Underworld

by Electromotive Force

In a distant, forgotten corner of the Milky Way, citizens of a desolate colony world somehow make end's meet amidst the Mecca of black market trade. And though a wretched hive of criminal existence, a far greater evil calculates beneath it all...and waits.

33. Redemption and Perdition

Redemption and Perdition

Justin positioned the prototype weapon over his shoulder and peered through the integrated scope.

Everything—the stir-crazy combat forms searching for mutilation, the crawling infection forms looking for a host, the Autonomous Mobile Swords that appeared out of nowhere as their fear-inducing screams propagated the land, and a battalion-sized unit of Sergei's criminal army surrounding all the human refugees and rival gangs herded across the plains—was now reduced to a narrow tunnel view of just a few meandering targets from Justin's perspective. The scope now at 3x magnification made the chaotic panorama so much more negotiable this way.

Holding steady in a column along the right side of the display were a slew of digital captions, various telemetry readouts of the LASER's complex internal workings. The notifications were intuitive as they were informative, bolstering Justin's confidence even further. He gazed over the numbers and icons, grinning as he was shown in real-time the gas-feed pressure—measured in psi (pounds per square inch), field strength of the N and P-type materials—measured in eV (electronvolts), the total gain of all solid-state amplifiers—measured in dBGW (decibels referenced to 1 Gigawatt), percentage of battery life—currently at 100, and the aggregate amount of destructive energy a single shot could produce at any given instant once it left the barrel—measured in TJ/cu. ft. (Terajoules per cubic foot). He wasn't keen on all the terminology, but everything looked good to go as far as he could gather, all values highlighted in a comforting green hue as he scrutinized the readings.

The weapon was extremely well-assembled. Justin simply knew it. The wielder wouldn't need to know the nominal values of directed energy refelectometers or understand the complexities of particle physics or possess in-depth knowledge of the eletromagnetic spectrum. The chassis of this LASER felt sure and tight against his shoulder, as if the entire unit was machined inside and out from a single chunk of metal.

Justin didn't force aim; he simply pointed the rifle straight ahead to clear a path and hopefully get everyone's attention. For an instant, a Screamer stole the show, lancing out of the ground in a blur of motion. At a mild arc, it sailed at high velocity towards a lone, unsuspecting human just as a combat form did as well. The sentient machine decapitated them both in one fell swoop, impacted the ground fifty meters later, and burrowed under again before the severed heads landed. Centered on the gory result, Justin knelt to the ground right where granite transitioned to clay and squeezed the trigger.

Reid expected something more overt. Currently, the weapon produced a whine that was barely audible, and the only thing visible out the business end of the LASER was the targeting beam the Doctor had once mentioned. Nevertheless, Justin waited faithfully. The ambient dust of Traxus IX—now forcibly stirred by the chaos outside—aided the vector of non-lethal light. He held the trigger and leveled it to about chest height at the many targets criss-crossing in and out of view, waiting. For what seemed like an eternity, though, he had been squeezing the trigger, struggling to keep the aim steady, anticipating something marvelous.

It was taking too long, his coursing adrenaline amplifying the anticipation.

But deep within, the N and P-type materials already began to force-feed electrons and positrons together with the aid of a forward-biased battery, all components working in perfect sequence. Unbeknownst to him, the immense electromotive force resulting from such high current created a spectacular gathering of light and energy pooling in a junction directly in line with the weapon's focusing aperture. Still, just the dull whine, but instantly its pitch rose as well as the volume. It crescendoed into a strange, mighty roar as the entire body of the weapon kicked up and nearly broke free of Justin's grasp.

He barely got the chance to see what happened as a gout of chemical vapor expelled from the weapon's seams like a beast huffing in the fog of a cold day dawning. Justin remembered a fleeting red flash out the corner of his eye as the scope jerked away, but it all happened so fast that he couldn't be sure if the shot connected with a target.

Chris stood behind Justin, his eyes fixed on the aftermath, mouth slightly agape. "Oh my God!" he shouted.

Justin quickly hoisted the weapon again, getting it comfortable on his shoulder as he retook aim. He peered into the scope in time to see a line of about twenty limp bodies so unfortunately in the beam's path all fall to the ground in unison, the first three of which simply appeared as billowing puffs of steam and green mist. Justin looked down at his weapon, awestruck. He looked up again into the field and outward from the beam's path: the entire arena of battle had been neatly bifurcated by this instantaneous lethality. An entire score of combatants had just been neutralized by a single shot.

A lull in the massive free-for-all then occurred, confusion brimming from all sides of the fight. Upon the instant it happened, Justin bolted from the cave entrance and into the open. "Move!" he ordered.

Everyone followed and soon caught up with him, surrounded him like a phalanx on wheels, weapons bristling outwards like government agents caught in a blitz.

But no one fired—not one member of the criminal army, not one hapless victim caught in the fray, not one combat form, and not even a single Screamer could be heard below the ground. The entire expanse was silent and still except for Justin and those with him jogging through with a newfound look on all their faces, the bewildered look of triumph over insurmountable odds. Justin twirled 360° with impressive footwork, carefully but intently trotting through, flaunting the weapon's aperture around for all to see in a demoralizing show of force. He gave a menacing grin.

He then began pulsing the weapon's trigger rapidly. The thin, red line touched nearly everything as he swirled it about. His idle threats were recognized by all. Encompassing the fleeing group, their enemies remained petrified, uncanny how eerily silent one weapon made the entire plain.

