was similar but the opposite. If Hilda was the punk version of a soldier, Hahasiah was the goody-two-shoes version.
But a goody-two-shoes with a renegade twist.
Her dark gray uniform gleamed in perfect alignment, every leather piece polished to mirror finish. Her only “rebellious” touch came from...
Yes, exactly.
On her back—just like Hilda’s jacket—tilted and dripping with paint.
Hahasiah couldn’t resist.
She was now a pirate.
Still on the topic of opposites, while Hilda was black from the neck down, Hahasiah was dark gray from head to toe. Her skin matched her uniform, and her eyes—black sclera with glowing yellow irises—burned with intensity. More normal were her long, straight black hair cascading down her back like a veil swinging with each step.
The two stopped before a massive gate and waited for it to open automatically. The heavy doors slid apart with a pneumatic hiss, revealing not just the rest of the hangar, but three people waiting in the center of the enormous empty space.
The first was a robust man, in his fifties, wearing a uniform identical to Hahasiah’s—except for its sky-blue color and some extra details, like larger epaulettes and medals. Just as the Jolly Rogers revealed the criminal (and stylish) nature of the pirates, all those shiny badges revealed the man’s high rank: general. A position just below the supreme commander of Tchar’s troops. His thick gray mustache, furrowed brows, and the map of stern wrinkles across his face screamed a 110% military spirit.
Flanking him were two women. Two unusual women, to say the least. Instead of soldiers or other high-ranking officers, there was a kemono girl, about 18 years old, and a sharp-looking midnight-blue elf standing protectively behind her.
The girl, whose blonde mane reached halfway down her neck, sported small round lion-like ears atop her head and a long yellow tail. She looked like she’d come straight from school, judging by her lime-green pinafore dress, black Mary Janes, white socks, and a backpack so stuffed it was bursting at the seams, on the floor beside her.
On the other end of the fashion spectrum, the elf wore tactical gear—one could spot a knife and laser pistol on her body, along with a rifle slung over her back. Aside from her long pointed ears, her appearance was quite similar to Hahasiah’s: dark skin, black eyes with glowing irises, and long straight black hair, although hers was braided and tucked into a bulletproof vest.
She was a mercenary—most likely the girl’s bodyguard.
“Oh, come on…” Hahasiah muttered, her shoulders dropping.
“What happened?” Hilda glanced at her discreetly. “Do you know any of them?”
“Yes. That guy. He’s the general who sent me on the Zarin mission! His name’s Nádius, and he was one of the bastards who testified against me.”
“HmMm…” Hilda let out the sound of an older sibling hearing who bullied their little sister at school.
Across the room, as the gray-toned figure approached, General Nádius frowned in surprise and exclaimed:
“Major Hahasiah?!”
“The one and only, you piece of shit!” the dark gray woman growled as she and Hilda stopped in front of the trio, the pirate captain folding her articulated arms across her rigid chest and raising her chin.
The elf and the girl stared at the three, eyes slightly wide, caught off guard by the sudden tension.
Nádius, on the other hand, hardened his expression even more and shot back:
“I knew you were a coward, but I didn’t know you were also dishonorable!”
Hilda raised an eyebrow.
“Just a reminder: you’re the one hiring us, okay?”
Nádius’s look suggested he’d love to smash her with a sledgehammer.
“I’m dishonorable?!” Hahasiah raised her voice. “You sent me on a suicide mission and then blamed me! I told you that canyon was a meat grinder! I warned you that region was impossible to take, but you didn’t give a fuck!”
Nádius’s face twisted in rage, mustache and all, and he barked back:
“I received direct orders from the commander to attack Zarin at that location! I did what every soldier is trained to do: follow orders, not question them! But I guess you were never much of a soldier to begin with, were you?” he said, looking her up and down with scorn.
Hahasiah stepped forward, baring her long sharp canines. Her voice came out low and lethal, through clenched teeth:
“I’d like to see if it were your ass on the line! I lost my entire unit because of you, you son of a bitch! I lost a battalion of over a thousand men, all because that psychopath wants to conquer Zarin at any cost and no one dares oppose him! I spoke out, and you threatened me with a court-martial! And you, with all your contacts and influence, didn’t lift a damn finger! All those names on the coffins without bodies are your responsibility, asshole! I—”
“You abandoned your men, Major Hahasiah!” Nádius almost shouted. “You left them to die!”
Hilda, who had been watching arms crossed (literally), raised her eyebrows as her friend bared her teeth in a murderous expression and quickly stepped between them.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” she said, gently pushing Hahasiah back. She turned to Nádius and added:
“No need to defend yourself, old man. We already figured out you needed a scapegoat to cover your ass, so take it down a notch and—”
“Don’t interfere, you talking toy, or—”
“—or we’ll walk away, and you can deal with that girl over there,” Hilda said calmly, nodding toward the lion-eared blonde, who, along with her bodyguard, looked deeply uncomfortable with the scene.
Seeing Nádius swallow his own words, Hilda threw in:
“Let’s cut the drama and get to the deal. You only said you needed an escort for your niece and threw some cash into our account as a show of trust. Now we need the rest. Where exactly are we delivering the cargo?”
“She’s not cargo,” Nádius growled through his teeth, and the mercenary silently narrowed her eyes in agreement. The girl, however, was too embarrassed to react. “She’s my grandniece. Show some respect. I’m removing her from Tchar at her parents’ request. I need her taken safely to Yurus, to meet a contact of mine.”
“Alright,” Hilda replied, arms crossed, legs slightly apart. “We need the exact location of the meeting point and another hundred thousand credits. The money you sent barely covers half the value of this job.”
Hahasiah knew Hilda had just bumped the price up, but said nothing. She fixed her glowing eyes on Nádius, expecting him to explode, but the general only replied:
“Fine. I’ll send you the rest.” His tone was sour and hesitant, but not nearly as furious as the pirates expected. “Just guarantee she gets there safely, no matter what!” he said with the firmness of someone who doesn’t trust the hired help.
Hilda frowned and asked:
“Why are you hiring us? Don’t you have anyone more… ‘trustworthy’... in your battalion who could handle this?”
The girl and the elf glanced sideways at Nádius.
“I can’t use one of our ships. Not now, with the planetary alignment forcing the route to Yurus to pass directly over Zarin. A military ship would be easily recognized and shot down, and a civilian one doesn’t have enough firepower. You attract less attention than we do and have decent weaponry—as well as your survival instincts to dodge attacks.”
Hilda snorted a laugh.
“Nice euphemism for calling us cowards.”
“Your words, not mine.”
“True. But here are my words: if there’s a coward here, it’s you. I wasn’t the one who sent a battalion to die and then blamed the only soldier who warned it would go to hell. Hahasiah is the best addition I’ve had in a long time and always will be a better officer than you’ll ever be. So if we ever meet again (God forbid), and you dare open your mouth to insult my friend, I’ll open your mouth with my blaster.” She patted the weapon. “Am I clear?”
Nádius lowered his tone and gritted out:
“Don’t threaten a general, girl. You don’t want this to get ugly.”
Hilda just tilted her head, raised an eyebrow, and let out:
“Really? Funny, because if I’m not mistaken, you Tcharins aren’t exactly in a position to waste resources chasing pirates.”
All eyes fell on Nádius, who, after a long moment, muttered bitterly:
“You don’t know anything.”
Hilda laughed.
“Maybe not. But the Zarinian troops do. You’d better watch your ass, because that girl will be safer with us than on your planet. Now come on, send the funds— the sooner we leave, the sooner we get there.”
Nádius clenched his lips but obeyed. He pulled a device with antennas from his belt, synced his phone to its signal, and transferred the money.
Hilda connected to the device as well, her eyes blinking briefly as her HUD confirmed the hundred thousand credits had landed in her account—along with a location link in the messaging app.
“Perfect. The elf’s coming too?”
“She is,” confirmed the general. “She’s my grandniece’s bodyguard.”
