A/N: "End of the Line" by Henry Jackman from the Captain America: The Winter Soldier OST, and "Labor of Love" by Michael Giacchino from the Star Trek 2009 OST.

Warning: Descriptions of violence and gore.

"The Purge: As the Stars Fall"

Even behind the safety of the intangible viewscreen spread across the front of the bridge, Hans still had to squint - such was the dazzling brightness of the explosion in the distance. Drago had made the mistake of ordering the view magnified to see precisely why the abnormal aircraft had changed course to charge directly into the swarm, and was markedly enlightened when the screen was filled with blinding white light that even took the dark grey decor of the bridge a few shades lighter.

"Report!" Frustrated, Drago barked out an order.

Immediately, the officer in charge of manually controlling the drones cycled through his small holographic screens on his workstation to the left of the captain, until he found one that he needed, one that was filled with hundreds of red blinking dots. "Sir, all drones have been destroyed."

"All of them? Every single drone?" Drago questioned with a perceptible hint of incredulity.

"Yes, sir. That explosion wiped out our entire wing."

Hans had to hand it to the abnormals - they were courageous. It didn't take a military tactician to deduce that, having been clipped by a lucky shot courtesy of the medium cannons, the craft had circled around and detonated its fuel cell in the heart of the drone swarm. A shining example of self-sacrifice, they chose to completely cancel out the Hammer's best way to intercept escaping craft since the signal dish had been destroyed.

How brave...and utterly futile.

"Status on the cannons, Lieutenant." Hans smoothly but quickly asked - Drago looked like he was going to rip off the poor lieutenant's arm, beat him to death with it and repaint the bridge in a lovely shade of claret.

"Sir, according to the engineers they should have the middle port cannon operational within the next fifteen minutes." the brunette engineering officer answered quickly.

"Why only the middle one?" Drago growled.

"They've been encountering problems with synchronising the power system with the cannon's capacitors. They say activating more than one cannon could cause a critical power feedback surge and overload the ship's power system, though there's a chance of it happening with just one," the officer explained, though hastily added when quailing under Drago's scornful gaze, "...a small chance, sir."

"Calm, Captain. One is more than enough." Hans chuckled, and then twisted to address the raven-haired tactical officer stood by the holo-table at the rear of the bridge - the man designated to study the attack, "Status on the incursion?"

"Reports from the Alphas say they are pushing the abnormals back towards what looks like the ship's hangar bay, but are encountering heavy resistance." he said, slowly moving his hand to revolve the holographic hovering three-dimensional blueprint of the ancient vessel. Hundreds of green dots symbolising the clone troopers filled the hologram, with four yellow dots to signify the Valkyries, each one moving in different directions.

Hans smiled. Everything was going smoothly and to plan. "Excellent. Victory nears."


That was it, then. There was no more to be done.

Four successful launches had infused Kristoff's purpose and determination with buoyancy and, dare he say it, hope. The clone army had been slowed to a crawl thanks to the maze of corridors familiar only to the crew, and despite the odds being against him Hiccup had displayed once again that, in the air with Toothless, he was a pilot with no equal or rival.

Then the unthinkable happened like a sucker-punch out of left field - their leader Neve was dead, passing in what Hiccup described as a blinding sphere of light. For the second time in less than six months, guilt plagued Kristoff like an unwanted companion. He was the one who pushed the button and sent the Apollo to its destruction.

Screwing his eyes shut, he willed himself into locking the pain away. He was the leader, technically the leader of the ship with Neve dead and Fiona hidden away in Sanctuary, so he had to compartmentalise. Focus. Function. The team was looking to him for orders.

And those were for a last stand.

"Harvester to team," he said in a low voice heavy with exhaustion and the absence of spirit, "fall back to the hangar deck, and tell whoever's left to fall back too. We'll make our stand there."

Eugene and Pitch both indicated their acknowledgement over the comms, but it was Anna's reply that sent a chill of worry amongst the hopelessness. "Negative! I can't find Frost!"

"I'm on my way."


It was official: that night was the worst of Anna's life, or at least ranked highly up there. Probably nestled snugly in between her sister's spontaneous disappearance and her ordeal on the night she bloomed.

In the space of less than a few hours, she had found her sister alive and well after unknowingly attacking her, and wearing the uniform of those they were supposed to run from. Then she had no choice but to refuse the possibility of a reunion with Elsa, despite every fiber of her soul crying out for the familiarity of sisterly love and physical touch.

And to top it off, in the most heartbreaking twist of fate, the woman who Anna looked to as a parental figure with the absence of her real parents was gone. Her soft voice over the comms one second, and static the next...

...followed by the most gut-wrenching sound Anna never wanted to hear for the rest of her life - the anguished roar of Jack's one-word-denial, full of rage and pain and grief. If she wasn't hurting enough before, the pain was altogether magnified by the knowledge that her best friend was in absolute hell; confused, despairing...and enraged. It was his emotional state that fuelled her need to navigate the corridors and link up with each pocket of resistance that were just about holding back the tide, whilst lending a hand with her flames or her knives where she could. As it turned out, her arrival at the second furthest defensive position on the port side - a narrow corridor that led towards the hangar deck - was impeccably timed as the three defenders, two men and a woman, were down to their last few shots and getting ready for fisticuffs. One jet of flame later, and they were boosted with a few of Anna's spare cells and a ton of morale.

Nevertheless, Jack had not left her mind, and so far, no-one had seen him.

Kristoff's voice spoke out from over the comms, sudden enough to make her start as she jogged her way to the final port-side position, head whipping to and fro as she checked every single place a person could hide. "Harvester to team - fall back to the hangar deck, and tell whoever's left to fall back too. We'll make our stand there."

"Negative!" Anna practically yelled in worry, "I can't find Frost!" Like hell would she fall back when he was still out there, alone.

Just as Kristoff indicated he was on his way, she rounded the corner to the last checkpoint. Four remained there, one man and three women, only one of whom still wielding a rifle with the others bent at funny angles on the floor, next to the mass of clone bodies that had ostensibly been bludgeoned to death with them…

...and one or two with the tell-tale patches of ice on their chests.

"Jack…" she breathed.

The male defender turned with a start, fists raised, and instantly relaxed with a heavy sigh of relief when he recognised her. How curious it was that, having stopped by all the other checkpoints that were engaged in a firefight, this one was quiet enough to key up its occupiers. Instinctively, Anna reached behind to the sheaths on her belt and drew her knives.

"Jeez," the man hissed, "I thought you were a clone…"

Anna cocked an eyebrow. "I'll try not to take that personally. Anyway, have you seen Jack? Was he here?"

The rifle-wielding woman chirped up this time, but did not turn around. Rather, she was sensible and kept her attention on the T-junction ahead. "Yeah but...he went that way," she gestured with the weapon toward the empty corridor, "he looked...I dunno, man. Never seen anything like it."

The second woman added her thoughts, "Whatever he heard on the radio sent him berserk. Picked up one of the rifles and just...walked towards them. Didn't give a shit about them returning fire. Only reason it's so quiet is 'cause o' him. Was like he was possessed. What happened?"

Anna's gaze moved up to the corridor, where trooper after trooper lined the floor like some kind of morbid breadcrumb trail. "We lost Neve." she said quietly, her eyes falling.

"Seriously?" the male said, jaw floored, "Shit, no wonder he went off the reservation. Kept yelling something like 'is this what you wanted, Snow Queen? For me to know what it's like?'. Any idea who he's talking about?"

A muscle tensed in Anna's jaw. "It doesn't matter," she said abruptly and curtly enough to cause the man to look taken aback, "what you need to do is pick up what rifles and power cells you can and get back to the hangar deck. If you see Kristoff, tell him where I'm going. "

Almost instantly, the four defenders quickly went further into the corridor and began rifling through the pockets and belts for the small orange cells, with the rifle-less woman berating the man for not thinking to do it earlier, and the man retorting something about Murphy's Law and clones arriving. "And where's that?" The third woman asked, in the middle of contemptuously kicking a clone's leg.

Anna walked off without answering, choosing instead to focus her energies on surefooted steps through clone bodies. Besides, how exactly do you tell someone you're about to try and calm a winter storm?

She thought about it as she drew further and further away from the checkpoint; she had never seen Jack in grief or fly into a rage, beyond receiving the news of their friends' fates at the hand of the Valkyries. Maybe on some level it was the acceptance that it was an occupational hazard, and while it was hard to accept someone's passing in the line of duty, if there was nothing to be done then that was it. Move on, and make the bastards pay when you next get the chance.

But Neve was a civilian; she had only just become proficient in wielding a pistol under Anna's tutelage. She wasn't a soldier - and that meant it was different, especially when it came to his connection with her. That would have made the pain almost too much to bear.