Theoretically, Justin could end the entire battle right here and now. Pick off the most formidable targets while the others provided point defense for him. He especially had the freedom to do so if not for the complete shock and fear that reigned over the multitude of his enemies.

But he needed the remaining firepower to destroy the enemies lying in wait at the secret underground hangar, and the pure form barring their only means of escape. He wouldn't put those priorities at risk. He chose to let the effect of what just happened sink in rather than provoke a flare-up that would injure or kill someone, however advantaged he was.

But something grabbed a hold of Justin's temperament, something very formidable: himself. Every ounce of blood coursing through his adrenaline-doped veins ordered him to eliminate them all, the years of anguish and hate coming to a boil inside him now that he had all the power. He looked at the many shapes and figures surrounding him, all disfigured and grotesque, atrocious and vying for something horrid to transpire. His trigger finger stiffened in anticipation just waiting for someone or something to tempt him in annihilating them all. But then by pure luck something happened…

In an instant, in the midst of all his surmounting grief and agony and the vengeful spite whispering against his better judgement, he caught the sight of something pure and innocent: Chris—the young boy fleeing but glancing back at him.

Justin could have easily been mistaken with everything happening at once, but it seemed there was nothing but genuine concern in Chris' eyes.

Something about the boy reeled Justin away from everything surrounding him, everything he'd known.

The ex-Marine once again panned around the entire tundra littered with atrocities, some of them ducking or fleeing from his line of sight. He removed his forefinger and rested it on the trigger guard. "Straight into the city." Justin said as he maintained the cautious pace onward. "This is not our fight."

Within the passing of a few more seconds, the survivors increased the pace and left the immediate vicinity of the battle plain in a wake of awe and wonder. Justin took a glance over his shoulder, the group now running full speed for the admin courtyard and beyond. There at his side, Gibson somehow maintained the pace with the group as his body all but gave out on him. Justin peered through the 3x scope: far past Gibson's sagging outlines, he witnessed the surviving combat forms retrieve fallen weapons off the ground, swinging them erratically at first as if calibrating their host's extremities, now taking aim at any target of opportunity. Upon that instant, the symphony of gunfire and screams resumed and echoed off the looming courtyard buildings, off the cobblestone ground, echoing for miles in every direction. The horrid, thought-drowning wails of Screamers pierced their ears even from this far away as the machines resumed the hunt for all life in the endless plain. The multi-fronted battle far behind had resumed.

Justin turned away. "May you all burn in Hell."

---

After a long and exhaustive sprint down the first leg of the main tunnel, Justin glanced rearward one last time upon nearing the level ground again. Darkness began to saturate. He stared for a moment up the slope. The light of day they left behind was painful to behold, his pupils contracting in adjustment. Some substance gradually filled his vision, colors filling the outlines—now sharpening in focus. Just a splotch of dreary grey was all that remained behind. Nothing pursued them. He exhaled and let his elevated heart rate and labored breathing finally take a toll.

He unlimbered the LASER and let it hang loosely in his grasp, the weight of it starting to become apparent. He couldn't maintain a sprint like that again wielding this cumbersome device; pure adrenaline got him through that time. He glanced back once more just to be certain nothing was following. Indeed, none of his enemies were that stupid. Fortunately for them all, they could permit a relative amount of complacency and let their guard down now that the immediate threat was far behind—and they'd keep moving forward to the end. It wasn't much further to the great escape Gibson and Justin had been planning and waiting for.

Justin resumed the last of his sprint, following the others further into the tunnel. As if hive-minded, all survivors activated their flashlights as they sped through the darkness and closer to the underground gateway. The titanium mesh far ahead reflected some of the light in accordance with universal law, projecting checkered shadows on the roadway beyond. Gibson wasted no time in securing their passage despite being wholly exhausted from the run. He entered his credentials as his sweat dripped profusely on the keypad, and a moment later the same section of concrete wall that opened earlier revealed itself—first bearing its seams then instantly retracting into the flanking stone. Gibson once again attempted to lead them all to a proverbial promise land, red light revealing the way ahead.

---

After the burdensome, single-file journey through the dimly-lit, catacomb-like corridors and the waiting for others to arrive in tedious, predictive intervals at the MAGLEV drop-off, Gibson hurriedly gathered all survivors in the maintenance bay, wasting very little time. First and foremost, he glanced at the ill-fated corridor where they had all met defeat at the hands of the monster waiting on the other side. The loss of life it was capable of producing was astounding, unsettling. Gibson still had the image of a decapitated man lingering in his mind.

"Justin, how's that LASER doing?"

Justin inspected its exterior with due diligence, raising his brow, peering into the scope, mindful to point it in a non-occupied corner of the bay. One brief rundown of the various captions continually refreshing their data and Justin deftly set the weapon down at his side, nodding in reply.

"Okay." Gibson sighed. "I don't have a plan. I…suppose we don't really need one."

"It's not complicated." Justin replied, buttressing his right hand down the brawn of the prototype chassis. "Just go in, scope it out and handle business. I'll leave the technical stuff about the Pelican to you." Justin shifted his eyes and stole a glance at Sergei. "You'll know if there's any special procedure to run through."

"Actually, there is no—"

"—so let's do this and be done with it." Justin cut in. "Sooner we get airborne, the better." He hoisted the weapon at shoulder height once more, gesturing for all to move towards the next and final corridor with his free hand. "Move out."