Hilda scanned the blue-skinned figure head to toe, narrowed her eyes slightly, then said:
“Alright, people, let’s go. Follow the leader!” She nodded toward the exit, and the girl shouldered her backpack, joining the elf and the pirates.
As soon as the four turned their backs to Nádius, Hilda raised a hand and called out without looking back:
“See you never, Mister Cowardly General! Don’t worry, the... uh... What’s your name, girl?”
“Me?” the lioness raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah. What do they call you?”
“Zaya.”
“Zaya will text you when we arrive.”
Nádius just clenched his jaw as he watched the four walk off and vanish behind the closing doors.
3
As the door shut behind them, Hilda said:
“Hasiah, radio the crew and ask them to set aside two beds. I don’t care how—flip a coin, draw straws, whatever. I just want two of them sleeping in the cargo hold tonight.”
“Understood,” she replied, pulling her radio from her belt.
Fun fact: hot androids sleep. That’s because they used to be alive, having had their minds transferred into a memory crystal—capable of replicating brain function so faithfully that it not only generates consciousness, but also reproduces certain functions, like sleep.
“Okay, girls, let’s go over introductions and ground rules. My name is Captain Hilda—yes, Captain is part of the name, and that’s how you’ll address me. This graphite-faced lady is my right hand, Hahasiah. If you need anything, talk to her. You’ll be staying with us on my ship, the Murder Cigar, confined to the crew quarters. Why confined? Because I’m mean? Also. But mostly because the ship is tight and I don’t want you wandering around getting in the crew’s way,” she said, glancing at them from under the brim of her cap. “Any questions?”
“Yes,” the elf said. “What about food and showers?”
“All of that will be handled in the quarters. Eating, bathing, sleeping, chatting... Oh, and no external communication. No social media, no food delivery apps, no calling your boyfriend…”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Zaya replied, sourly.
“Then your girlfriend. Think of yourselves as fancy prisoners. You’ll get the best comfort we can offer, but no free roaming. This isn’t an Airbnb.”
The elf simply nodded with the calm of someone who’d seen much worse, but Zaya didn’t look too thrilled.
When they reached the decompression chamber (basically a smaller section of the hangar), they found the outer door open and held in place by a film-type force field. A thin, flexible magical wall kept fast-moving molecules (like gases) from escaping, while allowing slow molecules to pass freely. In other words, cargo and people could enter and exit safely, while projectiles, high-speed vehicles, and gas would hit a wall as solid as steel.
Near the exit stood two combat mech suits, as rusty as the ship but no less imposing. They were bulky, each limb as thick as a tree trunk, making their silhouettes look stumpy despite being nearly three meters tall.
Hilda and Hahasiah gave mental commands, and the backs of the machines opened, lowering what looked like a jet stairway—only it had a seat installed in place of the steps.
“We’re taking these, and you’ll go via spectral drive,” Hilda announced as she reclined on the seat like she was at a dentist appointment. She and Hahasiah settled into the cushions already well-worn from use. “Just wait a second and you’ll be teleported.”
The suits sealed shut over them, and after a radio signal, Zaya and the bodyguard found themselves enveloped in dense, sooty black smoke—and then gone.
“Hey, Hasiah,” Hilda called over the radio once she was alone with her partner. Her suit stepped through the force field and descended the ramp to the rocky ground. Once outside the reinforced gravity field, the suit’s ten tons dropped to just 220 kilograms. “What did your vampiric senses pick up from that chat with the Cowardly General?”
“Which part?”
“The reason he hired us.”
The suits looked up at the ships docked against the dark sky, fired up their red mana thrusters, and began to levitate—faster and faster, like they were falling upward.
“I thought it was strange. While he didn’t tell the whole truth, he didn’t lie either. Like you said, we’re not exactly swimming in resources—we Tcharins, I mean. With the war eating up every ship, every soldier, every bullet, he really doesn’t have anyone else. But it’s not just that. There’s more to this.”
“Hm…” Hilda mused, thoughtful. She looked ahead through the neural link between her memory crystal and the cameras in the mech’s head, watching her ship draw closer. When they hit a certain speed, the engines shut off and they coasted forward on inertia alone. “What would make a jackass like that entrust his grandniece to a bunch of pirates? Not that we’re cruel or anything, but we don’t exactly have a saintly rep.”
“Exactly… I felt like they’re hiding something. But since we’re pirates, of course they’re only going to tell us what’s necessary for the job. The most likely reason is that the secret is to protect the girl from us.”
“Yeah… that makes sense. I just hope this ‘necessary’ doesn’t screw us over later…”
“Lets keep an eye out,” Hahasiah said.
“Yup…”
4
As the smoke dispersed, Zaya and the elf found themselves on a Y-shaped catwalk, built to wrap around what looked like a massive bombing hatch. But instead of bombs, what they saw were dozens of combat suits lined up side by side—two rows of fifteen units each, facing one another, all hanging by their backs like meat in a butcher shop.
Of the thirty, three were missing.
The grated-floor catwalk came from inside the ship, then split in two, with each branch running behind a row of suits. Overhead, a chaotic mess of pipes, lights, valves, and wires sprawled in every direction, just like you’d expect from a submarine. Zaya and the elf stood at the junction of the catwalk, surrounded by a few android pirates aiming their eyes toward the open hangar doors, awaiting their captain.
Two rust-colored dots gained definition against the surface of the asteroid, both growing larger with each passing second. Hilda and Hahasiah approached, and using their red mana thrusters, maneuvered and docked into their hooks with enviable precision.
They disembarked mid-conversation, and when Hilda noticed Zaya and the elf, she ordered:
“Panz, do me a favor. Take our guests to the crew quarters.”
“On it, Captain!” replied an android with spikes forming a mohawk and a single horizontal slit for an eye. “Girls. With me!” His head swiveled slightly, reinforcing the command.
Zaya and the elf were guided through cramped corridors and narrow staircases—always flanked by pipes and grated flooring—until they reached a heavy submarine-style door in the wall. They passed through and found themselves in a short, narrow hallway lined with padded sleeping niches built into the walls.
“Those are your beds,” Panz pointed. “Don’t leave unless you’re called.” Then he shut the door behind him.
Zaya and the elf looked at their new home for the next few hours, each wearing an expression completely different from the other.
5
Traveling through outer space requires folding it like fabric, so one can cross minutes, hours, or light-days in a matter of seconds. But to do that, the logic applied is the same as walking. Just like it’s impossible to cross kilometers in a single step, it’s impossible to travel interplanetary distances in one single jump. The solution is either to have long legs—in other words, a robust and powerful spectral engine—or to move step by step, from light-minute to light-minute, from light-hour to light-hour, until reaching the destination.
Since the current distance between Tchar and Yurus was 225 million kilometers, the trip wouldn’t even take an hour, considering the 13 light-minute jumps needed. However, with a rock called Zarin in the way, the journey would take 12 extra hours just for the detour to avoid orbital patrols.
6
Zaya stared out at space through the porthole beside her bed, her little lion ears drooping, discouraged. Neither they nor their owner could tell the difference between before and after diving through the black smoke. The girl knew the ship jumped roughly 18 million kilometers per leap, but the view was always the same—same stars, same scenery, same everything.
“Hey, Aladriael,” Zaya called, not sounding very enthusiastic, her tail gently thumping the mattress. They were alone in the quarters.
“Yes?” came the elf’s voice from the lower bunk.
“How do you stand this boredom?”
A short chuckle, then:
“Girl, this is a spa compared to what I’ve seen out there, trust me. With this war going on, if I were you, I’d savor every scrap of comfort I could get. The Zarinians are making real progress—we don’t know what’s going to happen before we reach Yurus.”
“Yeah, I know…” Zaya said with a bitter snort. “My dad really is a piece of shit…”
The metallic click of the door opening cut their conversation short and caught both their attention. When kemono and elf looked up, they saw Hilda enter and stop in the middle of the corridor, arms crossed and feet apart. She wasn’t wearing her jacket or cap anymore—just her yellow pants. Her hair now flowed loose down her back in a cascade of honey.