She turned right at the end of the corridor, and felt her breath catch in her throat - something that wasn't solely attributed to the sharp drop in temperature that turned her breath into wispy clouds of vapour. To a degree, she felt her heart clench in horror as, illuminated by a flickering and buzzing light, over a dozen clone soldiers lay lifeless and slumped over the floor, walls and knee-knockers. Some sported patches of ice on their chests and necks, while others were the owners of eight-inch long icicles protruding from their faces, hearts and pretty much anywhere else. Blood sprays coated the wall like grotesque crimson art in addition to pooling on the floor, and the heads of some troopers were not facing where, biologically, they should have been.

For a second, Anna would have wondered if she was trying to find Kozmotis, had it not been for the layer of frost coating the walls and melding with the blood.

Following the lifeless bread crumbs while forcing the images of Jack possibly being captured out of her mind, Anna took the first left turn where the lighting was mercifully far more stable and less inclined to instigate migraines. More bodies adorned the floor like morbid human carpeting, and feeling a rush of self-conscious isolation Anna drew her knives up in a defensive posture, poised and ready to lash out at any enemy that crossed her path.

And one did...albeit unconventionally.

A few yards ahead, grunts and yells preceded a clone flying out of the corridor to her right, harshly impacting the wall and crumpling to the ground. Initially startled, Anna drew her right knife back and made to quickly dart over and finish him off, but then Jack stormed out of the corridor hunched and unstoppable like a force of nature. As the clone struggled to his feet, Jack's hand lashed out and grasped him by the throat - which was where the superior strength of an abnormal was displayed by the soldier being lifted into the air a foot from the ground and pinned against the wall. Frozen in step by the unfolding scene, Anna's gaze moved from the struggling clone to Jack...who wore a mask of hate and rage upon his usually cheeky face. She shivered - whether due to the plummeting temperature or the sight she didn't know. The clone jerked and thrashed against Jack's grip, his attempts to free himself dwindling as the seconds went by - and even a few yards away, Anna could see the creeping of ice around the soldier's neck.

Another clone charged out of the corridor and hit Jack on the shoulder with the butt of his rifle...but the Ghost didn't flinch. Rather, it seemingly did the trick of enraging him further; letting the pinned clone drop with palpable contempt, Jack's left arm lashed out and slapped the rifle aside. As it clattered to the floor, he slammed his elbow into the second clone's helmeted face, grabbed his black vest as he staggered backwards and then began to mercilessly pummel the helmet over, and over, and over again.

"Jack!" Anna found the strength to yell, paralysed by the sheer fury radiating from her friend - but with clenched teeth, roars and grunts, Jack was oblivious to her. His strikes rained down again and again, and soon he was just punching a corpse - the helmet's visor had shattered and the clone had stopped moving fifteen seconds ago.

He was lost in rage, but Anna was never one to back down. Sheathing her blades, she charged forward to the one-sided fray, yelling his name at the top of her voice, but it wasn't until she hooked her arm around the crook of his right elbow and felt the chilly heat of his skin that he finally ceased. His head whipped around. Glaring furiously at her, she could tell that the man whose arm she was hooked around was not himself, simply lost in the spiral of grief and anger.

She met his gaze fearlessly as his chest quickly rose and fell - she was not scared, for as berserk as Jack appeared to be, she knew he would never hurt her. "I think he's dead," she panted, putting all her strength into holding his arm back, "but if you want to waste time turning his head into paste, you go right ahead!"

And then the rage, bit by bit, seemed to fall away from him. His arm relaxed and felt heavy against hers, and a quick glance to his knuckles revealed welts, scratches, tiny shards of a helmet's visor and blood. His face, once taut with fury, reduced itself to confusion and loss - and where he breathed with the fuel of anger, he panted. He looked fucking exhausted.

"Anna…" he murmured, his brows knitting together. It didn't take her being his best friend to know what he was thinking.

"I know, Jack."

"She's gone…"

"I know," she sighed, and quick as a flash unhooked her arm and looped it around his neck to pull him down into a hug. He didn't respond at first with his arms loose at his sides, but felt heavy against her shoulder, like all of his strength and will had left him. "It's okay," she murmured - and that was when he finally fisted the material of the vest on her back and whimpered into her shoulder. "But she wouldn't have wanted to see you like this, would she?"

Jack almost imperceptibly shook his head. "No…"

Anna smiled, her eyes closed. "No. So, you know what? I'm going to ask you the same question you asked me upstairs. Are you with me, Jack?"

She felt the lightest of chuckles against her shoulder. "Yeah. I'm with you."

"Jeez, remind me never to piss you off."

Anna gave Jack one last squeeze before turning to meet Kristoff, who was busy regarding the legions of clone corpses either side of him with a slightly disturbed eye. Glancing back at Jack, she saw how his swollen, reddened eyes shone with shame as he looked down to the floor. "Kristoff…" she said, groaning a reprimand.


"Bear, report."

In the process of stalking the corridors, body hunched and arrow nocked, Merida paused and frowned. How curious. Astrid was the one who asked for an update, not Elsa, and she knew that even without the slightly haughty tones usually belonging to her leader. "I'm on tha port side," she answered.

"Doing?"

"Some of tha clones reported a Ghost goin' berserk. I'm huntin' him." she answered purposely, dodging the inert bodies of clones and abnormal defenders alike. "Where's Snow Queen?"

"Dunno, she's not copying. I sent Goldilocks to go find her. Stay frosty, Bear."

"Copy, over and out." Merida answered.

Voices swam over from the left turn ahead, ones she did not recognise. It must be the Ghost, she realised with anticipation and excitement. Slowly, she crept to the corner and peered around, putting as much of her body out of sight as she could.

Two men, one woman. Frost and Streak stood with their backs to her and...wow, Harvester was huge. Observing them for a few seconds, she heard them talk in hushed tones while Frost looked ashamed from behind. One arrow should do it. Dead centre of the floor between them - the electrical charge should spread from the arrow head and knock them out.

She was down to her last stun arrow so she knew she'd have to be flawless. Then again with a bow and arrow...she was nothing but.


"C'mon, guys. Everyone else has fallen back to the hangar deck. It's time we went too." Kristoff said, standing aside for them to pass.

He waited as Anna immediately hooked her arm around Jack's upper back and under his left shoulder for support. It occurred to him how much Jack looked like hell, as he rested his right arm over Anna's shoulders and practically collapsed against her, although Kristoff felt he shouldn't be so surprised. Straight from a rumoured brawl with Kozmotis into a toe-to-toe fight with two Valkyries, then only a short break before a full-on battle. The guy had been fighting practically non-stop for nearly two hours, and though Anna hadn't been in combat nearly as much, her eyes looked emotionally worn out by what she had seen and experienced. Spiritual exhaustion intensified by a certain family member, technically his sister-in-law.

"You two gonna be okay?" he asked, taking up a position on their six as they moved past.

"Yeah. We just need a hot shower, square meal and some sleep, I think." Anna answered. Ever the optimist. "Where's Eugene and Koz?"

Kristoff glanced behind him before answering. "Koz is moving the Fairy into position, and Eugene is making sure those of us who're left are set up before he moves our projectile weapons onto the Fairy. Unity's quiet at the moment, but I reckon they're massing for the final charge."

Anna's steps slowed as they passed the door to the barber's, and when she spoke her voice was laced with sombre softness. "How many of us are left?"

Kristoff exhaled deeply and solemnly. Just over three hundred souls lived aboard the Star twelve hours ago, now they were down to, "Fifteen," he said tonelessly, "not counting the team. We've got a pretty good defense set up, but-" he continued, but just as he glanced behind him once more his heart shot into his mouth, and he yelled, "VALKYRIE!"

His reaction was instantaneous, born of the instinct to protect both his precious wife and his second-in-command from the bow-wielding Valkyrie at the far end of the corridor behind them. His hands lashed out and wrenched open the barbers' door hard enough to yank it from its hinges, and put it between him and the attacking Valkyrie. Something metallic impacted against the door with a thud, preceding what was quite possibly the most painful experience in his life - an electric charge with enough voltage to put down an ordinary person. He groaned out the jerking of his body behind the door, the searing fire of pain travelling through his nerves and uncontrollably contracting his muscles.

"Kristoff!" Anna yelled in panic as he dropped to his knees, growling his pain through gritted teeth and a scrunched brow.

What this soldier...this Valkyrie failed to grasp, though, was that though he was gentle and tender, he was the strongest of his kind. He was the toughest. And there was no way in hell that he would be taken down by a mere arrow.

"Go," he snarled through his teeth, glaring at Anna to make sure she understood and, for once, listened, "She's mine."

Merida hissed a curse. She missed again. She failed to anticipate Harvester's reaction speed, and paid for it with her arrow embedding itself in the door...that he practically ripped from the wall. First Pitch Black, and now this joker. Still, the trick arrow had enough juice in it to knock out a clone trooper, so there was no reason that Harvester would be any different - though she made a mental note, as the door's bottom touched the floor, never to mention her second instance of a missed shot to Rapunzel.

