With her wrist in hand, the armored figure led Krystal through the wide halls of the ship; his strong grip shocking her limb with pins and needles. She didn't struggle; she didn't want to push him, lest he take out his growing rage on her. She could sense it: whoever this 'scyther' was obviously made his blood boil.

The halls began to narrow as more of the crew began to disappear. They never entered the bridge, which meant she was considered more valuable than the others, or at least that's what she thought. She wasn't dressed like a slave, or at least she thought she wasn't, and despite his tender and less than stellar personality, the dark armored warrior had never harmed her beyond subduing her.

Speaking of the figure, she didn't know his name. "Who are you?", she asked hesitantly.

"You may call me Trazyn. And no, before you ask, I am not a part of this crew. I am simply a guest."

Krystal narrowed her eyes. "How did you know I was going to ask that?"

"I just did", Trazyn replied. Krystal simply rolled her eyes. Trazyn stopped before a large set of doors, and turned his chilling helmet towards her, the eyes boring into her soul. "When we enter this room, you will not speak a word. You will not respond to what any of the leaders of this ship say. They wish to take advantage of you in some of the worst ways possible and I will not allow someone like you to go through such an ordeal. Is that understood?"

"Excuse me if I have a hard time trusting you." she replied, an obvious snark in her voice. She regretted the choice immediately, as Trazyn grabbed her by the chin. "Is that understood?", he growled. She nodded, and he released her. "Good. Now, I have to set a few things straight with the leader of this fleet. This will most likely become bloody. If it does, you will stay with me and I will keep you safe."

Before she could object, Trazyn pounded the button and the door opened, revealing the command deck, and it was then when she began to consider the possibility of Trazyn being completely insane. The deck was filled with at least two dozen personnel, ranging from couriers in seats processing and transmitting information to armed guards with weapons far more powerful than those used by the boarders. The guards aimed the

weapons at him, but the obvious leader, a talle, lithe avianoid with a razor sharp beak armored in a far more exquisite set of combat armor than the rest, raised its clawed appendage, and they relaxed. It focused its four, beady eyes on Trazyn, with what seemed to be amusement if Krystal's psychic power was returning.

"So, you have brought the girl, excellent. Hand her to us and we shall be on our way."

"I'm afraid not, scum. I shall be keeping the girl, and I shall depart when we reach your first destination. I simply came to make an example out of you before I set things straight."

The leader chortled. "Justicar, your reputation for brash action precedes you. I will admit, your bravery is admirable, but it is also quite foolish. Why do you risk your life for this girl?"

"The ecclesiarchy has its reasons. Now, you will retract your ultimatum or I will cut all the tendons in your body and watch you flop around like a fish."

The leader was unfazed, but Krystal's eyes were like dinner plates. She began to realize that Trazyn might have been a bastard, but he was far from her biggest threat in the room. He had so far kept her safe and unharmed, and from what she had seen on this twisted ship, that meant a lot. She was even treated with the same dignity and respect that Trazyn had been, which begged the question; what really were his goals?

He had mentioned the ecclesiarchy. So he was part of some religious institution, maybe? She doubted it, he didn't seem like a pious individual, and he had threatened violence multiple times, so he might not have been a priest or monk of sorts. Maybe a mercenary? That was questionable as well: his armor was far too elegant, over decorated. One of the first things she learned about the life of a mercenary was that anything more expensive than a coat of paint was too expensive. But who's to say these avians and reptilians and Ceria knows what else weren't mercenaries hired to guard these ships?

Her train of thought ended when she heard Trazyn's sidearm scrape out of its holster. It was a large pistol, the size of a cinder block, and it had a long, slanted clip extending from the barrel past the trigger. The clip had a clear gap of plasti-glass to reveal how many shells were left, with angular steel corners. The shells were massive, with large bullets the size of shotgun shells sticking out past the case, fragmented along the sides and ending at a ball point. She suspected a single shot could kill even a heavily armored Lylatian soldier. She didn't want to find out.

Trazyn aimed the gun at the leader, who seemed unfazed. "My armor is more than capable of deflecting such a puny weapon." He gestured to his guards. "Kill him"

The guards aimed their weapons at him and fired. He covered Krystal with his body before waving his arm in the air, causing the two yellow beams of energy to deflect off of the faint effect in the air. He then aimed and fired at the first of the two, planting several large bullets into its chest, each of which exploded, sending a dark red spray of ichor on the wall like paint. Unarmed personnel ducked for cover as the second guard fired again. This time Trazyn deflected the beam into the ground and fired into the bird's skull, turning it into a mess of bone and grey matter. The leader extended its claws and Trazyn unsheathed his knife with his other hand.