“Okay, so no one can accuse me later of running a ‘private prison’: we’re making a quick stop at a paint shop to pick up my suit, and then we’re hitting a wholesale depot for supplies. If you wanna stretch your legs, now’s your chance.”
Zaya’s face lit up and she sat upright on the mattress, but Aladriael narrowed her eyes.
“I assume we won’t be free to go wherever we want, right?”
“Of course not. You’re sticking with us. Wherever Hasiah and I go, you follow,” she said. And seeing the bodyguard’s face tense up, she added with a shrug:
“Unless you’d rather stay here.”
“No, we’ll go!” Zaya hopped down to the floor, her joy making Hilda smile. “Come on, Aladriael, let’s get out for a bit!” the girl beamed at her.
The elf looked like she was about to refuse, but in the face of such a bright smile, she pursed her lips and stood up like a sack of lead. She grabbed her rifle and sighed:
“Fine… let’s go…”
7
The space station looked like a stack of pancakes under a forcefield dome—each “pancake” a circular floor crammed with all kinds of shops, including a supply warehouse for starships and a paint workshop.
Around the edge of the “plate,” a few ships were docked with their noses poking through the forcefield film. At the base—like a waiter’s hand—were the artificial gravity generators and anti-spectral systems, preventing teleportation both from outside and between levels of the station.
Zaya jumped off the Murder Cigar expecting to see pirates pushing shopping carts around, but the reality was a letdown. Hahasiah and Hilda just handed a list of items to a werewolf employee at the counter, while robotic forklifts in the background loaded autonomous cargo carts with fuel-crystals and crate after crate of rations for their clients.
Seeing the girl visibly deflate—clearly expecting a more exciting outing—Hilda turned to the group as they left and asked:
“Want to grab lunch? I’ll pick up my suit after.”
“Fine by me,” Hahasiah nodded.
“And you two?” She looked at Zaya and Aladriael. “Hungry?”
“Oh, yeah!” Zaya answered, grinning from ear to ear, and Hilda chuckled at her enthusiasm.
“Alright, let’s go. But everyone pays their own way, okay?”
“You eat?” Aladriael furrowed her brow.
“Not me, but you do. I’m just tagging along.”
“Hm…” the elf muttered, clearly intrigued by the gesture.
8
Zaya’s mood picked up as they entered the station’s popular district. They rode escalators along the rim of the floor until they found themselves surrounded by stalls selling everything from clothes and food to android parts and electro-magical components. The market was fairly empty thanks to a local holiday, but that didn’t stop the girl from being completely enchanted.
Clouds of vapor rose here and there from the grated floor, fed by the pipes running underneath, until they dissolved into the ceiling full of outcroppings, more piping, and heavy-duty ventilation systems. Neon and plastic light signs lit up every corner, competing for attention in a chaotic color war. The whole place had an improvised, industrial vibe—metal pipes and iron panels welded or bolted together to support the structures. You could even spot salvaged spaceship parts repurposed into walls, counters, or entire kiosks.
“This place is awesome!” Zaya spun in place, delighted by that world of rust and neon.
Hilda and Hahasiah smiled. Aladriael, however, barked sternly:
“Don’t wander off, Zaya. Stay close to me. This is a pirate den.”
“Hey! That’s ‘piratephobia’ right there!” Hilda complained. “We’re shady, but we’re the good kind of shady!” Hahasiah and Zaya burst out laughing. “Okay, but seriously, this is a neutral zone. No stealing, no funny business, or people will literally cut you down.”
(note: in the original, Hilda makes a pun using the words "rum", the pirates bevarage, and "ruim", that means "bad" in Portuguese. So she said "we are 'rum' ('ruim', 'bad'), but we are good".)
“All the more reason for Zaya not to leave my side.” The elf’s face went hard. “I don’t want anyone slicing her up over a misunderstanding.”
“Relax. This place is chill—people even let you walk around armed!” Hilda patted her pistol and sword. “There are places that take everything from you at the entrance. Trust me—this station’s cool, Galadriel.”
The elf’s mouth twitched.
“It’s Aladriael.”
“Wasn't that what I said? Aladriel?”
“AladriAel!”
“Hm… Can I call you Aladra?”
“No, because I’ve never stolen anything,” said the elf with a smirk.
(note: "Aladra" sounds like "a ladra", meaning "the thief")
“Hehe. Fair. But what about Aladriel? Can I call you that?”
“No.”
“Humpf! Elves…” Hilda said with theatrical indignation, earning more laughter from Zaya and Hahasiah.
9
Panz was lounging comfortably in the command room chair, reading a comic on his tablet, feet up on the console, when the radar beeped a warning.
His artificial face turned toward the screen. A ship was approaching fast, and according to visual sensors, it was Zarinian.
Panz lowered his feet and leaned forward as he saw the ship releasing several smaller, unidentified objects.
“What the hell…?”
10
The layout of the stalls, booths, and kiosks followed the contour of the station, forming a wide labyrinthine disk whose circular clearing at the center held the food court—nearly empty today.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Aladriael asked from across the table, just before lifting a forkful of soy steak to her mouth.
“Sure,” Hahasiah replied, taking a swig from a bottle of blood.
“Why are you gray?”
Hilda, who already knew the answer, didn’t react, sat with her back and arms crossed. Zaya, on the other hand, looked at the former soldier with interest, her fork full of rice and beans frozen halfway to her mouth.
“Because I’m a spectral mage.”
Aladriael’s austere expression melted.
“Seriously? You channel ancestral spectral mana?!” Admiration seeped into her tone.
“Yeah. I can flow that color through my chakra points and cast spells. But it leaves my skin and eyes this color.”
“So you’re a vampire spectral mage?” the elf voiced Zaya’s surprise. Hilda smiled at the reaction—she’d gone through the same.
“No. I’m a spectral 'vampirangel'.”
Aladriael and Zaya’s eyes widened, and Hahasiah let out a snorted laugh.
“Yeah, I’m an angel who got bitten by a vampire…”
“What a mess!” Aladriael exclaimed, and Hahasiah smiled into her bottle.
“Wanna hear more?” Hilda leaned over the table with a mischievous grin, locking eyes with her friend.
“She’s a lesbian.”
“She is?!” Aladriael’s head snapped toward the vampirangel, her forehead furrowed. Zaya just took her bite of food.
“What the hell, Hilda?!” Hahasiah exclaimed, clearly annoyed, her face shocked. “You can’t just out someone like that!”
“Relax, Hasiah, calm down.” Hilda patted her uniformed wrist and leaned back in her chair. “I said it because Aladriael also likes women, and I’m betting she’s into you.”
“Me?!” the elf looked at the captain in disbelief. “Where did you get that from?”
“I noticed how you look at her.” She nodded toward Hahasiah. “You’re subtle, but I read the signs. And after I said she was a lesbian, you totally gave yourself away! Your eyes even sparkled. Didn’t they?”
“Damn it, Hilda, I already knew she was into me…” Hahasiah said, her voice low and wounded. “You didn’t need to out me like that.”
For the first time, the three of them saw the elf look away. And if it weren’t for her blue skin, she might have been blushing.
“Hasiah, listen to me. Actually, both of you, listen.” Hilda pointed her finger at each of them in turn. “Wanna tip? Cut the crap and just make out already. You’re clearly into each other—it’s all over your faces.” Hahasiah and Aladriael exchanged sheepish glances. “We’re gonna split up soon and probably never see each other again. And considering the kind of work we do, tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. Hasiah, I’m sorry if I was a bit of a jerk, but you and I have seen death up close more times than is healthy (you way more than me), so if there’s a chance for something, take it.”
She paused, then turned to the lioness sitting across the table. With a teasing grin, she added:
“Right, Zaya?” She winked, and unlike the elf, Zaya visibly blushed—so much so that food fell off her fork.