She drew another arrow from the quiver on her back and nocked it, drawing it back to the bow's full length. Feeling the string's intense desire to be freed, she waited for the inevitable point where the would-be shieldsman would fall to the floor, so she could hamstring one of the other two.

But then, slowly, the door rose. "What the hell…" she hissed. No way. There was no way in the name of all the synthohol her father made that he was still standing. She stepped to the side in an attempt to try and catch Frost and Streak behind him, but the door's slightly askew position rendered that impossible. "Damn it…" she snapped.

Then a chill of fear shot through her spine when Harvester, wielding the door like a riot shield, began to charge towards her. Twenty yards away. She loosed the arrow, hearing the thwip as it sailed through the air and...bounced off the 'shield'. Fifteen yards - she quickly nocked another arrow aimed under the door and let fly with that one, hoping to bounce it off the floor into his leg and bring him down. There was a yell of pain as the projectile met its mark...but he was not slowed. Rather, he seemed to run faster.

Ten yards...and in the most peculiar instance of imitation and flattery, Harvester evidently decided to repay her in kind by drawing the door above his head and literally flinging it at her. Her eyes widened, and with a shriek of panic she dropped to her knees and leaned back just as the bottom of the door passed across her vision, and embedded itself with an ear-splitting, vicious clang into the wall behind her. Panting in fright, she stared paralysed at the middle of the door six inches above her, trying not to think about how close she came to having her head torn off by something you use to get in and out of a room.

Gasping a sharp breath when her mind yelled at her to move, she rolled to the right and scrambled to her feet, ignoring the slight pain in her legs from the impromptu drop to the floor. Nocking another arrow, she waited until Harvester appeared around the corner before loosing the arrow into his upper left arm just as he reached for the impaled door. She heard him hiss in pain and saw his right hand shoot up to pull it out, but what sent a chill through her spine, that made her severely doubt her chances of survival in this battle were two things: one; his expression of indignant fury as he glanced between the arrow and her, and two; the arrow's tip barely penetrated half an inch, judging by the lack of blood. How tough was this guy?

"Not smart," he growled as he wrenched the door from the wall. Merida was quickly starting to get that impression.

Yells preceded the arrival of three clones directly across from her. "Take him down," one of them shouted an order, and all three quickly levelled their rifles.

Harvester, unfortunately for them, was quicker. Frozen what had just happened, Merida watched helplessly as he used the door to shield himself and charged at them much the same way. Unlike her, the first soldier was not quick enough - Harvester literally crushed him in a spray of crimson between the door-shield and the wall, and promptly flung it at the two clones that did manage to move in time - Merida almost threw up in her mask at the sight of a mass of crimson, bone and other things she did not want to identify on the wall, and the subsequent image of two clones being sliced in two at the waist by a flying door.

Now there was nothing to distract the walking monstrosity from her. Gripped by fight-or-flight, her breaths approaching terrified, she hastily loosed another arrow at him, praying that it would be the one to stop him. Kill him, if necessary. This man was dangerous, strong, and striding towards her. The arrow embedded itself in his shoulder. He did not stop. She backed away, nocking another arrow and loosing it without aiming, which hit him square in the chest over his heart. Still, he advanced, his face taut with determination and his steps regular. Merida uttered a strangled sound as she practically ran backwards loosing one, two, three arrows in quick succession, each one finding their mark, barely piercing his skin, useless in her need to bring him down.

She nocked one more arrow and prepared to send that one on the next futile journey, but Harvester had gained too much ground, and was practically on top of her. Squeaking in shock as her bow was wrenched from her grasp, she watched in horror as he snapped it in two with merely one hand, and tossed it aside.

"Heartseeker…" she breathed as she stared at the broken remnants of her weapon, feeling like a part of her had been ripped away.

There came a surge of righteous vengeance within her heart - she was supposed to be brave. Fearless. She wasn't supposed to be seconds away from quailing before a mere man. After all, every single one she had ever shot at, or competed against quickly found out why she was the best at her craft. Drawing the left side of her trench coat away, she drew her sword, raised it high above her right shoulder and brought it down at his neck with all her strength...

...and then casually, effortlessly, Harvester's arm swung up and blocked it. With his left hand.

Merida's heart plummeted toward the twisting that used to be her stomach. She glanced between her sword and his face, still indignant, but almost bored. The blade of her sword had barely nicked the side of his hand...sure, there was blood, but no more than one would expect from a paper cut. Worse still, her strike had been stopped well before its apex.

His right hand reached out to grasp the blade, and having felt her strength disappear along with the colour in her face, Merida could not prevent it from being pulled from her hands, nor could she stop him from snapping the sword in two right before her eyes with a metallic, sickening clink.

He tossed aside the broken blade and advanced. Weaponless, strengthless and alone, Merida slowly stumbled backwards, her hands instinctively reaching up to try and calm the juggernaut. "Wait...please…" she pleaded, "ye don't have tae do this…"

Her left heel connected with something hard. Losing her footing, Merida's world - such as it was - went topsy turvy as she fell backwards and impacted the floor with a heavy thud. Pain blossomed in her upper back as well as her elbows and the back of her head, something she barely even registered as Harvester was now standing over her, breathing heavily. She scrambled backwards on her hands and heels, a pointless effort as she felt the sharp press of something shelf-like in the back of her neck. Quickly darting her head around...she realised she had been forced into a stock closet. Her head whipped back up to Harvester, who stood over her with his fists clenched.

Oh well, at least it would be quick.

"You're right," Harvester said, wincing slightly. "I don't have to do it. And luckily for you, my team has a rule that forbids us from killing anyone unless we're under immediate threat of death - and lady, you were never a threat-"

Merida would have been offended, had it not been completely true.

He then ripped the closet door cleanly from its hinges. Merida, sensing her end, screwed her eyes shut and prayed it would be over soon - at least she would be relieved of the urge to visit the toilet. She gasped sharply as a piercing clang echoed throughout the small room, forcing her to shoot her hands up to her hood-covered ears and groan away the ringing pain in her eardrums.

"-but that doesn't mean you get to run around my ship, hurting the people I care about." he growled.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and relief mixed itself with anxiety; sure, she had not been bisected by the door as she thought would happen, but what Harvester had accomplished was jam the door into the floor a quarter of the way. "Stick around," he quipped before turning and disappearing from the gap above the top of the door.

She heard him mutter "Ack, that smarts…" as his footsteps receded, accompanied by the thin clatter of her arrows hitting the floor as he walked away. Carefully, she rose to her feet and peered over the door, and uttered a ragged sigh of relief when she watched him round the corner out of sight, tossing away the last blood-tipped arrow.

It was then that whatever strength and will remained in her, left in that instant. Her legs gave way as she slid down the door frame. Crossing her arms at her knees, she buried her head in her forearms and, for the first time in years, a chill gripped her spine at the knowledge that she threw everything she had at this man, and he just didn't stop. For the first time since she picked up a bow...she was beaten.

Not only that, but she was trembling. Her body was practically shaking under her head.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Merida knew the true taste of fear.


The scent of the Atlantic infused the cold air of the hangar deck, tickling Jack's nose every time he inhaled as he sat cross-legged behind one of the cover crates while Anna tended to his hand. It was actually quite useful to distract himself, focusing instead on the heavily salted air rather than the sharp, irritating pains as she carefully removed the pieces of helmet-visor from his knuckles.

Illuminated by the dull, ugly yellow artificial light high above them, Anna gently removed one of the bigger shards from his middle knuckle with a pair of silver tweezers, but a sharp twinge caused him to suck in a breath and flinch away. Which then prompted her to huff, hands on her hips and all. "Do you want these shards to get even further into your skin?" she said reprimandingly.

Jack averted his eyes, feeling thoroughly scolded by the stern woman. "Not particularly."

She practically yanked his hand back and returned to her ministrations, aiming for a particularly big shard in his middle finger. "Then stop acting like a whiny child and let me finish. Yeesh, this is the same guy that had stitches in his back with no anaesthetic, and he's having trouble with a few little bits of plastic in his itty-bitty hand." she said, mockingly.

"Yeah, well, pain tolerance is a little low - but thanks for your sympathy. It's appreciated." Jack said with a low sarcastic grumble. Anna giggled under her breath as she pinched the last shard in between his third and fourth knuckle, and Jack fought every impulse to recoil when she pulled it out - though he did allow himself a hissed curse. Something that, as he arrived and knelt behind the tended-to Ghost, Eugene found amusing.

"Jack being a little girl again?" he chuckled.

"You have any injuries you need me to see to?" Anna said in a low, menacing voice as she pulled out a bandage and some antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit beside her. When Eugene shook his head, she cocked an eyebrow. "Would you like some?"