Several more guards rushed into the room. Trazyn threw his knife at the first, catching him in the neck and sending him sprawling and clutching at the serrated blade. He fired at the second, causing another spray of blood, and punched the third between the eyes, stunning him before locking onto his neck and snapping it like a twist off. Trazyn dropped the body and drew another knife, this one larger and shaped like a spike.

"Your kind have grown arrogant. You disobeyed the hands of the ecclesiarchy."

"You underestimate your authority. Our kind holds the power in the darkness of this space."

"So you say. I'll make you eat those words."

The leader rushed forward, slashing at Trazyn's arm. Trazyn dodged to the side, elbowing the warrior in the back and sending him in the ground. He stood up and struck back at Trazyn, talons extended, but he quickly stepped aside, planting his armored boot into the shin of the avian, causing him to growl. Trazyn kneed him in the gut, followed with a right hook and then another, and before the leader could recover, he latched onto his arm and snapped it like a twig with his elbow before ripping it out, causing blood to splatter onto the floor and Krystal to yelp and cover her mouth. She hid behind one of the larger consoles, her legs pulled up to her chest and one of the guns the guards had in her arms as she attempted to familiarize herself with it. The leader stood in shock, unable to process that Trazyn had just ripped his arm off. Trazyn grabbed his neck and lifted him up.

"You threatened a Justicar, disrupted ecclesiarchy business and all for what? To sell this vixen to some perverted noble to keep your filthy nest afloat? Your kind, no matter what privileges you hold by the grace of the Phoenix, will always be the same; scum of the most sickening order."

The leader sneered between gasps for air. "The clan won't stand for this. You will die by our hand. The girl will be ours to sell!"

Trazyn shook his head. "No. I won't let that happen. I know who will be dying today, however."

And with one slick motion, Trazyn snapped the bird's neck with ease. The deck was filled with silence. Nobody reached for weapons or called for reinforcements.

"This conflict has been resolved, and by your traditions no less. Who is next in command?"

A smaller, similar looking Avianoid slowly raised its clawed hand.

"You are the leader of this fleet. Inform your other ships that this disruption has been resolved and that there will be no further demands for the girl or from me. Is that understood, Scyther?"

The bird simply nodded, retrieving a decorated weapon from the now dessicated captain, possibly a symbol of command, before strapping it onto his belt and donning the former leader's helmet. Nobody dared speak. Trazyn approached Krystal, grabbing her arm and lifting her up gently. He then began to examine her.

"Are you alright?"

The simple expression of care surprised her, but she nodded. He did so in return, dusting her off and holding her hand. "I hope I don't have to chaperone you."

Krystal gave him a dirty look, but he simply used that distracted mindset of hers to pull her closer into a formal embrace and lead her out of the deck and back the way they had come.

"Who are you?", she whispered to him.

He didn't respond.

"Please, I need to know. One moment you are a cruel tyrant and the next you risk your life to spare me a harrowing fate. Who are you."

"A Justicar fulfilling his duty."

She narrowed her eyes in frustration. "That doesn't answer my question."

"It wasn't meant to."

"Please?"

"If you continue to cooperate. If this helps, I have no intention of harming you, whether you believe that or not. My duty requires me to compete with some of the cruelest in the galaxy, and thus I must react to them accordingly. And the only way to combat cruelty in the darkness between worlds is to be even more cruel. The morally inflexible have no place safeguarding the many: it leads to incompetence laced with selfishness."

"You don't have to act like an animal", she replied. She expected anger from him, but his mood didn't seem to change."

"You are lucky to have lived in such an innocent part of the galaxy. But these slavers act like animals because they are animals. We all are. Without the moral code of law on civilized worlds, these corsairs honor only one rule: the strongest is the law. The largest, meanest creature rules all. And despite how quickly he had fallen by my hand, the fleetmaster was a man to be feared. He ruled this fleet and many others for over two decades. He had defeated every challenger between then and now, until I had ended his life."

"So what now? You killed the fleetmaster. Certainly the rest of the fleet will retaliate."

He shook his head. "On the contrary. They will be too busy fighting each other to seek vengeance, and that's if the one who succeeds even cares. The old fleetmaster was unpopular. Few will miss him."

Krystal followed Trazyn through the halls once more until they returned to the same room she had been locked in. He nudged her into the room and blocked the entrance.

"It is still unsafe for you out here. Keep the weapon just in case, but you will stay here. No matter who leads this fleet, the consensus on you is unanimous: you are a valuable commodity, and my duty forbids your loss or death."