“If you want to make a move, kitten, go for it—I’m bi.” Hilda waggled her eyebrows and leaned back, fingers laced behind her head, a smug grin on her face. “‘I don’t have a boyfriend,’ hehe. I wonder why.”
Zaya stared at her rice and beans like they were the most fascinating thing in the universe, her cheeks red as ripe fruit, tail swishing behind her.
Aladriael, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate the flirt directed at her client. She was about to protest when Hilda suddenly went serious, sat up straight, and stared into nothing like she’d answered an urgent call.
“What is it, Panz?” A pause. “What?!” Her eyes widened. “The Zarinians launched what?!”
A silent flash of light from outside the station pierced the forcefield dome and streamed through the station’s tiers like lightning. In the next instant, all the lights went out, replaced by emergency lighting. Glowing blue orbs appeared floating across every floor, giving the food court a strangely romantic atmosphere—if not for the rising panic and the distant sounds of screams and gunfire.
Everyone in the food court immediately stood up from their chairs. Those who were armed raised their pistols, revolvers, or blasters. The elf grabbed Zaya by the shoulder and pulled her close.
“Hey—easy!”
“We’re heading back to your ship, Captain. Now!” Aladriael ordered, her black-sclera eyes scanning the blue-lit surroundings.
“I don’t usually take orders,” Hilda muttered as she checked the perimeter, “but that’s a damn good idea. Let’s go!” And they bolted toward the kiosks, diving into the maze of corridors in search of the escalators.
They pushed through the rows of stalls, and just as they reached the curve between the shops and the panoramic railing—the Zarinians emerged exactly at the escalator they’d planned to use.
They were all 1950s-style robots, complete with narrow waists, doll-like jointed legs, and corrugated tube arms holding massive blaster rifles. Sitting atop their shoulders, as a continuation of their torsos, were pill-shaped glass helmets full of water.
And floating inside each…
A blob of green slime.
The Zarinian.
There was no hesitation. Hahasiah, Hilda, and Aladriael all raised their weapons and...
PEWPEWPEWPEWPEWPEW…!
...the first Zarinian was dead before he could even aim.
The one right behind him, still protected by the floor, tossed a grenade toward the group. The girls’ eyes widened as they scrambled backward into the corridor, bracing for an explosion, but…
PAM! PFFSSSS…!
…only a white cloud of smoke hissed out from both sides of the device.
“Tear gas?” Hahasiah muttered, puzzled. She glanced toward Hilda from behind a kiosk counter, her friend hiding on a clothing stand just ahead. Hilda returned the same confused look for a beat before snapping:
“Alright, Hasiah—magic up some cover! Let’s go!” She turned toward the elf and the girl, who were stuffed into a rack of clothes, coughing, eyes watering, noses red. “Run and find cover! Leave these guys to us!”
“Okay,” Aladriael nodded, clearly struggling against the gas. Zaya couldn’t stop coughing.
Hilda turned back to her partner.
“Combo attack! Three, two, one—go!”
The two burst from hiding—Hilda in front, unloading her pistol through the gas mist toward the reinforced glass of the helmets, and Hahasiah summoning black smoke orbs above her, launching dark spikes.
The Zarinians who’d reached their level barely had time to aim. They were pierced by laser shots and spectral javelins that evaporated seconds later in small clouds of smoke. Green slime oozed from the holes in their suits.
The mist of tear gas filled the air, turning the corpses on the ground and the figures in the distance milky.
Milky, but not invisible.
The attack wiped out those who had taken this escalator, but more soldiers were already advancing from the others escalators.
“Go, Hasiah, run!” Hilda pushed her friend back toward the corridor, dodging incoming blasts by inches.
They darted past the clothing stand, noticing that Aladriael and Zaya were no longer there.
“They’re here to capture someone!” Hahasiah exclaimed.
“Yeah, I know!”
“Captain. Hilda.” A booming, artificial voice echoed across the floor. “You. Have. Something. We. Want! Surrender. Zaya. And. You. Will. Be. Rewarded! The. Same. Applies. To. Mercenary. Galadriel! Hand. Over. The. Girl. And. There. Will. Be. No. Deaths! We. Pay. Well!”
Hilda and Hahasiah stopped and looked at each other.
“Nádius’s grandniece, my ass…” Hilda hissed. “That girl’s someone important.”
“Yeah… So what do we do now?”
“Get the hell outta here! I’m not negotiating with these damn lava lamps! They pay well... yeah, sure! We need to find the girls and get out!”
“Sure, but how? The escalators have certainly already been taken. We won’t make it down without passing through them.”
“Not with these weapons.” Hilda raised her pistol and gave her friend a sly grin. Hahasiah cracked a little smile. Then the android’s expression turned sharp as she accessed a hidden internal command. Her eyes glowed red for a second as she stared into nothing. When she snapped out of it, she barked:
“Come on, help me find the girls!”
11
“This. Is. Your. Final. Warning. Captain. Hilda. And. Mercenary. Galadriel! Hand. Over. The. Girl. And. Leave. Here. Alive. And. Well. Paid! Refuse. The. Deal. And. We. Will. Kill. You! You. Are. Surrounded!”
The customers and shopkeepers who tried to reach the escalators were captured, forced to drop their weapons and lie on the floor, where their hands were zip-tied behind their backs.
The squad leader signaled with his fingers, and the troops spread out in coordinated formation, pouring into the food court’s corridors.
12
“Zaya! Galadriel!” Hilda whispered at each fork between shops, everything still bathed in blue emergency light. “Shit, I can’t reach Panz!” she added, worried. “Those motherfuckers must’ve taken the crew!”
“They knew we’d be here!” Hahasiah snarled. “Their action is too coordinated for an impromptu attack!”
Hilda clicked her tongue in frustration.
“Yeah, I know! Some certain someone must’ve leaked our location!”
It took Hahasiah a second to guess who, and when she did, she let out a bitter snort.
“Of course…”
They stopped at a T-junction, picked a direction at random, and took off down the corridor until—
“Look out!” Hahasiah caught sight of some soldiers advancing in line through the cross-corridor beside them.
The soldiers raised their rifles and fired.
PEWPEWPEWPEW…!
The two pirates dove forward just in time, letting toys and cell phone parts melt in their place, blaster fire tearing red streaks through the blue haze. A cowering shopkeeper trembled on the ground.
“They want Zaya alive and in one piece!” Hilda exclaimed as they ducked around more corners to lose their pursuers.
“Yeah, I noticed that too.”
More than anyone, Hahasiah knew that despite the flashy sounds and glowing beams, lasers weren’t the best choice for combat in a cluttered market. Good old lead bullets were way more effective, cutting through stands and kiosks like cardboard. If the Zarinians didn’t need Zaya alive, they’d have just swept the area with horizontal fire and left no one standing.
“Duck!” Hahasiah shouted, firing a smoky harpoon over Hilda’s shoulder, hitting a fishbowl-headed robot coming around the next corner.
The robot fell dead and the green goo turned gray, piercing through along with the glass. The next soldier in line stopped short, held up a closed fist, and halted the column behind him.
At the tip of each rifle was a tiny mirror. One soldier carefully extended his weapon, trying to peek around the—
ZAZ!
A red blur sliced the barrel clean in half—like butter.
The blur darted forward, and the fishbowl flew off, decapitated, water sizzling on contact with the blazing blade. Once matte black, the heat sword now glowed like a neon baton, wrapped in a shimmer of red mana.
The nearest soldiers tried to shoot at Hilda, but before they could pull the trigger, they were skewered by a volley of dissolving black spikes. Hahasiah pierced them one by one while Hilda deflected incoming fire aimed at both of them.
In seconds, the corridor was clear.
Even so, the constant reinforcements forced them to retreat, firing behind them at any fishbowl that dared peek around a corner.
Before they knew it, they were back in the food court—along with all the remaining customers who had chosen to stay.
“Zaya! Galadriel! Where the hell are you?!” Hilda shouted.
“IT’S ALADRIAEL, DAMMIT!” came a voice from behind some steaming pots.