---

Justin and Gibson formed the head of the group as they neared the end of the hall, the hatchway beckoning just ahead—still shut. A deep-red glow covered all their faces, masking anyone's true intent.

Gibson brought in close to Justin. "When?" he whispered.

"I don't know. We haven't had a lot of time to prepare for this. But it has to be unexpected or he'll suspect it coming. So I can't really say when. We'll just have to play it by ear."

Gibson nodded. "We'll finally get him, Justin." the admin's bubbly face expanded as its muscles contracted in an oily smile. "Just like old times."

"Keep quiet, they're right behind us."

---

Justin spun around at the hatch and waited for the rest to near. As they began to gather, he retrieved from one of his pockets a small roll of self-vulcanizing tape that he'd lifted from one of the stockyard's many cages the last time he was there. He stretched out two lengths of the adhesive to about a half-meter each, tore them off and wrapped an assault rifle to the LASER, doubling his immediate combat effectiveness. One band adjoining the muzzles and another band mating the stocks, wrapped tight. He bonded them together like warrior brothers as he hovered over the deck in a half-courch, uttering, "I hope everyone's ready."

Gibson began loosening the rotary lock as best he could, his acrid sweat glands now on overdrive inside the cramped, watertight confines.

"Alright," Justin said, "hopefully this is the last time we'll do this." He patted the hybrid rifle in his hands. "I need everyone to stay extra sharp this time. Kill the little critters or at least keep them at bay. You cover for me and I'll wipe the floor with that big bastard in there. Does anyone need any time to themselves now before we do this?"

No answer.

"Okay then. I need two volunteers to go in first and make sure the entryway is clear of hostiles. Check the floor, check the walls, and check the ceiling in our immediate area."

Ken stepped forward, then Kaiser Sergei.

Justin held up a hand towards the Kaiser. "Not…you."

"I'll take his place." Joe announced. "Don't want there to be any added tension now, do we?"

"Brave thing you're doing, guys. It's gonna secure our escape." Justin reached out with his free hand and briefly clenched both volunteers' shoulders.

Justin spun around. "Open?"

Gibson looked up from his efforts and frowned at Justin, instantly resuming his strenuous misgivings unto the torqued lock.

"Here," Justin said strolling up, "take the prototype for a second. Let me do that."

Gibson accepted and reared away, nearly dropping the weapon as he wiped his brow with a sleeve. Justin snapped the lock loose with one, swift twist. Within a few seconds, he had the dial freewheeling. The dog ears had swiveled completely away, though he didn't open it just yet.

Joe and Ken instantly stepped forward upon Gibson relinquishing his hold of the MA5B-LASER to Justin.

Ken inched closer and slowly nudged the door open with the muzzle of his firearm, glancing all about the ground outside the hatch. Joe stuck his head out as well, glancing high above at the support trusses bounding between the ceiling and walls like a digital sawtooth pulsetrain.

"Clear." Ken said.

"Clear." Joe echoed.

Justin proceeded forth, gently pushing the two brave volunteers aside and further into the bay. He lingered right outside the threshold, the remaining survivors filing out behind him, readying their weapons as they gauged their surroundings.

They each stole glances of their own at independent vectors, perhaps reluctant to move onward as the monstrous pure form and all its cohorts lingered clear on the other side of the expansive underground hangar. It was then that all survivors noticed an obtuse amount of infection forms occupying the far reaches as well, more than ever before.

Justin scowled at the sight. "There is no way in or out of this place except the hatchway, so how the fuck do they get in here?"

The answer would soon become apparent.

Towering twice as tall as its kin, the pure form exuded overt attentiveness and began closing its distance to the survivors at the same pace they had. It craned its 'neck' high, spewing nearly a dozen infection forms to the deck like a fountain of chunky sewage. Upon that instant, all other EBEs wheeled around and mirrored the colossal beast, inching forward with proportionate caution.

"Shoot it…now." Gibson cried. "Do it! Before it comes any closer!"

Justin already had the eye cup of the scope situated over his brow, taking a knee. "I know." he replied coolly.

Justin depressed the trigger—hopefully for the last time—and a pencil-fine red lance instantly materialized, placing a fine dot right in center mass of the pure form. Justin waited.

As the internal components warmed up and slowly worked up to a resonant crescendo, the monster dead ahead huffed one voluminous breath and let loose the most dreadful, horror-inducing howl anyone had ever heard. Anything metal was doused in beat-frequencies and droned with the roar's harmonics. Through the midst of a large mist-cloud expelled from its massive lungs, it charged.

"C'mon." Justin whispered. "Do your thing." He stole glances at each readout in his display while keeping the proper aim, hoping they'd retain the same values they had earlier when the weapon had all but quelled an entire battle outside.

Everything was in the green so far.

The monster now lumbering down on their position was currently in the state of the humanoid form—the one that withstood immense punishment. Its pounding footsteps could now be felt through the deck, gentle tremors reverberating into Justin's grounded knee. The monster only had about twenty steps to go when the miniscule targeting beam suddenly quadrupled in girth and stopped it in its tracks.

Justin swiveled the scope away from his right eye to assess the aftermath.