"If I am so important, then why are you leaving?"

He closed the door, not answering her question. She sighed and sat down on the bed, playing with the curls in her hair. Trazyn was by far the most frustrating individual she knew. Yet her earlier deduction was correct. He was her best hope of not being killed or enslaved, and this entire fleet was quickly turning into a feast for crows. If what Trazyn said was true, then the powerful within the fleet would be tearing each other apart to take the old fleetmaster's place."

Where in the living hell was she? It's like she was transported into a nightmare. She still hadn't been able to free or even locate her friends, she had no plan of escape, or any way to decide whether escape was an option. Trazyn was purposefully keeping her in the dark. It's almost as if he was manipulating her into viewing him as some sort of savior. If so, she hated to admit that it had worked. But the alternative seemed worse.

She curled into the fetal position, wrapping her tail around her body. She just wanted to find her friends and go home. But she was determined to force Trazyn's hand. He could help her free them.

Fox woke up to another screaming headache. Of course he did. He was trapped within his miniature cell again. He wasn't muzzled or chained anymore, which was a relief. He rubbed his wrists and his snout which was still sore, but he couldn't move much. He was incredibly cramped, hot and sweaty.

He felt around the cell, attempting to find a way to break out, but the walls were smooth. The door was sealed shut pneumatically, and there were air holes on the ceiling with poor ventilation, making it impossible to force open the door. The room was too small for him to move his legs upwards anyway, with his legs forced up to his chest.

The small slit on the front of the door was closed and sealed, leading to the cell to be pitch black, with only the sound of a small metal fan forcing fresh air in and out of the cage with a rattle. It was an irritating rattle, but fox would rather have it on. It helped him know if he was still alive or not.

Fox remembered what the small furry shrew had done to him, and he reached to feel the back of his neck. A smooth plate of metal was melded into his skin, with no discernable features he could feel. That didn't make sense: the shrew put something inside it. A chip of some sort, but there was nowhere to place it. He scraped at it with his claws to no avail.

It was probably built like that to prevent anyone from removing anything without consent. That made sense: of the device did implant something into his brain stem, then fiddling with the innards of the implant could harm him, if not downright kill him. But what would they add Nut? It was featureless so probably not a brand, but maybe it was a cybernetic brand. They could scan the chip inside to see who he belonged too.

Who he belonged to. Those four words together made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't imagine being owned by anyone else, like some kind of pet. He was sentient: sentients couldn't be owned under the Lylat Accords.

But he wasn't in the Lylat, or even near Venom. None of the creatures he had seen so far resemble anything remotely Lylatian or Venomian. Eight foot tall saurian birds with claws the size of paring knives, behemoth reptiles, and most likely a lot more. His hope for getting out of this damn ship was waning, especially since the security and containment on this ship was already impossible to bypass. He felt stupid that he was already beaten by a door, but he guessed that years of fighting stupid enemies didn't really prepare him for a prepared one.

But most importantly, where was he going?

Fox kept panting. His throat was horrifically dry, and he was starting to think that the headache wasn't from the implant, but rather dehydration. It was at least ninety degrees in the cell, and the walls squished his body together, so he was dripping sweat. It was almost like a kind of torture. The air coming from the vents wasn't much better. It was cooler, sure, but it heated up rapidly.

He was contemplating on attempting to sleep to conserve energy when the cell door's inner mechanisms whirled again, and the pneumatic lock released, letting in a cool blast of fresh air into the cell as the door slid open. Twas the shrew and his massive bodyguard again, although the shrew had cut his fur down to a more reasonable length, giving him some semblance of something besides a cotton swab. He didn't have any gear with him, which was both a relief and a concern, because it must have meant the shrew was taking him somewhere.

He looked behind the shrew and he saw some of the avians corralling miners out of their cells in small groups with electrified prods. Most did not resist, and those that did were quickly dismayed with a few high voltage jabs. The shrew didn't have a prod with him, but he had Jarigurl, which was demotivating enough. The massive reptile was fidgeting with what looked like a small puzzle cube, like a rubix cube, except that the core of each square constantly changed. Jarigurl didn't seem to mind, he just kept turning the rows without a care in the world. Good for him. If Fox didn't know any better, it was almost like it was designed to constantly give the massive creature something to do. But it couldn't have been that slow, could it?

"It's time for relocation. It'll be a long walk, so keep your wits about you. Some of the guards can be abusive. Jarigurl will do his best to keep them in line, but whatever you do, don't react. You'll just encourage them."