They spun toward the voice just as the soldiers stormed the food court from all directions, rifles raised.
Hilda, Hahasiah, and the others raised their hands in surrender.
The captain whispered:
“When I say ‘now,’ duck.”
Hahasiah gave a tiny nod.
“Where. Is. Zaya?” A soldier approached and asked, rifle at the ready. “Where. Is. Mercenary?”
“Good question,” Hilda said casually. “I ordered them to run, and wow—never seen someone obey me so well!”
“Then. It’s. Best. They. Disobeyed. You. Or. You. Die!" The rifle barrel aimed at the synthetic face.
"Uh... is the payment offer still valid?"
"Yes! But. The price. Now. Is. Your. Life! Tell. Us. And. Live! Protect her. And. Die!"
“Wow, phrased like that, the choice is super clear. Okay, see those deep-fried pastries over there?” Hilda pointed toward a distant food stall, and the slime inside the soldier’s helmet turned to look. “Yeah, they’re not there.”
“You. Insolent—!” The soldier turned back just as—
Blamblamblam…! Pewpewpew…!
The distant sound of blaster fire and high-caliber gunshots drew everyone’s attention. Impacts, crashes, something large tearing through the market... It sounded like a tank mowing its way forward. The Zarinians aimed toward the noise, bracing for whatever was coming. Customers backed away, tension rising.
Then a metallic "BAM!" echoed through the station floor, shaking the ground.
Hilda screamed:
“NOW!”
She and Hahasiah dove to the ground, along with a few customers (pure reflex), a second before...
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM…!
...a storm of bullets swept through the plaza, shredding Zarinians in a rain of water and green goo.
Hilda and Hahasiah didn’t hesitate. They flipped the nearest tables into makeshift shields and fired their pistols from behind cover at the remaining soldiers.
With no other choice, the customers joined in.
The Zarinians retreated, returning fire, some throwing gas grenades among the tables. Smoke rose, clouding vision and forcing the more sensitive to flee—or choke.
Those who fled were gunned down.
The canisters were tossed back at the invaders, spreading gas all across the plaza. Blaster beams lit up the haze in red lines. Now and then, someone dropped—soldier or civilian.
Then came a growing racket of metal grinding and kiosks toppling. The noise built. People stopped shooting and turned to look, one by one.
Crouched behind a shredded table, Hahasiah and Hilda both grinned.
A three-meter-tall figure approached, shoving aside booths and stalls with its bare hands.
It looked like a metallic giant.
When it pushed aside the last obstruction and stepped into the food court, jaws dropped.
The third mech suit had arrived.
Hilda's suit.
Standing tall at the edge of the circle, it held a giant rifle, its black body gleaming with yellow accents.
And on its chest and weapon were painted...
Guess what.
Yes. Both tilted and dripping paint.
The massive hand cocked the machine gun, raised the barrel and...
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM…!
...opened fire.
The soldiers tried to fight back, but it was like shooting spitballs. Despite the smoke and the scent of burnt paint, the mech was unharmed.
“Cover me!” Hilda yelled and sprinted toward the mech. “Here, Rex!” she called, and the machine turned, advancing toward her while mowing down enemies.
Anyone aiming at the android was met with 144 grams of lead, spectral spikes, customer crossfire—or all three. And those lucky enough to land a hit watched their shots get deflected by the heat blade.
Hilda jumped into the suit (shooting two Zarinians mid-leap), sealed it shut, and shouted through the loudspeaker:
“DOWN!”
Everyone dropped.
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM…!
Spinning in place, Hilda aimed at mid-booth height, shooting above the crouched civilians and straight into the soldiers standing in the plaza, corridors, and by the escalators.
…BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM…
Tracer rounds streaked yellow through the air, shells clattered across the metal grating, smoke tracing their paths.
…BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM…
Walls were split. Kiosks were obliterated.
…BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM…
Hahasiah stayed crouched, head forward, hands clasped behind her neck.
…BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM…
Behind the steaming pots, Aladriael held Zaya down as she and the cooks shilded themselfes under the shower of shattered spice jars at their backs.
…BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM! *click*
A long silence followed from the smoking barrel. Hilda ejected the empty magazine, that clang loudly to the floor, smoke tracing its path. The android pulled another from her waist compartment, and locked it in place.
“Guys! With me—NOW!”
No need to say it twice. Hahasiah got up and sprinted after her. Aladriael and Zaya emerged from hiding, the wall behind them collapsing.
They followed the path opened by the mech, which ran ahead, its every step shaking the grated floor.
Dead Zarinians oozed from the rubble. Zaya looked pale, forehead beaded with sweat.
Reaching the outer railing that overlooked the ground floor, they ran alongside it, searching for the Killer Cigar. Occasionally, a soldier appeared—but one shot or spectral spike dropped them.
Finally, they found the ship—but their stomachs sank.
Hilda’s crew was kneeling at the bow, weapons aimed at their backs by twenty Zarinians.
Next to them, ten cargo modules lay on the floor—the ones the soldiers had arrived in. The EMP (which had killed the lights) and the flash bomb had been used to confuse and dazzle the customers, allowing a smooth breach through the forcefield.
“Surrender. Captain. Hilda! Give. Us. Zaya. Or. Your. Crew. Dies!”
“Panz! Are you okay?!” Hilda shouted.
“For now!” the punk android called back.
“Silence! Captain. Hilda. You. Have. Five. Seconds. To. Obey! Five... Four... Three... Two...”
Blam!
A perfect shot, fired from mech-thigh level, pierced a Zarinian right through the helmet.
Before the others realized what was happening…
Blam! Ca-clack! Blam! Ca-clack!
...two more dropped.
Hahasiah and Hilda looked to the side and saw the elf standing, backed closer to the stands in order to use the floor as a shield, her legs spread wide in a perfect stance and the butt of the rifle firmly against her shoulder.
The soldiers fired back, but the terrain favored Aladriael. Their beams either hit the ceiling or the ledge, while each blam of hers dropped another Zarinian.
Outgunned, the soldiers fled, tossing grenades toward the kneeling crew and firing blindly behind them.
Most missed—allowing the androids to escape. But Panz and two others were hit in the legs.
“No!” Hilda screamed and...
BOOM!
...the grenades tore them apart.
For a second, Hilda and Hahasiah froze, ears ringing, faces stricken in chock.
Then fury took over.
As the sounds around them returned and their faces twisted with rage, one activated her red mana thruster and vaulted over the railing, while the other conjured black wings from hovering points above her shoulders, launching into a low-altitude dive, each pirate going a different way.
13
Hahasiah wasn’t on the space station.
She was on Zarin.
In the canyon.
Under intense enemy fire.
In her eyes, it wasn’t Panz, Gart, and Fen who had just exploded, but her own men.
Three of the nearly one thousand soldiers lost under her command.
Soldiers she couldn’t save without risking the few survivors who had escaped with her aboard the rescue pods, dispatched by the mother cruiser.
Hahasiah still spent sleepless nights hearing the radio calls for help in her ears, the sounds of gunfire, the screams of pain and death echoing in her mind.
Her blazing eyes wept tears of hatred as she swooped down on the fleeing Zarinians and fired her harpoons.
“AAAAAH…!” Every strike was a flash, a scene of her comrades being obliterated by Zarinian blaster machine guns. With enough energy to not only pierce through, but explode organic targets, given the sudden evaporation of water in their bodies, each image was an abstract picture.
The former soldier could still smell the burning flesh, smoke, dust, and blood...
From their shelters, the customers and shopkeepers watched the soldiers run and drop face-first, one by one, skewered by black harpoons, followed by a dark gray blur flying overhead, screaming.
One.
Two.
Three.
Ten.
Twelve.
When the last Zarinian hit the ground and rolled across the grating, its goo pierced, the robot drooling green blood, Hahasiah pulled a hard turn in midair, landed, and stared at the row of bodies.
Her lips slowly relaxed, but the heat of rage still burned inside her. She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and looked at her hands.