Eugene rose his hands before him in surrender. "No thanks. I like my pretty face the way it is."

"Who said it would be your face? After all, we wouldn't want to break your smoulder." she said, glaring

Again, Jack found that he was having difficulty keeping his hand still as she bandaged him, though it was more out of laughter than anything else. Anna kept a firm grip of his hand as she looped the material round and round. "You know," he said wistfully, "there are times when I can't remember what it was like before you joined, Anna."

"S'cause I'm awesome," she replied nonchalantly as she tied off the bandage. Moving his head with one hand, she proceeded to pull out a few wipes from the packet and cleaned the dry blood around the cut on his cheek, "after all, I'm the best there is at patching up you idiots."

"Hey!" Jack protested, "I used to do my own patching!", but when Anna cocked her head and gave him a look that danced between 'yeah, right' and patronising, he grudgingly amended, "it wasn't good, but still…anyway, why aren't you patching Kristoff?"

"For one, Kristoff's skin and muscles are way too dense for him to be hurt by anything less than a harpoon. Second, like I said, s'cause I'm awesome." she said dismissively.

"She's got you there, buddy." Eugene chuckled. "Anyway, Kristoff found this on the floor and told me to give this to you."

Jack's eyes flicked down to the scout's open hand, and whatever good cheer there was in the brief moment of peace disappeared when he recognised precisely what the red loop of material was - Neve's headband. His heart clenched with a dull ache, and found it increasingly hard to swallow. Even Anna stopped cleaning his cheek, her eyes too falling on the accessory. A heavy, pregnant silence fell between the warrior trio, each one reminded of what - or rather, who, they had lost. "She was a good person, Jack," Eugene said softly as he squeezed his shoulder for support, "Be proud of her."

Jack scoffed hollowly. "I am, Eugene." he said, carefully taking the headband, "but that doesn't change how badly I want her back."

"We all do, Jack." Anna said softly, squeezing his unharmed hand.

Bereft of what to say, silence fell between the three of them once more - Anna had finished patching him up, while Jack was simply lost in memory, and Eugene was silent simply because he had been there before. It wasn't long, though, before Kristoff's voice resonated through the hangar deck from near the entrance doors. "Look alive, they're coming!" he called as he quickly made his way over to the set of crates to the right of the room, and took position next to a rather murderous-looking Kozmotis.

The Ghosts and the remaining fifteen defenders buzzed with activity, each one moving to kneel behind the crates and level their rifles at the empty doorways. Tiredly, Jack pushed himself to his knees, and lifted his stun rifle from its place of leaning against the long ammunition crate. Sighing, he pulled out the power cell to check its juice level before clipping it back in, and hooked his arm around the rifle so he could loop the headband around his right wrist.

Then he had a thought, more of a memory. Something he found boring at the time, but wholly - and morale-boosting-ly - relevant in their current predicament. His rifle held upright and on his hip, he asked, "You guys heard of Charon?" Knelt either side of him, Eugene and Anna shook their heads while indicating their lack of knowledge.

"Few years ago, I was bored and decided to hang around one of Koz's lessons. It was about Greek mythology - when someone died, a coin would be placed on their mouth as payment for Charon to take their soul across the River Styx to the underworld."

Anna frowned, and shifted in her position of kneeling. "What made you think of that?"

Jack smiled a determined smile, and turned his gaze to the leftmost doorway. "If Neve needs to pay the boatman, well, then Unity owes her a debt." Shouldering his rifle, he caught sight of a clone's foot descending the steps.

"And I'm gonna collect."


"Commander?"

Hans turned to the comms officer, the one who had been monitoring the Alliance communications ever since the Hammer's arrival, and regarded him patiently with both hands behind his back. Drago even turned his massive frame too, though neglected to rise from his chair. "Yes, officer?" Hans asked gently.

"Sir, ever since we lost the signal dish it has been difficult to listen out for Alliance communications thanks to the Dead Zone - but I did hear something a few minutes ago, after clearing up the interference." the officer explained. Hans said nothing, but drew his hand to gesture for the man to continue. "Sir, the Alliance have been alerted to our position."

Hans' stomach clenched, and his heart skipped a beat. He exchanged glances with Drago, though did not expect any form of concern and thus received none. "Do they know it's us?"

"No, sir," the officer shook his head, allowing Hans to breathe the sigh of relief he had been holding, "but they have dispatched a scouting fleet of two destroyers and one battleship to investigate."

"When will they be in visual range of us?" Drago asked, folding his arms. That gesture alone seemed to unnerve and chase away any confidence in the poor officer.

Answering shakily, the man said, "Um...thirty to forty-five minutes, sir."

Well, that was that. Admittedly, Hans would have preferred to stay a little longer, but the Alliance had made the decision to leave for him, and if they lingered there was every chance that the Hammer's secrecy - such as it was, for a flying behemoth - would be discovered. "Return to your post, officer."

"Thank you, sir." he said quickly and gratefully, before scurrying back to the communications interface.

Hans turned to Drago, clapped his hands together and spoke as loudly as possible while keen to not be overly theatrical about it - mostly for the benefit of the crew. "Well, as much as I have enjoyed our impromptu test of the Hammer's capabilities, unfortunately all things must come to an end. Captain, I suggest you bring the ship about for the return journey. Tactical officer?"

Hans turned his head just as the young man at the holo-table stiffened, and waited expectantly. "Status on the battle?"

"Our troops have been bottlenecked at the entrance to the hangar deck, sir. The resistance isn't budging. According to Alpha Four-Three, that entrance is the only way in." he explained matter-of-factly.

Tactically, it made sense. With only one entrance, the abnormals could focus their fire and make it incredibly difficult, if not impossible for the troops to gain a foothold in the room. After all, it was a tactic that had served them well in the first few moments of the battle.

Yet, one would think they would have learned to be mindful of history repeating itself. "Then we'll open another door. Signal the Valkyries and recall them to the Hammer, and then I want one of our Einherjars currently wasting time chasing the creature to peel off and ram the enemy vessel's port-side door. Our troops can use that to flank the abnormals. Hopefully we can capture some before we have to leave. Do you understand?"

The slender tactical officer clacked his boots together and stiffened to the point that he was perfectly perpendicular to the floor and an acceptable substitute for a spirit level. "Yes, sir!" he answered loudly, before turning to the table and pushing a button at its very edge to begin issuing Hans' orders to the Valkyries. Hans then turned back to Drago, and leaned in so his voice could be heard by only the captain.

"That ship is over a century old, and she's been living on borrowed time for far too long. She's wounded, so as soon as we are in position and the starboard cannon is ready, I want you to open fire and put her out of her misery." he ordered quietly.

Evidently Drago was being either slow, overly curious, or had suddenly grown a moral backbone. "What about all your clone troops aboard?"

Hans gave him a funny look. "Does it look like I care? You know what needs to be done, Captain. When the Alliance arrive, I want to leave them with nothing but a dead ship and a dead way of life."


"This is the Hammer to all Valkyries - return to base. I repeat, return to base."

Astrid barely registered the command to recall them back to the ship, so busy was she in staring at a doll resting in her palm, enduring a sensation of iron-heavy nausea in her stomach. It was only a little thing, barely the size of her hand, made of thick cotton with two black buttons for eyes, brown wool for hair and a faded red triangle of material to constitute her dress. It was quiet where she was, inside a room which had apparently been designated...as a kindergarten. With the troopers funnelling directly towards the steps descending into the hangar deck, it left her in a strange state of isolation where she could stare at the doll and wonder...just how many children had been on this ship? Had they escaped prior to the Hammer's arrival? She had heard chatter of ships being launched at blistering speeds somewhere at the battle's beginning; she didn't know if the talk was true, but she hoped...she prayed that they were spiriting away the children. That there were no little eyes to witness the violence and destruction.

If she were to be asked later, her answer would be that she did not know why she slipped the small doll into the inner breast pocket of her trench coat. Maybe it was a reminder of her youth, of the lack of love forcing her to grow up independently, eschewing dolls for playground brawls. Maybe it was a strange form of physical proof that, again, Unity lied and that the abnormals weren't a threat to society, but simply a people trying to survive.

Or maybe it was to serve as a reminder of that night, of the systematic eradication of the abnormal resistance...and her part in it. The guilt chewing at her heart, embodied in that little doll.

She swallowed thickly as she patted the doll so it was nice and secure in her pocket, and forced herself to return to the present. Elsa had not instantly responded to the Hammer's recall order, so as dictated by the chain of command the duty to respond fell to her. "This is Valkyrie Second Hofferson - understood, we are returning to base."

She turned back the way she came, where she thought the corridors to the flight deck were, and radioed Rapunzel. "Goldilocks, did you find Snow Queen?"