The pure form exceeding ten feet in height stood motionless where it was struck, teetering, on the verge of staggering backward. It doubled over and looked down upon its wound, a hole punched clean through its mid section about the diameter of a grapefruit. Stringy puss dripped down from the inside. It glanced up with sudden ferocity, its 'face' contorting with raw hatred. It charged.

Justin instantly squeezed the trigger again as everyone opened fire.

Justin saw with quite amazing acuity the various rounds impacting every square inch of the pure form's incredibly tough hide as he reacquired aim. The thin, red light was there—the only real assurance.

"Aim for the neck!" Chris screamed over all the gunfire. "Take off its head!"

Justin did as the boy said and reared upwards, a little too upwards, the pure form alarmingly close. Justin held his ground and faithfully tracked the monster until it was right on top of him.

The weapon bucked like an untamable stallion and light bright as a supernova discharged from the aperture. The LASER fired. A fleeting beam of ruby-red destruction sliced straight through the pure form's 'neck' and then terminated 500 meters distant into one of the steel support trusses, melting its longitudinal mount.

Its body crumpled at first, slowly losing its rigidity and no longer able to prop up its own mass. After a moment, it finally began leaning over for a glorious crash to the epoxy-resin deck. Justin rolled out of the way before the flaccid body smacked the hard ground. It rebounded upwards exactly once before coming to a rest.

The staccato rattles of firearms discharging heavily in the ambiance were all but drowned out of cognizance as Justin loomed over his fallen, alien enemy. For a moment, he studied its head lying a few feet away while all others fanned out and destroyed whatever lesser threats they could locate. Justin hoisted the LASER over his shoulder. "The bigger they are..."

"All combat forms neutralized." Joe declared.

Justin looked up from the pure form's bulk and scanned the periphery. "Confirmed." he replied.

"Damn, I'm out." Gibson cursed, throwing his spent weapon to the deck. "Doesn't matter now, does it?" he cried at the pure form's severed head.

"The others," Chris said after destroying two infection forms, "there were more of them. Where'd they go? Anybody see?"

"Probably crawled up to the ceiling while we were distracted." Justin replied. "You got most of them, so leave 'em be for now. I don't need you wandering off and getting into trouble. No one should be stationary!" Justin shouted. "We don't want them dropping in unannounced, so everyone keep a watch over your surroundings and stay in motion. A moving target is a hard target."

"Can we sit inside the Pelican?" Chris asked. "Like, in shifts?"

"Yes, but not too many people." Justin wheeled all around and spoke up, "If anyone gets tired, go in the hallway or in the Pelican, but don't crowd Ken or Gibson while they do pre-flight checks. Ken, do what it is you do. Get that bird warmed up for flight. Gibson, see if you can perform some deception operations on the aliens, confuse and deceive. I'm gonna stand guard on the entrance."

Justin turned and made for the hatchway, keen to get a look at the innards of the Pelican's rear bay as he walked off. A brief, sidelong glance was all he'd get.

In the middle running in a straight line, blocks of batteries spanned the length of the hold from the head of the fuselage to the tail, surrounding what could only be the core of the FTL drive. It was a massive conglomerate of hardware—almost too massive—standing high enough to nearly reach the ceiling. The drive and all its ancillary equipment claimed most of the occupancy and yielded barely enough leg room for passengers to sit comfortably on either side of it. Thick, stamped-steel flanges mated the contraption to the Titanium flooring. The Grade 12.9 fasteners easily anchored down its bulk to prevent it from moving anywhere, the raised bolt heads jutting high off the deck like railroad spikes. Justin had never seen a slipspace drive before. This was most certainly a scaled-down unit—only possessing enough quantum-manipulative capability to pass this amount of ship through the slipstream, diminutive in comparison to the mass of a cruiser or frigate. Elegant in its application, it was just the right amount of brute force for the job.

A familiar voice echoed throughout the cavernous bay with booming authority, just as it did in the factories, the stockyards, both cafeterias, both medical wings, the main courtyard, the entire city…

"Attention, all aliens: please report to the admin district for your quarterly meeting. You've been very naughty and unruly, and this issue needs addressing. Arrive promptly within fifteen minutes. Refreshments and humans will be provided. Don't be late."

Gibson hung the networked handset back on its receiver and proceeded back to the Pelican with a smug grin.

"Hey!" Sergei shouted. "What's all this inside the Pelican? Is that what I think it is?"

"Surprise, surprise." Justin responded.

Chris jogged up for a view inside as well, suddenly stopping in place. The sight inside the Pelican was one that evaded his understanding for a brief moment, then his eyes widened. "A slipspace drive." He turned to face Justin now walking away. "You were just playing games with us this whole time, you and Gibson."

Justin glanced over his shoulder at the kid and winked.

"Comes complete with a Class Five A.I. too." Gibson said. "For the jump calculations, among other things."

Then, as Justin walked off, a noticeable break in his stride occured. Justin suddenly came to grips with something pressing. In the very near future, Sergei was needed dead. Just one last hurdle to overcome, morally defunct to some but just another necessary evil. He then looked back over his shoulder again and found Layla's eyes in the distance, his saving grace, his new reason for carrying on with escape.

She casually reloaded her shotgun, topping it off with two shells and racking the weapon smoothly as she strolled back to the vicinity of the Pelican. Something in the way she moved with that weapon in her grasp excited Justin. He couldn't quite explain it, himself. She smiled wide at Justin as she drew in, then she gestured about with her arms spread wide, the lengthy shotgun an extension of her body. "We got 'em good."