They trembled as if she were standing in snow.
Hahasiah took a deep breath, ran her hands through her hair in an anxious gesture, and struggled to calm herself.
“Major?” a voice called, and for a second, an electric shock ran through her body. Hahasiah spun around quickly, only to find the rest of the crew. Her shoulders visibly relaxed. “Are you alright, ma’am?” The android seemed genuinely concerned.
“No, but thanks for asking.” Hahasiah gave a crooked smile and nodded respectfully.
“Major, they... they...”
“I know,” Hahasiah cut him off firmly, her eyes locking onto the subordinate’s face with the intensity of shared pain. “Zapan, you and two others, collect... collect Panz, Gart, and Fen so we can give them a proper funeral. The rest, follow me.” Her face hardened like steel, her flaming irises igniting like embers. “We have to find a certain elf.”
14
Hilda didn’t even bother running. She made a point of walking calmly, aiming carefully at each fleeing Zarinian before exploding their fishbowls with a precise shot.
BLAM!
A shower of water and green goo, a soldier down.
The barrel moved to the side.
Aiming for a fleeing back and...
BLAM!
Another shower, another soldier down.
Another aim.
BLAM!
Hilda’s expression was pure stone.
One tried to run into a shop, but the bullet simply punched through the wall like it was nothing.
That was the second-to-last.
For the last one, she aimed at the leg.
BLAM!
The soldier flew forward, calf flying sideways as the knee disintegrated.
Hilda approached slowly. The soldier dragged himself along the floor when the shadow of the mech suit swallowed him. The slime inside the fishbowl turned just in time to see the massive foot rise and stomp on his back.
The sound of sparks and cracking metal echoed as Hilda crushed the robot like a hydraulic press. The captain stopped just short of flattening it completely and touched the fishbowl with her rifle, the barrel aiming straight at the Zarinian inside.
“Why do you want Zaya?” she growled through clenched teeth.
“You. Don’t. Know. Who. She. Is?”
BLAM!
The shot hit the shoulder, severing the arm in a spray of green. The barrel returned to aim at the Zarinian.
“Why. Do. You. Want. Zaya?!” Hilda growled word by word, but the Zarinian didn’t answer. It activated something inside the suit, stretching one of its gelatinous protrusions, and a black liquid began spreading through the water. “Oh, no you don’t!” The massive mechanical hand grabbed the fishbowl and crushed it, spilling its contents and dropping the Zarinian onto the grated floor. She pinched it between two fingers and approached the forcefield. “That’s for my friends.”
And she hurled it into outer space.
15
Aladriael held a pistol to a shopkeeper’s neck and one hand on his shoulder as he guided her toward the individual ship parking deck, in the basement. Behind them came a Zaya paler than the poor man himself.
Knowing no one lived on the station and that there were colonies nearby on a neighboring asteroid, the girl needed no explanations.
“Move, Zaya, stay close to me!” the elf ordered, her rigid face sweating cold.
The girl hurried her pace, despite her clear hesitation. They had just rounded a corner in the wholesale section and were about to enter an alley leading to the basement escalator when black smoke orbs appeared in front of them.
Aladriael visibly froze.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a familiar voice growled from behind. Zaya was the only one to turn and face Hahasiah, hovering in midair, black wings fully spread. “Captain,” the vampirangel called over the radio, “I’m here at the corner of the wholesale section, near the escalator. I found them. Over.”
“Perfect!” Hilda’s voice replied. “Good job! I’m on my way now. Over.”
“Awaiting orders. Over,” Hahasiah finished without taking her eyes off them. As she lowered her arm with the radio, the crew appeared, all armed with rifles stolen from the dead soldiers.
Still facing away from the vampirangel, Aladriael subtly turned her face to the side and said:
“I’m just doing my job, Hahasiah.” Her voice clearly trembled with cold sweat. “We’re not enemies. Let us go, and we’ll each go our own way.”
The response came in the form of harpoons slowly emerging from the smoke. At a hand signal from the major, the androids closed in, rifles raised.
“Let him go, Aladriael,” Hahasiah ordered bluntly. “You’re not leaving. Not without explaining exactly who Zaya is.”
“I can’t,” the elf gritted through her teeth.
“Yes, you can. That’s the price for our men’s lives.” Hahasiah’s gaze was hard as steel, her chin raised.
“Hahasiah, listen to me. It doesn’t matter who Zaya is!” Aladriael dared not look directly back. “What matters is that we were betrayed! All of us. Someone leaked our location to the Zarinians, and now my client’s position is compromised! I need to get her out of here before more troops arrive! And if I were you, I’d do the same.”
Zaya looked between both women when the heavy sound of footsteps echoed, and Hilda appeared around the corner.
“Nice try,” she said, her voice coming from the suit’s loudspeaker as she walked slowly toward the group, each step echoing in the alley. “But you only leave here if you spill the truth. Come on, let the guy go and let’s have a real talk.”
Aladriael finally turned around. Over twenty armed androids stared her down, along with a vampirangel with spectral powers and a combat suit with a rifle taller than she was.
“Tsk!” She clicked her tongue and released the shopkeeper, who bolted toward the escalator and vanished.
The elf raised her hands in surrender and placed her weapons on the ground, rifle included.
“Okay, we talk. But inside your ship, with it in motion. Deal? I don’t want to stay here a minute longer.”
Everyone looked to the captain, waiting for the order.
“Fully agreed. Zapan, grab the elf’s weapons. All of them. Don’t leave anything behind.” The android nodded. “And you, Hahasiah, search the little lioness and take her under your watch.”
Aladriael pressed her lips together but said nothing. She and Zaya only exchanged looks.
16
The space station was gone.
In its place, only the stars surrounding the ship could be seen.
"Alright, you can talk," Hilda said, leaning back against the desk in her cabin, she and Hahasiah side by side, each holding a pistol, arms crossed. Sitting in a chair next to them was Zaya, and against the wall opposite the desk, Aladriael stood, unarmed. "We’re alone and a good 50 million kilometers from the station. What you say here won’t leave this room, you have my word," the captain guaranteed.
Aladriael and Zaya exchanged glances, and the elf opened her mouth, but it was the girl who spoke first.
"Okay, you want the truth?"
"That would be a good start," Hilda said, staring at her.
"Do you promise not to tell anyone or use this information against me?" It was a heartfelt request from someone who could only count on the goodwill of a criminal.
Hilda nodded and said:
"It might not seem like it, sweetheart, but we care about you. Otherwise, Hasiah and I would have just run and left you behind. The problem is saving you cost the lives of three of our men, one of them my friend. That’s why now I want to know exactly who they died for."
"A-alright..." Zaya hesitated. She took a deep breath and then said all at once:
"I’m the Supreme Commander’s daughter."
Hilda and Hahasiah's eyes widened so much they nearly popped out of their heads.
"You’re what?!" Hilda raised her voice.
"That guy has a daughter?!" Hahasiah exclaimed. "Who’s your mother? He’s not married, is he?"
"N-no... My mother was a colleague of his who died in service 17 years ago, and since then he’s taken care of me. But we don't have much contact. We're not exactly close. I live with my maternal grandparents and he sends me money. I barely see him."
The two pirates looked at Aladriael, their gazes demanding more explanations, but it was Zaya who spoke.
"My father will never admit this publicly, but he knows there’s no way to win this war. Not after the Zarinian troops’ advances in recent months. They’re taking more and more asteroids in the belt and installing atomic weapons there. That’s why my father wanted to get me out of Tchar. But it had to be done in secret, not just to prevent the public from finding out that the Supreme Commander is evacuating his daughter, but so I wouldn’t be kidnapped along the way and taken hostage."
Hilda closed her eyes and rubbed them hard as she processed the layers of the situation.
"That’s why you hired us, isn’t it? Because you needed someone with firepower to protect you in case of danger, someone with no ties to the army who wouldn’t ask questions and who could be expendable in case of attacks."