Her response was immediate. "Yeah. We heard the recall order, so we're on our way back to the Valhalla." Astrid immediately questioned Elsa's current state, to which Rapunzel replied, "She's a little shaken. Found her in their mess hall, I think she found her sister. Says she's fine, though."

Astrid felt the chill of worry, of peculiar concern in her mind. Elsa was a stuck-up, haughty bitch in her honest opinion, so whatever happened in the mess hall must have been big to shake that usually icy demeanour enough for her to forget to respond to the Hammer. "Okay, see you at the Valhalla. Bear, you copy?"

However, where she expected Merida's accented tones, she received nothing but silence. Not a single word, "Bear, are you there?", sound, "Viking to Bear, do you copy?", or breath. The chill of concern became outright stomach-churning worry - had she run afoul of Pitch?

So distracted was she on Merida's lack of reply that she forgot to keep track of where she was going, and chose turns at random. With the pipes that adorned the ceiling splitting off in different directions, and sometimes through the walls themselves, coupled with the dim lights that flickered to an unsettling, headache-inducing degree - thank you Valkyrie goggles, designed to mitigate things such as that - and the fact that the entire damn ship was a damn maze, Astrid found herself completely lost at a T-junction. Turning on her feet, her head darting every which way, she saw a set of directions painted on the wall - which would have been useful if she was looking for the officer's quarters or the ship's exercise gym. Hence, about as useful as a chocolate fireguard.

The anxiety in her heart began to deepen, and in her mind she began searching for other options whilst rebuking Merida for not reporting her position earlier. It was typical Merida; when she was on the hunt, she became blinkered to all else but the target. Fantastic quality for a sniper or an assassin, but not that good for a team member. "Hofferson to base, come in?" she said, swallowing the bitter taste of her pride and seeking Unity's help.

"Hammer receiving," came the garbled answer from the floating monstrosity - Astrid frowned further, still curious as to why the transmission quality went from sharp one moment to heavily distorted when they issued the recall orders.

"I don't have eyes on Bear, and I don't recognise where I am. Mind guiding me?"

"Copy, directions incoming," the tactical officer answered, and a few seconds later launched into a set of directions spoken into her ear, like a map-reading spirit on her shoulder.


Kristoff once reckoned that every abnormal had a shared gift - trash-talking. Even as the defense was crumbling, every single defender tossed forth insults, jeers, criticisms and acerbic jabs at the clone soldiers' parentage as they ducked pulse bolts whilst sending hundreds back in return. His particular favourite was issued by one of the women that had previously given him directions to find Anna - "Oh man, your mama could shoot better than you! Wait, you don't have a mama!" - partly because it was hilarious, but equally amusing when the woman was the recipient of a rather stern glare from Anna. Luckily Jack saw the humour, laughing as he achieved several headshots in succession and subsequently yelling "now that's how you're supposed to shoot!"

But the defense was crumbling, no matter how many times the length of the clone soldiers' genitalia was questioned. Sure, the troopers were falling like leaves, but they just kept coming. Numberless. An unstoppable onslaught of black-clothed mindless soldiers spewing forth bolts of blue that missed ninety-five percent of the time - but the remaining five percent hurt. Fifteen defenders became fourteen. Twelve became eleven, and every time one of the valiant defenders fell backwards after being hit in the face by a stun bolt and collapsed to the floor, the clatter of their rifle on the asphalt was a thunderclap. Every time he would share a sombre, pessimistic glance with Kozmotis to his right.

Ducking behind the crate, he ejected an empty power cell, tossed it at the enemy soldiers with enough force to drive it into the chest of a hapless clone, and produced a final one from his utility vest. Taking a moment, he cast his eyes around the hangar deck - for years, the Star had been their home, had supported and nourished over a thousand people, refusing to succumb to the ravages of time or the hate of the world she sailed in. She had hid them, protected them, gave them a chance to survive. In a way, she was a part of the family as any abnormal...and so he whispered, "Thank you."

He turned to the left and took a deep breath, ready to order the final retreat to the Fairy, and the evacuation of the Ghosts and any they could take with them from the dying ship.


"I think I'm gonna throw up." Astrid said, and promptly heaved behind her mask.

Left and then a right were the final directions from the tactical officer, who explained that Astrid should be right on top of Merida as soon as she took the final turn. What he failed to mention - not that he would have known, of course - was that what Astrid was truly on top of was a huge pool of blood spread over the corridor floor, two soldiers that had been bisected by...a door, judging by the crimson streaking down one end, and the explosion of claret on the wall furthest to the left above the messy remains of what used to be a third soldier. A third...currently drastically thinner soldier.

Bloodbath was a term that Astrid had heard flying around once or twice and even used herself, but the sight of three bodies sprawled over the blood-covered floor was the first thing that did the term justice. The icing on the cake was the coppery, nausea-inducing smell; for all the joys of the rebreather units integrated into the mask, while excellent for filtering toxins and harmful gases they were useless at preventing the acrid stench from antagonising her nostrils.

She tried to focus her attention away from the bloody scene of violence. With one hand covering the mouthplate of her mask and extending her left arm out for balance, she navigated through the sprawling, bisected bodies whilst taking great care not to slip. So far her stomach was doing admirably at keeping her dinner on the premises, but it probably wouldn't appreciate her falling and landing in the crimson pool. Slowly, she rounded the corner - and saw something most peculiar under the flickering lights.

A door, where it should be but not positioned how it should be. Jammed into the ground a quarter of the way. Cocking her head and frowning, she looked around the site of the oddity…

"Merida!"

...and that was when she saw the broken bow.

Doing away with her prior care, she rushed forth whilst miraculously staying upright despite a couple of stumbles, leaving bloody boot prints to where she ducked down and picked up the two halves of Heartseeker, connected solely by a useless bowstring. Shifting her weight, she stepped on something metallic with her right boot, and when she looked down in curiosity she saw yet another weapon of Merida's in two halves...her sword. Right in front of the strangely-planted door.

"Merida, where are you?" she called out. Hoping, praying for a response.

Mercifully, to the skip of her heart and a sigh of relief, she received a slightly muffled one. "I'm here, lass."

Astrid dropped the bow and pressed herself against the door to peer over, and felt a pulse of worry emanate from her churning stomach when she saw her team-mate, sat in what looked like a dark stock closet with her legs arched and her head in her arms. "Been looking everywhere for you! You okay?" Astrid asked quickly and with deep concern, especially due to the sight of her shaking.

"No."

"What happened?" Astrid asked, rapt.

"I…" Merida began, but shook her head. Undeterred, Astrid pressed her friend for answers. "He t-t-took everythin' I h-had...and just k-kept comin'. Nothing I d-did made any difference...and w-when he...those c-clones…"

"Pitch?" It seemed to be his M.O, or at least that was the vibe Astrid got from the violent Ghost.

"No. Harvester."

Astrid grimaced, and let loose a sigh that carried with it her incredulity. "You picked a fight with Harvester? Fuck, I'm surprised you're still alive! The guy's as tough as a tank and hits like a walking hover freight-train!"

"Yeah well I didnae know that, did I?" Merida snapped angrily, her masked head shooting up to meet Astrid. "Snow Queen didnae show me tha holo-videos!"

"She did, Mer. You just fell asleep."

Merida scoffed - thankfully, the shaking seemed to have stopped. Astrid knew her friend well enough to know that it wasn't just her spectacular one-sided defeat that had shaken her to the core, nor was it how close she came to a violent and grisly end. It was that she had cultivated a sense of arrogance and cockiness when it came to ranged weapons, regularly hitting the bullseyes with little effort and attaining maximum scores on the firing range. Factor all her competitors and targets being men, and Astrid knew that she had engendered a sense of superiority, too. So then along came a man who completely deconstructed and destroyed that self-belief and self-confidence in what looked like a very short time.

Put simply, Harvester didn't just take Merida down a peg. He humbled her.

"You're lucky to be alive, Red."

She chuckled bitterly as she rose to her feet, awkwardly and tiredly. "Don't I know it. Only reason he didnae paint tha walls with ma blood is they have a rule against killing. S'why I was trapped in here."

"Almost makes you think they have honor," Astrid said darkly, remembering a certain Ghost and how close she came to death, "though I guess Pitch didn't get the memo. Anyway, we've been recalled. Let's get you out of here."

Astrid stepped back and gave the embedded door a quick once-over. It was wedged too deeply to simply be pulled back, so her only choice was to lift it. Gripping the sides of the door, Astrid promptly put all her strength into pulling the door up, grunting and holding her breath with the exertion. Her arm muscles went taut, screaming obscenities at her for daring to put them through more work, and her fingertips sent blossoms of pain through her already aching wrists with how tightly she grasped the door.

But it was no use. Save for the occasional light scraping of metal that set her clenched teeth on edge, the door didn't budge an inch. Panting her breath, Astrid released her hands and stood back, glaring angrily at it.

"S'no good. Harvester wedged this thing in but tight."