Justin nodded and returned the smile before proceeding onto his chosen place of duty, once again musing of a better life together in some other place.

"Look out behind you!" someone cried.

Everyone wheeled around, but it was Layla who now had to face a trio of infection forms descending from high above, already within striking distance the instant they impacted the floor with that disconcerting, wet smack!

One of them bounded forth and latched onto her shotgun before she could take aim. She backpedaled as fast as she could while several tentacles lashed outwards vying for her unprotected flesh, groping for an insertion point. "You're not taking me! You slimy fucks!"

She wrestled with the parasite, her body contorting for leverage much like the many appendages of the infection form now closing the distance as she desperately fought for precious life. Layla threw the shotgun forward with a thrust of her arms and it clattered to the deck along with the creature, but the other two parasites' endeavors fared fataly better.

"No!" Justin cried, running forth.

"Somebody save her!" Chris hollered.

Their fruitless cries echoed throughout the cavernous bay.

It was slow at first. The whole, brutal act was surreal as the other survivors watched in awe.

The infection forms swarmed her writhing body.

The other humans ran a little closer, but this time more slowly as if knowing it was foolhardy to do so. Everyone except Justin.

They remained where they were and prayed for Layla as the parasites jockeyed with one another at being the first and only to claim her body and mind. Justin snatched a pistol from one of his pockets and took terribly careful aim. He squinted to block out some of the ambient light and focused as hard as he could. He fired off one bullet. It lodged right inside Layla's strained quadracep, killing the infection form clinging to it. Justin wasn't fast enough to sight up another target. One such parasite skittered around the left side of her rib cage and mounted her back while the other swarmed her vision. It slipped its toxin into her spine. Then, she turned to face the other survivors who were pleading for a miracle.

"Get away...from me!"

"No, I won't!" Justin cried, running toward her at full speed. Within seconds, he lost all forward momentum and halted as he suddenly accepted what was taking place. She was already changing, no longer the girl he'd known and loved. His abrupt stop came as though his legs suddenly rejected the brain's commands. He watched as she became tranquil as a beached starfish right before the parasite completely grappled her nervous system. It only took a few seconds, but to him it seemed like a lifetime as he witnessed the frightening detail of it all.

First, her body went rigid. Her entire skeletomuscular system was in shock, readjusting to a foreign master. Then, she convulsed where she stood, her nerves under forced calibration. The skin of her slender forearms cracked and split open, giving birth to a cluster of fresh tentacles ready for mutilation. Justin dropped to his knees.

No one could do anything as her body began to thrash wildly, nearly losing balance altogether. The monster beneath was starting to emerge.

Justin bent his face to the deck and cried heavy tears. "Why her?" He remained there, choosing not to witness the duration.

What was once Layla's fair, lovely face was now knotted up with nodules of puss and displaced facial bones, barely recognizable. The sickly green swelled up from underneath and spread over the entirety of her epidermis as she had finished the metamorphosis within seconds at the bidding of the parasite now reigning over her mind.

It looked up and glued its horrid, cloudy-eyed gaze upon each of them.

Hendricksson—now the closest human to it—backpedaled slowly. "Justin, I think gotta take it out."

The weeping leader didn't respond. He heard nothing anymore but his own sobs drowning out the reality encompassing him.

"I'm gonna have no choice if it attacks." Joe warned again with a reluctant levelheadedness.

The humanoid howled and raised its deadly forelimbs.

It was now a combat form.

It rushed forth with murderous intent.

The last sound it ever processed was the thunderous blast of a shotgun round ripping through its host's body.

---

Everyone had congregated near the Pelican in Justin's absence, watching him pensively as he doubled himself over a rinse station near the diagnostic benches just outside the hatchway. It wasn't strange, his behavior, at least not by normal expectations. Many people might've acted out a considerable amount greater than Justin had: with ear-piercing screams and fits of crying that lasted hours, violence against inanimate objects or even people, firing all of one's ammunition until the clip ran dry, contemplating suicide. Justin did nothing of the sort. He was quiet as a pacified baby, save for the sobbing prior to sauntering over to the sink to wash away the grime built up on his swelling face.

It was going on fifteen minutes of repeatedly cupping water in his hands, splashing his face in them, the tears perpetually flowing despite there being no sounds of sorrow in the air. How long had it been since the man actually cried? Not a single person in sight had the answer.

It came as a sudden shock to everyone upon him finally departing the sink, Justin gently twisting the valve shut. He didn't make eye contact with anyone upon making his way back to the middle of the bay, but his lucidity appeared to remain intact—not the brain case some might have feared he'd become. Anyone could've been fooled by his present demeanor, for he carried on with the resolve they had come to know him for. With his step only slightly slower than usual, he scooped up his LASER rifle where he'd dropped it after vanquishing the pure form.

"How long until she's ready?" Justin leveled his bloodshot eyes at Gibson. "The Pelican."

Gibson's response was quick and blunt. "Thirty minutes, tops."

"Good. I'm gonna keep watch on the hatchway and cover our six. I should see no one standing still."

At that, everyone found something to do whether it was helping Gibson and Ken in the Pelican or checking on their weaponry, anything to stay occupied and alert on their surroundings. The threat of the infection forms lurking about was still real, and an attack on another misfortunate victim could easily come to pass again.

Justin spun around and walked off.