"Exactly. If the army escorts a random girl to Yurus, it could draw enough attention to start an investigation and find out about me."
"The problem is someone leaked that information to the Zarinians!" Aladriael added, and the three turned to her. "And I bet my ears it was Nadius! Only six people knew Zaya’s identity: her grandparents, me, the commander, and..."
"Yeah, we know it was Nadius!" Hilda raised her voice, furious. "And you know how we found out? Because I gave our itinerary to that son of a bitch!" Zaya and Aladriael's eyes widened while Hahasiah mirrored her friend’s frustrated expression. "I thought I was keeping a worried great-uncle informed, not a fucking traitor who, God knows why, decided to side with those robotic slimes! If you had told us the plan from the beginning, I wouldn’t have lost three men!"
"Oh, come on, Hilda!" Aladriael threw her arms wide. "Would you have told a group of pirates that the escort was for the Commander’s daughter?!" Hilda opened her mouth, but her argument died before it was born. She exchanged glances with Hahasiah, who just shrugged with a "yeah, she’s got a point" look. "Now I know you’re honorable and keep your word, but how were we supposed to know that before?"
"Honestly, Aladriael, you got really lucky!" Hilda fired back, still furious. "If we weren’t cool, if it were another crew in our place, screw who Zaya is! They would have easily accepted the Zarinians’ offer." Aladriael and Zaya looked at each other. "But alright, I get that you were desperate and out of options. Let’s not waste time arguing about whose fault it is. We’re on the same side. Let’s agree the blame is on Nadius and focus on the now. We need to find a way to contact the Commander and ask for help. I suggest finding a colony, hiring a spectral antenna, and..."
"Uh... guys, I don’t have my father’s contact," Zaya said, and all eyes fell on her.
"What?" Hahasiah was shocked. "You don’t have your father’s phone number?!"
"No, he... he insists on keeping me hidden," the girl said with some frustration. "Not even my grandparents have his number. He was always the one contacting us, and always from a private number."
Hilda, Aladriael, and Hahasiah exchanged glances for a brief moment, their expressions saying it all.
"Look on the bright side," Hilda said sarcastically. "At least he pays child support."
"What do we do now?" Aladriael asked.
"It depends." Hilda looked at the girl. "Zaya, do you have family in Yurus or any other planet?"
"No. I would only have that so-called ‘contact’ from Nadius to help me."
Hilda let out a bitter laugh.
"Yeah... the ‘contact’ that doesn’t exist... Fucking hell..." The android rubbed her face and then looked at Hahasiah. The two exchanged a long look, seeming to have a silent conversation.
"We have three spare beds..." the vampirangel commented with a sad note.
Hilda let out another bitter laugh and Aladriael frowned in question.
"What do you mean?" Her eyes jumped worriedly between the two.
Hilda stared at her.
"Zaya has nowhere to go," she sentenced. "Tchar isn’t safe, and Yurus just became pointless. The only place left for her is..."
Zaya’s eyes widened.
"Oh, no! Sorry, guys, no offense, but I don’t want to be a pirate!"
"Yeah, we know. The feeling is mutual. Don’t get me wrong, Zaya," Hilda raised her hand, "you’re a good person, but you don’t fit our profile."
"No kidding! I almost crapped myself in that shootout!"
"I know... But until we find a place to drop you off, you’re going to have to stay with us. We can’t just dump you anywhere and say screw it."
Zaya fell silent, mouth slightly open, eyes fixed on the captain as if she wanted to say something but had nothing to argue.
"And my grandparents?" she whispered after a long silence.
"Look..." Hahasiah spoke, her tone understanding, "I get your concern, but I don’t think they can help. Right now, our focus is your safety. Later we’ll figure out a way for you to talk to them and let them know about your situation."
The girl visibly deflated.
"And what about me?" Aladriael pointed to herself. "My mission was to get Zaya safely to Yurus. If now she’s staying under your protection, then I can leave."
Hilda and Hahasiah exchanged glances and shrugged.
"True," the captain said. "We just need to get out of this solar system first. If it’s not Nadius, then it’ll be the Zarinians on our tail."
"Would you mind going to Mon-Kah?" the elf asked.
"No."
"Alright."
Zaya frowned, confused:
"No, wait a minute, guys! What do you mean we’re going to Mon-Kah?! That system is far as hell! And you’re pirates! It’s not like you can just hop on a cruiser-ferry and buy tickets! The Tchar orbital patrol will arrest us!"
The answer was a glance between Hilda and Hahasiah. The two crossed their arms and flashed confident smiles.
"I don’t get it..."
The smiles widened.
17
The name "cruiser-ferry" is a bit misleading.
It has nothing to do with a ferry. It’s actually a gi-gan-tic space station, made up of ten parallel rings designed to loosely encompass even the largest vessels.
Remember when I mentioned one way to travel long distances was using "long legs"? Well, a cruiser-ferry is like a giant wearing seven-league boots. Its entire structure is basically a single, massive spectral engine capable of transporting ships across dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of light-years through the galaxy.
That is...
After the fee is paid, of course, and your ship passes customs inspection.
But pirates don’t pay fares.
Nor do they go through customs.
Standing in line? Forget about it.
18
A cup of coffee was placed on the control panel by a blue hand. In the background, through the large window of the control room, the first ship in line could be seen slowly maneuvering into the rings, their colossal size enough to cause vertigo.
The head controller, a demon with a shiny bald head and huge pitch-colored horns, sat down in front of the coffee, his arrow-shaped tail swaying behind him. He took a sip from the cup and focused on the screen, checking if the payments, customs clearance, and ship destinations were in order. Around him, his staff checked the spectral engine status, fuel levels, cooling systems...
A radio call flashed on the telecom operator’s desk.
"Uh... boss." The human spun in his chair and looked at his superior, his face twisted in confusion. "There’s a ship trying to make direct contact."
The demon stood up and approached the panel, where the contact request was flashing.
"Accept it. Let’s see what this is."
The technician pressed the button and spoke into the microphone:
"This is Tcharin cruiser-ferry number 7. Identify yourself."
"Hey there, beautiful people!" A female voice echoed through the speaker. The boss and the employee frowned. "This is Captain Hilda speaking!" The two lost all color. "Yep, that’s me! Calling to let you know I’m not arriving."
Shouts were heard from outside and...
Bam!
...the door to the room was kicked open.
"I’m already here!"
A group of five armed androids entered, taking the staff hostage.
A dark gray vampirangel in uniform entered last and calmly approached the radio console. She asked the human and the demon (both with their hands up) for some room, pulled the microphone close to her mouth, and said:
"We’re here, Captain. Nez already secured customs."
"Perfect! Start inputting the coordinates; I’ll clear a spot in line."
"Understood."
19
"Go, Zapan, bring us in while I send a broadcast!" Hilda smiled confidently, standing on the command bridge, while her crew operated the ship, each at their console. Like in a submarine, there were no windows; the positions of celestial bodies and nearby objects were indicated only by screens and numbers.
In the corner of the room, near the door, Aladriael and Zaya watched the action.
The captain, fully uniformed (jacket and cap), picked up the radio, found the correct frequency, and called into the microphone:
"Hello? Anyone home?"
"This is the Prize cruiser!" Hilda grinned widely at the austere voice over the speaker. "Identify yourself."
"Oh, with pleasure! My name is Captain Hilda, and if I were you, I’d get out of there before my ship blasts you with my cannons."
"What? Captain Hi... Oh, my God!" the voice trailed off, probably turning to shout:
"Full reverse! Quickly! Engines at one hundred percen..." The radio cut off.
Hilda laughed to herself.
"They’re clearing the path, captain," Zapan reported.
"Perfect." Hilda switched the radio channel and called. "Hasiah, how are things over there?"
"All set, captain. Route is plotted, control room locked, and staff secured in the storage room. Jump is on auto. It’ll initiate in ten minutes. You can dock; we’re coming back."
"Perfect. I’ll be waiting."