"What?", Fox croaked, not sure what was going on. Relocating to where? Jarigurl lifted him up, and Fox began to hyperventilate. Jarigurl, to his surprise, was incredibly gentle. He was set on his feet, and Fox leaned onto the door of his opened cell with a wheeze. Jarigurl tilted his head like a puppy, and the shrew parted his leg.

"I'm going to need you to keep up. Catch your breath, I know you barely had any in the cell, but you have to show you are capable of withstanding pressure, or you'll be disposed of."

That caught Fox's attention.

The shrew's cold expression did not change. "You must have noticed that there are far fewer slaves in this cell block than before. That isn't an accident. The Bloodied Talon doesn't tolerate weakness. They are ruthless, efficient and incredibly demanding, even from the least fortunate such as yourself. If you cannot carry yourself to where you will be kept, they will kill you. So get up or die. I won't coddle you. I can't. I don't have a choice."

Fox took several sharp inhales of the cool air before he stood up, feeling the pain in his ribs pulse. He ignored it though. The Shrew nodded and gestured for him to join the rest of the group. There were about two hundred in total, all wearing collars. Fox wondered why he didn't have one until a guard clamped one around his throat, which automatically tightened. It didn't restrict his breathing, but Fox had no doubt that's exactly what it was designed to do. A probe from the back of the collar inserted into a slot of the implant on the back of his neck. The slot was sealed around the probe, and Fox felt a mild pain on the back of his brain stem.

He just kept breathing. That's all he had to do. At least he was breathing. That's what his father always told him. Even when the battle became worse and worse, when the odds were stacked against you, if you were still breathing, there was hope.

A guard prodded him forward, leaving a small welt on his skin, and the crowd as a whole reacted to the sound. They moved forward like a school of fish down the tight hall, guards flanking every end. They weren't armored like the ones he and Fay encountered on the station, so he caught a glimpse of some of their features.

The first thing Fox noticed was their beaks. They were abruptly pointed downward, and were almost like a part of the skull in a way. The end was razor sharp, some being artificially serrated as a decoration. Their feathers were a light grayish, but colored with war paint of all different shades, although red and shades of crimson were the most popular it seemed. The feathers themselves were padded down by design, almost like all natural armor, and when two of the guards would push each other around or bully the prisoners, the feathers along the shoulders, spine and neck would rise like hackles. Their talons were retracted, and their three digits were long and flexible, with an opposable thumb. They each had four, beady, yellowish green eyes that would stare into your soul. They made Fox shiver.

The halls bagen to widen as his feet became more sore. The shrew was right; it was a long walk. He felt the throb of his broken ribs become louder and louder with each passing step. A bruised and older looking bulldog, one of the miners, collapsed. Two guards prodded him with electric shocks, and when he did not respond, one of the guards pulled out a large sidearm and planted several bullets into his body before shoving the body to the side, all without any change in attitude. Fox had to look away as several large canine-like creatures began to devour the corpse.

After that display, the crowd moved faster, eager to get to their destination. Jarigurl, to his credit, kept the more rambunctious guards at bay as much as he could, but that didn't jeep a random prod from poking into the crowd from time to time, and causing panic as someone yelped. But beyond the first death, it was surprisingly quiet.

After what seemed like hours, they had finally reached a massive door. Two guards activated the doors on either side, and the doors slowly swung open, revealing a large room already filled with tens of thousands. It was a massive room, two miles in diameter at least. And that was probably what took up the bulk of the ship. It Had several floors, each with stairs leading up to the next and guard posts one to the ceiling of each, with more avian guards with firearms, large rifles with box clips. They surveyed the area, looking for troublemakers or just an excuse to shoot someone. And it seemed as if they did.

One guy, a racoon with a pipe he pulled out of the wall, tried to bust open a panel to crawl through. The guards responded immediately, firing, their barrels lighting up with quiet, blue bursts as bullets ruptured his body. The mulched corps fell over, and everyone vacated the area as two guards armed with what seemed prods and said black riot shields approached the body to dispose of it.

But what really caught Fox's attention were the several large fountains. They were massive, one in the center that was fifty feet in diameter. More dotted the sides of the walls, smaller, only ten feet in diameter, but Fox didn't care. It was water, and a surprisingly ingenious way to give everyone water. Not that he was complementing slavers, they were scum. People were bathing in the center fountain, although not on the sides. People were only drinking from those.

The crowd was ushered into the massive complex, and once they finally entered, the doors closed behind him. He rushed over to the closest side fountain, and with his hands he scooped up mouthfuls of water to drink. After several minutes, he sat down beside the fountain, thinking about what he had to do next. He couldn't stay idle. He had to find a way off the ship without being torn to pieces by armed guards.