It was then that Chris took notice of a change in Justin—not overt in the least. It in fact, it took the boy a second glance to notice something was different about him. Chris tried to keep his concentration and cleared an aisle on the right-hand side of the FTL drive, but something was wrong. He dropped his belongings and strode to the Pelican's ramp, intently watching Justin walk away.

"Hey, Chris, thanks for your help clearing up the bay." he heard Ken say from the cockpit.

Chris forgot to reply, simply held his gaze upon Justin Reid departing the rest of them.

It was as if Justin had no destination in sight despite declaring his intents for the time being. Yes, he was off to keep a watchful eye, but that just might've been his only charge left in life if going by appearances alone, the way he carried himself. Fatigue could've been the culprit for such a somnolent posture Justin held as he shuffled his heavy feet over to the workshop area. But if Chris had learned anything about Justin during his time on Traxus IX, it was that Justin—when it came to a mission—was nought a slouch.

Finally, after what seemed like a journey, Justin settled into an area amidst the stacks of equipment, pacing to and fro just outside the hatchway. He placed the LASER rifle atop a waist-height section of wire shelving and folded his arms over his chest, staring at the entrance.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Justin had more to deal with than just guard duty.

A mighty weapon you have,
But it cannot destroy pain.
She lives her life with me now.
Solitude is now your reign.
The season is much too cold.
Join me and never grow old.
Defy the will of your God.

Together, we'll clout the odds.

Side by side, we'll march as one.
We'll grow our world together,
Many corpses in one grave.
So, why do the fearful run,
When life can last forever?
No longer you'll be a slave,
When you join your voice with mine.

Immune to the test of time.

Chris sauntered over to him.

Justin paid the boy a glance as he neared, but went back to watching the hatchway, no particular expression about him.

Chris kept his distance. "Hey."

"Hey."

Chris chose a spot underneath the small awning protruding over the workshop in the corner. He scrutinized about four-hundred square feet of ceiling over his head before letting down his guard and taking a seat on the epoxy-resin. "Whatchu up to?"

"You're looking at it." Justin maintained his watch on the open doorway and the corridor beyond.

"I'm really sorry about Layla. She was good people."

"I know."

After paying appropriately brief respects, Chris thought about leaving as his conversation was customarily of little impact to Justin. But something couldn't let him leave.

Justin may've been tough, a hard nut to crack, adamant in his determination even upon losing what he loved most, but Chris knew that anyone—no matter who they were or what they'd previously been through—would surely change after something that traumatic had transpired. Chris remained but withheld his judgment for the time being.

"What did you mean when you said that some thing convinced you to join the Corps? At the mouth of the cave, that's what you said. What did you mean by that?"

Justin's to-and-fro pace slowed. The ex-commander gazed low and searched for words among the texture of the floor, eyes half lost in a memory.

"There was a time in my life when I once loved unconditionally. I had a woman waiting for me at the end of every deployment. Those were the better times. I joined the United Earth Space Corps to end the fighting." Justin said almost righteously, a morsel of passion outshining. "I joined to put down the rebellion that was tearing apart the galaxy. There was justice in that. There was justice in love. And then when the Covenant showed up, justice became a lesser concern. The War we knew was forgotten. Fighting for justice turned into a fight for survival. And I started to accept that things inevitably change, because she changed. And then when I came here, justice disappeared entirely. Enough time spent in a place like this and you seem to forget that it slips away, everything you held on to…just like she did. Everything you had, everything that was familiar to you, it loses all meaning. Everything is grey, like the sky, just grey…"

Chris couldn't think of anything to say. Even if there was something to say, he didn't know how to say it. Chris might've summoned some sort of response. Those appropriate, consoling words were right on the tip of his tongue. His thoughts, however, were ineffable this moment. Chris felt uneasiness in simply standing with no rejoinder to offer the conversation. What was worse: Justin never needed a friendship, never asked for one.

"What's the first thing you're gonna do when you leave here?" he asked intently. "Where you gonna go?"

"I got no plans for the future here or any place else."

"C'mon…you got a lot to look forward to, Justin."

"Income tax."

Chris laughed. "You still got that cynical humor about you. That's what I like. That's the Justin I know. Can I bum a smoke?"

Justin lazily reached into his pocket much in the way Pete would, as if it was a chore to do so. He carelessly tossed the pack over to Chris, who took a single cigarette out for himself.

Chris visually paused, his body inanimate with trouble swelling his eyes. He thought it extremely odd just now that Justin furnished him an entire pack of cigarettes, with no strings attached, a quick handout without incident, free and clear. Cigarettes were a favored addiction, a treasured frivolity and a traded commodity on Traxus IX and were never in good supply among the group. Justin always handed over one, single, solitary smoke if anyone ever asked for one—never the whole pack. Odder still, Justin didn't even reach to take them back. Before Chris could ask why, the ex-Captain extended a flaming lighter. Chris leaned forward.

"You gonna look her up when you get back, Justin?" The boy sucked on the filter, pulling the flame inward with an audible crackle. Once lit, he reared back again.

Reid's thumb hovered over the flint wheel as he stared back at Chris. "What for?"

"You tell me." Chris said thrusting the pack of cigarettes back into Justin's space.

"Well…what the Hell for? She couldn't take it and I don't blame her. She's probably married and moved on." Justin sparked up a smoke for himself, took in the first drag and winced. "…And I'm still here." He exhaled slowly and then took another long, slow draw on the filter, the hollow of his cheeks dimpling inward. He stared blankly ahead for a moment.