"Understood. Let’s go, folks, let’s get out of here!" Hahasiah’s voice faded as she gave the order, and the radio cut off.
Barely a moment later, the radar beeped an alert. Hilda and Zapan turned toward the same screen, where a huge green dot appeared near the Killer Cigar.
A huge green dot identified as "Tcharin Battle Cruiser."
Hilda’s expression melted.
"Shit..." she muttered under her breath.
"This is Tcharin Orbital Patrol!" a voice echoed through the command room, and everyone straightened up. Hilda, Zaya, and Aladriael exchanged furious looks. "Surrender, or we will open fire!"
Hilda pressed the radio button and shouted back:
"Do you really want to kill the commander’s daughter, you son of a bitch? Because she’s right here! The same one you wanted to hand over to the Zarinians!"
"I’m using mental radio, you stupid doll! My men can’t hear you."
Hilda grimaced. She released the radio button and told Zapan:
"Relay the signal to Hasiah and tell her and the boys to be ready." Zapan nodded and moved to another radio console. "Guys! Everyone to the suits!" she ordered, and except for the pilots, everyone obeyed. The android brought the radio closer to her mouth and pressed the button again. "Why did you sell out Zaya to the Zarinians, you bastard?!"
"Because Major Hahasiah is right! The commander is a lunatic, a war fanatic who needs to be stopped before he destroys our planet! And this girl is the key to that! If the Zarinians have her in custody, the commander will be forced to negotiate at least a truce!"
Hilda, Zaya, and Aladriael's eyes widened.
"Are you fucking nuts?!" the captain shouted. "That has more chances to go wrong than right! Just take out that bastard and end this! You know him personally!"
Nadius laughed bitterly.
"You don’t know the upper ranks of the Tcharin army, girl. Cutting off the hydra's head does nothing. The commander is surrounded by people as crazy as or crazier than him. Killing him will just change the face of the war, not stop it. You need to dissuade the monster. I’m giving you one last chance to do the right thing, something that could save billions of lives. Hand me the girl, and I’ll let you go."
Hilda stared intensely at Zaya and Aladriael, her mind racing.
"Come on! You’re a pirate! Your loyalty is to money and your own neck! What does this girl mean to you? Hand her over and you’ll be free to leave this system! I give you my word!"
Hilda bit her lower lip, thought, then said:
"Okay, okay! Let’s say I accept your offer... How would I hand the girl over to you?"
Zaya and Aladriael widened their eyes and rushed closer, but the captain released the radio button and raised her hand:
"Calm down, trust me!"
"Put her in one of your suits and send it to my cruiser on autopilot. I will intercept it."
"And what guarantee do I have that you won’t bomb me as soon as you have Zaya in hand?"
"The same guarantee I have that you won’t send me a bomb instead of her. You have five minutes! Don’t try anything funny, girl, or I’ll turn your space submarine into scrap!"
"Alright..." she said in a defeated tone, then stared Zaya deep in the eyes. Her face broke into a mischievous grin as she finished: "Don’t worry, Nadius, I’m not into funny business."
20
"Captain!" Hahasiah called over the radio, her voice tense. She and the rest of the crew were in the landing area for small ships, each in their combat suit, all near the decompression chamber hatch. Around them, the rings rose from the space station like a titan’s ribs. "Captain?"
"Hey! What’s up."
"Don’t attack the cruiser, please! The soldiers have nothing to do with this!"
"I know, don’t worry. I’d love to kill that son of a bitch, but I get it. I promise not to hurt anyone."
"Thank you." Hahasiah smiled in relief and looked toward the Killer Cigar, parked outside the massive rings, over 150 meters in diameter.
"You’re welcome. We’re in this together, friend. Now get back here; we don’t have much time!"
"I heard the talk with Nadius. What’s your plan?"
"Hehe! You’re gonna like it."
21
"Sir, a hostile mech suit is approaching!" a soldier reported, seated at the radar. He looked up when he didn’t get a response.
"It’s not hostile, soldier. Inside it is a hostage of the pirates. I want you to receive them in the decompression chamber."
The soldier found it odd but asked no questions.
"Affirmative, sir," was all he said.
"I will oversee the operation personally."
"As you wish, sir."
22
The suit appeared framed by the cargo bay’s hatch and slowly crossed the forcefield membrane. The area was empty, except for a small contingent of cold androids (non-sentient), programmed to intercept anyone or anything coming out from inside.
The suit landed on the iron floor and stood there like a statue. The robots approached, and upon reaching the machine's back, its hatch automatically lowered, revealing the seat.
Seeing what was inside, the robots tilted their heads slightly.
Nadius, in the corridor outside, flanked by an assault troop, watched the robots' view through a tablet. His eyes narrowed in question at the image.
Instead of a girl, two huge coils, haphazardly attached to a massive battery, lay in the seat.
"What the hell is this?"
Suddenly, a loud electric crack echoed like a whip as the battery instantly discharged, causing an electron overload in the coil.
The result was karmic.
The cruiser’s lights went out, and the tablet shut down as the electromagnetic pulse disabled unprotected electrical systems.
Nadius looked around in the dark and shouted:
"Son of a bitch!"
23
As soon as the cruiser’s lights went out, Hilda ordered:
"Now, everyone!" From behind the Killer Cigar, 28 suits appeared and landed atop the ship, weapons ready. "FIRE!"
A shower of yellow streaks traced the vacuum of space toward the cruiser, each barrel aiming at a blaster cannon.
While Hahasiah relied on volume, launching projectiles and harpoons like a divine plague, Hilda took her time aiming, each shot hitting a cannon. Her crew shot less accurately, missing more than hitting, but causing enough damage. Aladriael, on the other hand, seemed like a machine: one shot per second, one cannon disabled per second.
"Zaya! Press the button!" Hilda shouted.
"Okay!" the girl replied.
She was alone on the command bridge, in front of a button labeled "activate." She slammed her hand on it, and both the ship and the suits were slowly enveloped by a black cloud, disappearing from outside the rings and reappearing inside.
The 28 suits adjusted their aim and kept firing, even as the cruiser's power returned.
In the ferry's control room, the countdown on the screen marked:
3...
2...
1...
Activate.
Another slow cloud of smoke enveloped the submarine just as the cruiser’s missile hatch, its only remaining weapon, opened and launched a rain of projectiles.
The cloud completely swallowed the Killer Cigar; the missiles arrived, entered the smoke, and...
Exited the other side.
The smoke cleared, revealing ten empty rings, the missiles heading toward the planet.
They say in space no one can hear you scream. Which is true, except if you’re next to person screaming.
The soldiers discreetly stepped away from the general, their ears hurting.
24
When planet Shakran appeared in the distance, like an especially fat star hanging in space, Hilda shouted:
"Go, Zaya! Again!"
Zaya pressed the button again, and the ship jumped 18 million kilometers at random, approaching the planet and disappearing completely from Nadius’s reach.
All the suits cheered in celebration.
Hahasiah and Aladriael high-fived, and Hilda spoke on the radio.
"Congratulations, everyone! Drinks are on me today!" (Note: androids can taste, if their body model has a mouth with taste sensors.)
While her crew sang and celebrated, the captain looked into space and said on the private channel:
"For someone who didn’t want to be a pirate, you did pretty well, girl."
"Come on, I just pressed a button. Twice."
"I know, but that’s how it starts. Today it’s a button. Tomorrow you’ll be fighting side by side with me and Hasiah." The girl laughed on the radio, and Hilda smiled a bit shyly. "Hey, Zaya, want me to bring you any particular brand of beer?"
There was a brief silence.
"Was that a pickup line?"
Hilda laughed.
"Only if you want it to be. Or we can just be two friends drinking together. Your call."
The smile was audible.
From both.
"Bring two Galadriels, and we’ll talk."
Hilda laughed again.
"You got it."
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Go ahead."
"Thanks for being on our side."
Hilda’s smile softened with tenderness.
"You’re welcome, sweetheart. Welcome to my crew."
Comentários
Postar um comentário