"Go, then." her friend replied, "I'll be fine. Maybe he'll come back fer me."

Astrid peered over the door and shot her friend a reprimanding glare, useless behind two masks. "Like hell I will, Red. I'm not leaving you behind. Just...means I have to get creative."

Merida's frown was audible, as well as her confusion. "What do ye mean?"

Astrid cast several glances to her left and behind her, checking, double checking, and triple checking she was not being observed by abnormal nor clone. "You know what."

Merida gasped. "Are ye crazy? What if they see ye?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Astrid snapped. When Merida issued no such reply, "I thought not. Stand back."

Her friend did as she was told. Astrid stepped forward once more, and gripped the sides of the door in exactly the same places...and for the first time in years, a buzzing rushed forth from her chest to her fingertips. The door began to vibrate, rattling against the metal floor like a whirring drill resting against a cooking pan. Clenching her teeth, Astrid continued channeling vibrations through her hands as she put all her strength into her legs and arms, lifting as hard as she could - and slowly, dislodged by the tremors coursing through her hands, the door crept upwards inch by inch.

Soon enough the door came loose. Panting with breath, Astrid pulled it to her right and let it fall with a head-rattling clatter. Freed from her dark prison, Merida surged to embrace the exhausted woman, who was practically slumping against the wall in a thankful hug.

"Hell of a risk ye took there, lass. Thank ye."

Astrid waved a dismissive hand. "Don't mention it. Seriously." Pulling away, she bent down to pick up the remnants of Heartseeker before adding, "Anyway, it's time we got the hell out of here. I'm done."


His ears ringing, the only thing Jack could immediately feel, and was acutely aware of was pain. His hands, arms, legs...hell, nearly every part of his body was screaming bloody murder. Whether it was a stabbing, aching, dull or burning pain, or a combination thereof, he felt it.

Forcing his eyes open by instinct, he slowly but surely came back to reality, and involuntarily tried to push through the muggy haze of his mind to recall precisely why he suddenly found himself on his back, with the asphalt floor of the hangar deck biting into the back of his skull and his ears filled with a muddy, indiscernible sonic haze. The muffled sound of agonised screaming, panicked shouting, and little booms that mingled together. He tried to distinguish the voices, to work out what they were saying, but his disorientation made it impossible.

As he blinked over and over again his vision began to sharpen, the blurred waters of his sight receding to reveal a white ceiling with a pipework system directly above him, an amber glow somewhere to his right, and the occasional flash of blue mingling with the amber. It was the smell, though, that was the most acute and untouched by his mild concussion - the acrid scent of smoke, coupled with the stench of burning flesh.

Groaning, he struggled to roll onto his side and became distinctly aware of a stabbing pain in his chest, which somehow seemed to jumpstart his memory; the last thing he remembered was being ten feet behind Anna as they sprinted to the Fairy, with the sounds of pulse fire behind them and the occasional blue bolt zipping past their heads. He had then heard Hiccup's panicked yell of something about the bow port door, and not a second later his vision had become white. An unstoppably powerful force had thrown him like a ragdoll into the air, leading to the complete disorientation he was enduring.

It was when his vision focused that he noticed something, a humanoid shape limping towards him, their gait weighing heavily on their left side. Dazed and sluggish, he felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around his upper arm and yank him to his feet, and came face to face with the panicked, blackened, wide-eyed face of Anna.

"Jack!" she yelled, or he thought she did as his ears were still ringing, " you okay?"

He had no idea how to answer that.

Slowly, he turned his head back towards the site of the battle in the strange, instinctive need for his brain to understand precisely what had happened to cause such disorientation and pain. When he did, however, the mental sluggishness instantly receded and he wished he had ignored his gut feeling.

The bow port door wore a gaping hole, and strewn in front of it from one end of the hangar to the other were the remains of whatever had punched through the heavy steel doors like they were paper - an Einherjar fighter, judging by the gashed and torn fuselage on its side against the opposite wall, curved wings that had been ripped away from the main body and the smashed cockpit screen. Fires raged halfway to the ceiling, melding with the wall of flame Anna had created to cover their escape, so hot that even stood nowhere near the blaze, Jack could still feel its heat on his cheek. Quickly it dawned on him - the Einherjar had rammed the doors in a kamikaze run in a horrific way to create a second entrance so as to flank them...but it did so much more than that.

Bodies of abnormal and clone alike, motionless and lifeless, were strewn across the asphalt in physical positions no human should ever see. Some were no longer whole - the body of one defender was near the fuselage, while his head was halfway between it and the ruptured door. Blood adorned the asphalt in streaks.

Of the ten or so remaining defenders at the time of their staggered retreat...three remained.

"Come on," Anna said hurriedly, and pulled on his arm, "we have to go!"

"Yeah…" Jack breathed, "go...right…"

Anna darted off. Following, Jack cast one glance back just as three clones emerged through the flames, the first walking up to one of the defenders as she crawled - her left leg was missing below the knee, probably sheared off by flying shrapnel - and coldly shooting her in the back.

"Go! Flynn's been hit, but I'll be right behind you!" he heard Kristoff shout, or thought he did, at least.

Turning back, Jack renewed his limped sprint to the Fairy waiting patiently at the open stern starboard door, but then his eyes fell upon another defender ahead, just off to the left. Wincing, he slowed his pace much to the cheering of his left leg, and as though guided he made his way over to the woman sprawled on the asphalt deck. She was still moving, but weakly, and a shard of metal the size of his arm protruded from her abdomen. For the first time in his life, Jack was too shocked and horrified to speak. She stared at him with wide hazel eyes, terrified. Confused. He knelt down beside her, all knowledge of what to do or say escaping him. Blood seeped from the right corner of her mouth as she valiantly struggled to lift her head to see him better. Paralysed and oblivious to the bolts zipping over his head, he did nothing as her hand moved up to his face, trembling, and as her fingertips touched his left eyebrow her eyes rolled back into her head when what little life she had left her. Those same fingers slipped down across to his cheek, leaving what churned his stomach to realise were two thin trails of blood.

"Come on!" Anna yelled from the embarkation ramp, panicked and frustrated. Overcome by survival instinct, especially since a bolt of blue came a little too close for comfort, Jack scrambled to his feet and quickly limped to the Fairy. Anna's arm shot out as he reached the ramp, grasping his outstretched hand and roughly yanking him up. A glance to the cockpit revealed Kozmotis in the pilot's seat, his back to him as he worked quickly and furiously to wrap the safety harness around him. Anna darted past the two crates of Third War pistols and rifles, taking the passenger seat nearest the circular red button for closing and opening the ramp. She motioned with an impatient and expectant head to the seat by her side while she looped the harness over her shoulders. Using the crates to steady his footing, hissing in pain Jack sidled over and immediately dropped down into the seat before proceeding to secure himself. Now it was just a matter of the final two - his heart thundering in his chest so hard he thought it would break the ribcage, he exchanged tense glances with Anna just as Kozmotis pushed the lever forward and the Fairy's engines roared into life, muffled slightly by the hull.

"Everybody secure? Is my wife on board?" he heard Kristoff's voice ring out over the Fairy's intercom system. Kozmotis glanced over his shoulder at Anna.

"Yes. Waiting on you." Kozmotis answered.

"Negative, I need you to go now! Do you copy?" Kristoff yelled.

"What?!" Anna said, eyes wide, "No! No, we're staying right here!"

"Anna's right - we're not leaving you behind!" Jack yelled.

"That's why I'm making the decision for you." Kristoff countered.

Jack had about two seconds to frown at the determination in his superior's voice before the Fairy violently shot forward, throwing him sharply to the right with enough force for the straps to nearly fracture a rib and for Anna to thud into his left side - and the briefest of glances in among the stomach-lurching inertia out of the opposite porthole yielded not the Star's hull...but black sky.

It then hit him squarely in the gut what Kristoff had done, and as he exchanged fearful glances of realisation with Anna...she knew too.

"No…" she breathed, barely audible above the roar of the air rushing in through the open ramp, "no, no-no-no!" She twisted to face Kozmotis, and yelled "Turn this ship around!"

"Belay that, Pitch, that's an order!" Kristoff snapped. "Get as far away as you can! You take that ship, you take my wife and you get out of here! Come back and we all-"

"No!" Anna cried, and instantly tried to unbuckle her safety harness, fumbling with the red button connecting all four straps. Jack's heart shot into his mouth, and with far greater grace despite the panic coursing through his veins at both Kristoff staying behind and Anna's intent, he unclipped himself just in time to jump up and hold Anna back with his right arm, and held onto the ceiling rigging with his left. She strained against him, mindless with anxiety and terror, clawing at his arm as she tearfully shrieked, "Let me go! Get the hell off me, we need to save him! We need to go back!"