Chris' incessant stare demanded eye contact. "Eh, but not for long, right? We're gonna leave, and then we'll be free. We can all start our lives over in a new world."

No response.

There was a brief, almost unnerving moment of silence as Chris continued to scrutinize Justin. Reid was thinking about something. That much, Chris knew. But of what? So deep in thought, Justin savored the nicotine for the moment and gingerly inhaled on the cigarette again, watching the smoke percolate toward the ceiling as he exhaled.

"Still think about her?" Chris asked.

"Used to be every minute, then once a day. About twice a year I get a kick in the chest. Funny thing is I can't remember what she looked like."

"Liar." Chris smiled.

"Gimme a break, it was ten years ago since I last saw her. No woman for ten years. I never thought I'd smell the skin of a lady again or feel the strands of a woman's hair in my fingertips."

"Until Layla."

The lighter fell from Justin's grasp, clattering to the ground near his boots. "Layla was—"

"—the best thing that ever happened to you here, I know. But there's always love out there. Justin, you will find it. I know there's no replacing a girl like her, but there's always someone out there that can take away the pain. You can start over, but you have to be willing to wait. And you have to be strong. Promise me you'll be strong."

Justin grinned. "Always a catch. Kid, you've always been so keen to make that apparent, you know that?" Justin's eyes dulled over. "Seems that every time I get to liking someone, they ain't around very long."

Chris stood up. "I've noticed that when you dislike someone, they ain't around for very long either."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw what you did to Jaggo."

Justin smiled bitterly and tapped the cigarette's ashes to the ground. "You saw that, huh?"

"Yep."

"Well, Hell, I was hoping no one would ever find out what really happened back there, especially you. Guess sometimes you learn of life's ugly traits sooner than you'd like."

Chris scoffed. "Life's ugly traits? There's no such thing as that, Justin; it's the ugliness in people. And I never thought I'd see that in you." Chris looked around and sighed, "I know why you did what you did. No, really, I understand you perfectly. You thought it was the right thing to do. You'd be protecting us all. I know I'm young and people don't think much of me, but I do know that there were other ways to handle the Kaiser and his men. So I just want you to know that while we're still friends, our friendship has changed. Things are different between us now…and it can never be the same again."

"If ridding a threat to our survival means you think less of me, then so be it. I can live with that. I never held myself in high esteem anyway."

"Alright," Chris said resolutely, "just so you know."

"Fine by me." Justin said impassively.

"Oh, and while we're on the subject of shedding truth, I think Sergei deserves to know what happened to his friend."

"You think a man like that has friends?"

Chris glanced to the middle of the bay, then back at Justin. "What are we gonna do with Layla's body?"

"Burn it."

"You're not gonna bury her?"

"No, we don't bury those things. We burn them. She's not one of us anymore."

Chris was rather taken back by that statement, but it was correct: the cold, hard truth was that she was no longer human. "But we buried Pete."

Justin's eyes turned bright with rage. "I don't have to answer you. Just...go over to the Pelican and make yourself useful for a a change."

Chris turned from Justin Reid and walked away.

---

"…And that's what really happened to Jaggo." Chris said.

Sergei's eyes brimmed with confusion for a moment before finally accepting Chris' word. He nodded. "Well, I appreciate the honesty, kid. It won't ever be forgotten."

"Sure." Chris spun around and headed for the rear hold of the Pelican, anywhere just to avoid the wretched sight of Justin for the moment. Before he could accomplish even one step, two infection forms dropped to the ground right in front of him. Chris froze.

"Help! Someone!"

Chris backpedaled but tripped over his own footing, both him and the weapon in his hand crashing to the ground. Chris was unable to move fast enough to avoid his own demise as they darted forth to claim his body.

Chris pressed his eyes shut and prayed someone would shoot him before he could harm anyone.

But the only thing he registered in the next instant was a single gunshot, then a rush of air as something large swept over his body. He opened his eyes and saw Kaiser Sergei looming over him and pistol whipping the last remaining infection form, the creature bursting into an expanding ball of puss and fungal ribbons, his clothes showered in alien gore.

Sergei was nearly sprawled out over Chris and about to fall over himself, but slowly regained his balance, stowing his pistol back inside his thick jacket. "Kid, next time, move outta the way so I can get a clear shot. It almost got you."

Chris was once again at a loss for words as he stared upwards, spellbound at the spectacle of his unlikeliest of saviors, Kaiser Sergei.

The most notorious criminal in existence looked on the many faces that looked at him—with nothing but sincere gratitude beaming from the majority of them. Sergei looked down again and held out a hand. Chris diligently accepted, yanked up to standing height next to the towering man. "Actually, let's hope there isn't a next time."

"I don't know what to say." Chris said.

"I believe you're supposed to say thanks!" Bill shouted from the cover of the Pelican.

Chris gazed back into Sergei's empty eyes. "…Thanks."

Kaiser Sergei bent down, scooped up Chris' weapon, leaned forward and placed it back in his hand.

"Think nothing of it."

---

Chris claimed a seat inside the Pelican's rear hold. The space was cramped, but that didn't matter. He still had his life, thanks to Kaiser Sergei—who was currently sitting under the Pelican's wingtip outside. Chris thought about joining the man, but chose not to for two reasons.