FAY! He had to find Fay!

He jumped to his feet and immediately regretted it as the broken ribs jangled in his side, causing him to double over and beat vomit. Nobody even paid attention. Others seemed to have many similar wounds, some far worse.

He stood up and began to evaluate his situation. There were a lot of people on those stations. Close to one hundred thousand combined personnelle when counting every station in the field, and Fox didn't doubt that these slavers were thorough. Fay also wasn't a very unique figure to find in a crowd. Hed try anyway.

As luck would have it, he didn't have to look for long. Fay was bathing in the central fountain, her tattered undershirt and army green cargo pants still on. Her jumpsuit was nowhere to be found, but he didnt care. Her arms and neck were scratched up, but that was fine. He stepped into the fountain before a woman started to boo him.

"C'mon, man. Let the ladies get wet before you do."

He turned to see a brown tabby cat sitting Indian style in the water, with only her underclothes on. Another girl, a husky, slugged her shoulder. "Shut up Marcy, he's an arrival. I'm sorry about her, all she does is complain."

Fox was slightly confused at her very relaxed attitude but continued moving towards Fay. Before long, he was behind her. He tapped her shoulder and she turned around and hooked him in the jaw before covering her mouth in surprise and horror. "Oh my God, captain I am so sorry! Oh please don't be mad."

"Thanks for the warm welcome, Fay. I really appreciate the gesture.". She stuck out his hand to help lift him up as some people in the crowd chuckled before returning to their business. Fay quickly hugged him before folding her arms and looking down in embarrassment. He gagged her back and they sat down in the war water. She continued to wring out her hair while filling her in on how the last few days had been.

"I was in the second group to get pushed in here. They add about ten thousand a day, but it's not super crowded. There's about fifty thousand right now, and about fifty thousand more in those terrible cell blocks. I'm glad I got out early, although I feel bad for you."

Fox flexed his shoulders in his newfound freedom, kneading out the cramps. "So any idea where they're taking us?"

Fay sighed. "Not a clue. One of the doctors, he looked like a plant, but with eyes and a mouth, super freaky. Anyway, the doctor who stitched up my head and realigned my nose said something about a place called Hesperiidae, but I'm not sure what that's about. Most of the time the guards don't talk, and if they do it's to give commands or shout slurs. And the body guards are… well, they're the bodyguards. Very quiet. And not in the cool mysterious way. More of the quiet kid in class kind of way. It'd be cute if they didn't weigh as much as a forklift."

Fox nodded absent-mindedly. "Any clue where anyone else is?"

Fay brightened up. "Yeah, Krystal's on the ship too. But some other group is holding her. Some guys called the Justicars. All in midnight black armor. They seem to be not very happy with something that the guys who own the ship are doing. Saying they're 'disrupting their duty' as far as I can tell. Definitely not our saviors, they don't give a damn about us." She sighed. "As for the rest, no clue. I'm hoping they got away."

Fox nodded. "Alright, what's the plan."

Fay sighed. "There is no plan."

Fox gave her an incredulous look. "What do you mean there isn't a plan? You have to have thought of something."

"It's not that I haven't thought of anything, it's that I've exhausted my options. First of all, we have the guards to deal with. You saw how they mulched that racoon. They have cameras and armed guards on with eyes on every angle. There's no way I can even get close to the wall, much less crack open a panel, without getting turned into Swiss cheese. Secondly, even if I could, and that's being generous, this tech is foreign to me. The best I could do is pull wires cartoon style and pray. And even then, those doors are pneumatically sealed. If I pull the wrong wire and let's say, cut off or life support, we're fucked. You want to know how long fifty thousand people will last without life support? Five minutes, maximum, give or take thirty seconds. And that's not counting if people don't start hyperventilating due to the lack of oxygen. I won't risk everyone's lives."

Fox sighed and buried hisnhead in his hands. She placed her hand on his shoulders. "I get it, sir. You want to get off this ship and save the team. But our best bet is to wait this out. We have a better chance at escaping when we're transferred off the ship."

Fox wanted off this damn ship already, but she was right. It was a waiting game now. He just hoped that Krystal was safe. He had to contact her.

"How did you find out that Krystal was on the ship?"

"She telepathically contacted me. She was weak, said someone with their own powers nullified hers for a while, but she told me that she was safe. Apparently the Justicars need her for something."

He gave a weak smile. "Well, that's good. I guess you're right Fay. Now we wait."