It took all the strength Jack had left and even some he didn't know he had to hold Anna back from diving out of the open space. He glanced out of the back, and watched how the Star grew smaller the further they flew, wounded by the four fires raging on her deck. Anna wriggled and strained against him, her cries to go back broken by emergent sobs.

"Sweetheart, can you hear me?" Kristoff quickly asked.

Anna's struggles started losing their strength as she listened, and instead of just holding her back Jack was also holding her up. "I can hear you…" she whimpered weakly.

"I love you so much…"

"Kristoff-"

"I love y-"

There was a split second where time stood still and a single moment became an eternity; a dazzling blue beam shot forth from the Hammer's side and punched through the Star like a knife through butter, practically impaling her in a pillar of light. Anna jumped back in fright as a blinding white light and a thunderous roar filled the passenger hold, and though Jack had to squint and turn his head away, he could easily make out with horror the sight of their home splitting apart in an explosion that surely made the heavens tremble. His heart froze and plummeted, but he could not look away - and there was no other feeling in his body but numbness and stunned horror.

And no other sound in his earpiece...but static.

Of the two, Anna was the one to react first. She screamed and screamed her denial and her husband's name, renewing her straining against Jack's arm with less determination and more feral grief, mindless and intent on joining her husband. She struggled and pushed, her shrieks dwindling into choked sobs, and as the Fairy drew further and further from the dead vessel she collapsed to her knees and fell against him. Jack felt her claw against his tank top and weep into the fabric, her entire body shaking with her cries.

It was a miracle that her powers had not engulfed the Fairy and turned it into a ball of flame, but Jack had a suspicion it was less down to whatever self-control Anna had left and more down to his powers cancelling hers out. Fire stymied by ice - or more aptly, a firestorm held back by a blizzard.

The Star audibly groaned her last metallic breath, shrieking her dying throes into the sky. Unity had gone one further - they had killed the venerable, kind, reliable Star with ruthlessness and prejudice. There was no more use watching their home die, so Jack carefully plucked the rod from his bracer with one hand, passed it back and after extending it to its full length, twisted around to jab at the red button above and behind him. As it connected, the ramp closed with a deep scraping, rendering quiet the passenger hold aside from the hum of the engines and Anna's grief-stricken sobs, in addition to hiding the horrific sight of Star's destruction from them.

"Jack…" Hiccup's voice, barely above a whisper, swam through the earpiece. Jack rested his staff on the floor and let it roll away, before returning his hand to hold Anna's quivering form and comfort her before answering.

"What?"

"What's our next move?"

Jack frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Kozmotis' addition should have been condescending, patronising, and definitely sarcastic...but it wasn't. It was matter-of-fact, but also solemn. "You're our leader now."

Jack exhaled slowly through his nose and tightened his embrace. He was right - as second-in-command, in the event of something happening to Kristoff the duties of leadership would fall to Jack until or if there ever was such a time for it to be passed back or passed on. And something had definitely happened to Kristoff.

Which irrevocably made Jack the new leader of the Ghosts.

"Bring the Fairy about and hover out of visual range. We'll hide in the dark until Unity has gone, and then do a sweep for survivors." he quietly commanded. Anna seemed to be listening, judging by how she squeezed him a little harder.

"Our fuel isn't looking good, Jack. If we do that, we won't have enough to get to Sanctuary. We'd have to fly to Unity territory." Kozmotis pointed out.

There it was, Jack's first big, tough decision as leader. Guaranteed trip home but at the cost of not knowing for sure if Kristoff and Eugene had survived, or linger just in case but potentially never see Sanctuary or their friends again. His heart thumped against his ribs as a cold chill hung on his heart - hell of a first decision...yet, it felt right. "Do it. If there's even a one percent chance they're alive...we have to take it."

Anna squeezed him even tighter.


Elsa couldn't breathe. She couldn't think, couldn't understand, couldn't breathe.

She had piloted the Valhalla halfway through her climb in a wide circle toward the Hammer's deck when a blindingly bright light had filled the drop-ship's cockpit, and it took a few moments plus tinting the windshield for her to see what had happened.

And it horrified her to the very core of her soul.

The Hammer had fired her heavy pulse cannon into the ship's side, creating a hole so big that the ship was split in two but seemingly held together by flames that rose to the heavens. Sat in the safety of the Valhalla's cockpit, it had then hit her exactly who could have been on board. Trembling, her left hand shot up to her mouth, her eyes wide with realisation and horror, brimming with tears shed and unshed. "No...Anna…" she breathed behind her hand, fighting the huge lump in her throat. She felt...indescribable. Like her body didn't know which emotion to process first, which way to jump, and was stuck in limbo.

She felt a hand enclose itself around her right. Slowly she tore her gaze away from the horrific explosion and toward the face of Astrid, who looked out of the windshield with a mix of pity, sympathy, horror and utter incomprehension. "This was too far." Astrid mused out loud. "Way too far."

For once, Elsa agreed - and hated herself for it taking the sinking of a ship for that to happen.

"Hammer to Valhalla, return to base."

Elsa didn't respond instantly. She couldn't. She was still speechless, dumbfounded, nauseous - or just didn't want to talk to the ship that potentially took her sister from her.

"Hammer to Valhalla, do you copy? Return to base!"

Elsa swallowed thickly, trying to force down the feeling of rushed anxiety - the longer she remained silent, the more suspicious it looked. She tried to speak, but the voice that came out of her mouth was broken, hoarse and weak. "Valhalla here...we copy. That's a negative."

Astrid turned to shoot her a look, and she could clearly feel the sensation of another two pairs of eyes burning into the back of her skull. The tactical officer's voice was incredulous and instantly frustrated. "Repeat last?"

"R-request permission t-to…" Elsa began, but found it so, so hard to speak, "to remain for a short time, in case of survivors. Some may have...escaped, and might return. Will leave before the Alliance come into visual range."

Silence reigned from the other end; obviously the officer had relayed Elsa's request to Hans, who was considering it. She hoped, prayed that he would grant permission - because she would stay anyway and be court-martialled for insubordination, otherwise. She had to find out if Anna was still alive. "Permission granted, Valhalla. Remember, leave before hostiles arrive."

Astrid's look became more and more expectant as time went on. Elsa thanked the officer and closed the communications line, returning her eyes to the burning, sinking wreck of what used to be...used to be Anna's home.

"They're alive."

Astrid frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"The Ghosts...they wouldn't have survived for so long if they didn't have an escape plan. Unity has thrown everything they have at them...and they're still standing. They're alive, I can feel it." Elsa answered, a wave of determination in her voice gaining strength with every word she spoke.


Merida was the first to spot them.

Elsa had piloted the Valhalla to the very cusp of the circle of amber light given off by the fires that remained unsubmerged, hidden in the darkness. She had then asked Merida to stand where she could see out of the cockpit's windshield, hoping that her flawless vision would help.

And it did, as ten minutes later, a Hela class slowly and lazily hovered over the surface of the water toward them, casting two long wakes under her as her crew searched for survivors.. "It's them." Merida said, no shadow of a doubt in her voice. "I can see her name. Fairy."

Elsa leaned forward and squinted - but their archer was right.

The problem was, just as they had seen the Fairy, the Fairy had seen them.

The Ghost drop-ship's engines put her in full forward thrust, and she charged towards them only to climb above them at the last second, close enough to jostle the Valhalla from side to side. Merida quickly darted back to her passenger seat just as Elsa wrenched the stick to the left, fishtailing the Valhalla until she faced the same direction as the Fairy and practically slammed the acceleration lever down. The Valhalla lurched forward like a missile, forcing Elsa and Astrid back into their seats as she pulled back on the stick, causing the ship to quickly climb. Her stomach tried to become one with the chair with the speed of ascent, but it was only moments before the rather uncomfortable change in direction and acceleration paid off - not far ahead, the Fairy flew.

"What're we doing, shooting them down?" Astrid asked.

"No!" Elsa blurted quickly. "No...we don't fire at them."

"What if they fire at us?" Rapunzel asked in a quiet, worried voice. Now that was a question, one that Elsa pondered how to answer just as the Fairy flew up through a thick, dark cloud.

What she then did was stupid, reckless, irresponsible and myopic - she followed them. Instantly the windshield was covered in wispy grey cotton, reducing their visibility to zero. They were completely blinded - yet she did not regret it, such was her determination to keep up with the ship that she hoped still carried her sister. She had to make amends. She had to tell her sister that she never wanted it to happen. She never wanted their home to be torn apart. She had to make her see, before their sisterly bond was infused with hate. To make her understand that the feeling Elsa had ever since first seeing the Hammer of events moving without her control or knowledge had just come to a head.

The fluffy cloud began to slip away from the windshield, and Elsa's heart leapt into her mouth as she was greeted with a grey-white floor, an inky black sky dotted with millions of diamond stars and one of the largest, most beautiful and radiant full moons she had ever seen...and it then plummeted when she realised that there was nothing else to see. The Fairy had vanished.

"Shit!" she blurted, frustratedly slapping the dashboard once. 'Air-conditioning activated…' was the onboard A.I's clever response.

"Where the heck did they go?" Astrid whispered incredulously, craning her neck forward so her head could twist every which way and peer out of the windshield. "They must have peeled off and gotten the hell out of here…which we should do."

But Elsa knew what was happening, and she didn't need to hear Merida whisper "it's an ambush…" under her breath to remind her. The feeling that told her the Ghosts were still alive was still there in her heart, and even stronger...

...and proven right.

Heart thumping a rapid beat, Elsa and the Valkyries watched as the Fairy slowly and ominously rose in front of them from beneath, their noses less than two feet apart. The two ships were so close that Elsa could see the cold yet furious expressions belonging to Pitch and Frost as they sat in the front seats. Leaning slightly, she felt her heart jump for joy when she spotted the top of a strawberry blonde head poke out from behind Pitch's chair. Anna was alive, and it was proven. She was staring at the floor, uninterested in how close the Valhalla was, but alive.

Then her breath froze in her throat when she glanced down, her eyes attracted by movement either side of the Fairy's nose - her rotary cannons were furiously spinning. A single button could riddle the Valhalla with hundreds of holes and bat her out of the sky like she was nothing. After all - there was every likelihood that the Ghosts had witnessed their home's destruction and, judging by Frost's expression of cold fury...it was equally likely that he would press that button.

"I think we should move." Astrid said tensely - and even her voice had taken on a slight tremor. "Cut the engines, we drop like a stone, then hit forward thrust as soon as we-"

"It won't help."

Elsa, as well as Astrid twisted round to face Rapunzel, who was leaning down with her hand on the hull and peering out of the port side window, wearing a resigned and partly exasperated expression. "Those aren't the only guns pointed at us." she clarified, and pointed through the glass.

Frowning, Elsa twisted round to peer through the left side of the windshield, and felt the colour drain from her face when she spotted Night Fury astride his black...whatever species of creature it was, and the only reason he was visible was thanks to the bright blue glow tracing along the beast's body. Not to mention its mouth.

"Welp, we're screwed." Astrid deadpanned.

Movement from the Fairy's cockpit caught Elsa's eye. Turning back to face it, she noticed Frost unclip himself from his co-pilot's chair, toss the straps over his shoulder and rise to his feet, all the while maintaining unblinking eye contact with her. Those piercing blues felt, now that she did not picture his face whilst feeling unquenchable rage, like they were peering into her soul. He then turned and moved toward the passenger compartment, stopping once to bend down and whisper something into Anna's ear. Elsa felt a surge of curiosity; she found herself desperate to know what was being said.

Frost then straightened up, unhooked something from behind Anna and slipped it over his face, before reaching out to something obscured by the thin bulkhead behind Pitch. She saw the glint of his staff being extended in his left hand as he turned his back to her and walked off - and promptly disappeared.

Then one second later, he reappeared - stood on top of the Fairy. Elsa's breath caught in her throat; the moonlight framed his entire being like a life-size halo, an outline of white around a silhouette of black. Light reflected from his wind-whipped and snow-white hair, making it look like it was giving off its own ethereal glow. His mask and goggles covered his face, whether due to the frightening altitude or whether he was ready for war, she wasn't certain. Stood with his arms held slightly and aggressively away from him, she could almost feel his rage - actually feel it.

The atmosphere inside the Valhalla was so tense, the slightest movement startled all four women. Unable to tear her eyes away, and her breaths coming thick, fast and anxious, Elsa watched as Frost walked across the Fairy towards them, like the harsh winds and staggering height were just distractions as light as leaves in a breeze. She watched as he made his way down the cockpit and the nose, lifted himself into the air like an invisible force carried him...and touched down in front of them, just on the other side of the Valhalla's windshield. Nothing but a few panes of glass and a shell of metal separated them. Rapt with attention, Elsa watched as he knelt down, his masked face moving between and lingering on each Valkyrie in turn, until he finally rested his gaze upon her.

The Ghost and the Valkyrie, eyes locked as they had been all those weeks ago in the apartment, the rage as one-sided as it had been before yet emanating from a different person. She could feel his eyes burning through her, and saw how his head slightly tilted as though working out what to make of her. Heart thudding with anxiety, Elsa didn't dare look away.

But then he made the first move - literally. His right hand pressed itself against her side of the cockpit window, fingers feathered apart. A second later, frost crept from his hand and grew to cover the glass, thick enough to obscure her vision - or, as was his intent, write in.

He removed his hand save for one finger. Slowly, he wrote three letters backwards to him but perfectly placed for her to read - 'SIX'. Elsa breathed the word out loud.

Then his finger moved to the top left corner...and drew a diagonal line across it, as though striking out a mistake.

"W-what does that mean?" Rapunzel asked faintly, from somewhere over Elsa's right shoulder.

Elsa knew, though. She knew exactly what it meant. Swallowing heavily, just as his black shadow disappeared from the windshield, she tried to speak out loud yet was only able to manage just above a whisper. "A Ghost kills only in self-defence under immediate threat of death. It's one of their rules - the sixth one."

"Okay, so," Merida piped up, "how is that connected tae what he just did?"

Elsa felt an all-too familiar chill in her spine. "It's a warning - it means their sixth rule is no longer in effect. It means…"

In any other situation, Astrid would have teased her for the dramatic effect...but it wasn't Elsa's intention. No, she found herself having to force the rest of her sentence out as a result of fear.

"...it means that if they ever see us again...they'll kill us all."


THE PURGE: COMPLETE


End of Act I


A/N:

There we have it, the end of the first act of Of Ghosts and Valkyries. The abnormals have been scattered, the Fairy can't return home. Anna has lost her husband, Jack has lost his surrogate mother, and Elsa has realised just where her path of vengeance has led.

OH, AND ASTRID HAS POWERS.

Did they truly perish in the explosion? Did Kristoff and Eugene truly die? And now that Elsa doubts what she has been told, who is the true author of her pain? More importantly...can the Ghosts ever forgive her? Can Jack and Anna see past their pain and grief? Who knows.

Find out in Act II, due out near the end of May.

I would like to thank several people for their invaluable and life-saving aid during the writing of this part of the story. The only one I will directly cite is my wife, for enduring the proofreads - but I'm making a change; I would like to thank those of you who have been a part of the creative process and have listened to my ideas, and been instrumental in the formation of this story. You all know who you are, especially one.

I would also like to thank my fans (I actually have fans...wat…) for reading, for reviewing, following and favouriting this story. I would be writing it regardless, but your support makes it a joy and a borderline addiction. It wouldn't be anywhere near as rewarding without you. Each review is a huge boost to my confidence, and each constructive criticism helps me grew. So many, many tanks. They're over there. Some of them aren't metal, though...they're inflatable. Budget cuts.

So, for the last time for a couple of months - Guest mailbox!

Lethalshikaino: It's true, Elsa has a long road ahead. It will be hard, and it will be painful, but she has shown that she will stop at nothing.

Fyrearth: Sorry about making you cry! Snow White seems to be one of those that people don't like, I've noticed…

Heartonfire: Thank you! And yeah, you're right. Neither can see the other's motives. Anna had a pseudo-family to fall back on and help her through, but Elsa had no-one. Conversely, Anna knows how rational Elsa is/was, and can't understand why she would abandon all reason like she did.

Maggietheawesome: Never change. Yeah, Elsa should probably have asked about the marriage thing but to be fair, her mind was all about her sister. Plus I'm saving that part.

Hawthornsnow: I'm an old romantic, and I believe in that intangible connection between people/characters, so that probably came across with Eugene and Rapunzel. I think they call it 'zing' in Hotel Transylvania (also, love Mavis). Elsa does care about her team, yes - under all the rage and grief, and her state of limbo. Sometimes the reality-check has to be proportionate to how far down the rabbit hole you are.

Mar: Thank you so much!

Stargirl: Well, maybe you should've been doing your homework! Kidding. Sorry for hurting your heart, but thank you for reading!
Guest1: Thank you for the compliment. As for Elsa - time will tell. It
could be argued that Elsa is not responsible for what happened on the Star. Whether or not the Ghosts can be brought to see it that way...time will tell.

Luis Miguel: I tried running your review through translators, but they were less than helpful. I hope it was a positive review!

Guest2: Thank you! I keep panicking that I haven't gotten the characterisation right :/ Thank you so much for the kind words - and talented minx, ahahaha.

Okay - a few people have expressed concerns as to how Jelsa could possibly happen - my answer is in the form of a quote by Thomas Fuller - 'It is said that the darkest hour of the night comes just before the dawn'. In short, you have to experience the lowest low, to reach the highest high.

See you in May!

For the Ghosts,

Furiyan