-The danger was still prevalent outside and Chris was still too shaken to venture there, the fear still too near to him.

-It would certainly give off the wrong impression to those like Justin and Gibson. Chris chose to take a neutral stance for the time being, cautiously diplomatic and not taking any side. He began to think if he should've been that way from the start.

The boy checked himself for any scratches or nicks or anything the parasites may've inflicted on him—nothing, just the now-dried puss that caked his jacket. He sighed in relief, checking his wiry nerves by kneading his hands. Bill strolled up the Pelican's ramp, Joe Hendricksson in tow.

"Hello, my son." Bill greeted, pulling up excess slack from his robe as he ascended the mild incline.

"Hey, you two."

Joe nodded, choosing silence for the moment.

Bill stood next to Chris, wincing as he squirmed between the hard, unforgiving battery blocks. "How are you?"

"A little tense, but good. Trying to come down off adrenaline. That infection form scared me nearly stiff."

"I noticed you with Justin earlier. How how do you think he is coping?"

"I tried to talk to him. Whole conversation backfired on me."

"What did you say? Is he willing to listen to you? Or still no?"

"Can't really remember what I said," Chris winced at the thought of Justin standing alone out there with his own thoughts, "but I'm not sure if it did him more harm than good. He doesn't even seem like Justin to me anymore. I just don't know what to do. Maybe you do."

"Well, of course he's not himself, kid." Joe said. "He just lost someone special to him. Hell, I liked her too and I hardly knew 'er. I'd say it's perfectly normal to go bat shit crazy at a time like this. Just give him some space. That's all you can give a man."

"I don't know if that's the best thing to do right now, Joe...even if it is Justin we're talking about. He's the strongest, yes, we know that." Chris turned to Bill. "Can you go out there and make sure I didn't make his situation worse? He really needs a friend right now, Bill."

"Justin is his own man, Chris. He makes his own choices and has always readily stood accountable for them. Don't dwell on what is already behind you. Look ahead now, for everything is about to change again."

"What do you mean?"

Bill then took a seat. The others sat with him.

"Justin has to come to terms with certain things he always had trouble accepting."

"Like what?"

"We all arrived to this world at the same time. Me, Ken, Pete, Justin and his Marines. We shared the same experiences. We who survived waited nearly a decade for...something. Never sure what. We just knew somehow that anything other than what we knew here would be better. Turned out that the something was the decent folk stranded here. God has always tested us, tested Justin many times. When we were abandoned, when he found Layla. I'm sure he'd laugh at the notion, but he looked out for her nonetheless. Then you two came along, and it was once again our obligation to see you along. Always, the Lord's tested us. We've seen many others come and go, sometimes not in the way we would have liked. Understand that Justin's mind sees the world in black and white."

"So he commits and never changes? And that's why he can't move on? Is that what you mean?"

"No, that's not what I meant. What I meant is that it's difficult for him by his nature to understand anything in between, but I think after all his time spent in this world and what is about to happen, he will very soon understand redemption. So, while Justin guards himself, it doesn't mean he distrusts you."

"What's about to happen?"

"We'll need to let him decide that, as he has one last test to pass."

"Why is he like this to me?!" Chris shouted, stopping Bill. "Why can't I ever help?!"

Bill then paused while searching for the right words. "We all fell on black days. Some more than others." Bill sighed, careening his sight to where Justin remained. "Don't feel that a burden should be placed upon you to intervene, Chris. You can't save him. He'll need to save himself this time. Excuse me, I must pray."

Bill Santhouse turned and walked away.

---

Justin sparked his lighter and held it against the alcohol-doped wick of the Molotov Cocktail. He let the fabric douse itself in flame before bringing it closer to light the cigarette hanging from his puckered lips. He withdrew the flaming bottle, took a long, slow drag of the smoke and breathed deep. He gazed upon all those still in the bay.

"The duty of a soldier is not just to execute the will of a people, it is also to protect the innocent. Each one of us is a soldier that carries out the will of our common pact, survival. But Layla was innocent and we failed to protect her. In the face of this failure, we must find a way to carry on and endure once again because the one lying before us in death was only once human. To be put to rest in earth is a universal dignity that shall not be denied of anyone. Stand here, and let what is about to happen serve as a reminder to that."

Justin chucked the glass bottle at the mangled, disfigured corpse lying inert before them. The body instantly turned aflame upon its shattering. The flickering yellow-orange demon tails blossomed higher and higher as the skin of the body cooked away. For five minutes they all watched, each individual alone with their laments and prayers. Everyone still in the bay had gathered closer to one another and watched as the last flames dancing over Layla's charred bones died out. Sergei chose to watch in solitude, the man of the hour still residing under the Pelican's wingtip some distance away. Motes of carbonized skeleton flakes lazily ascended in a spiral column above their heads, the necrotic flesh and tentacles of the parasite long melted away. One by one, survivors left Layla's funeral pyre and morbidly carried on with their escape preparations. Only Justin and Ken remained once the smoke disappeared moments later.

Justin turned away from the blackened patch before his feet.

---

"Beautiful, ain't she?" Ken said.

"Indeed."

They stood side by side, taking in the sight of the Pelican resting before them. Its angular, RAM-coated hull reflected light away.

Justin glanced upward.

The muted glow of days typical here streamed in along with a cool air as Gibson cleared the overhead launchbay doors from some unseen location. The ceiling split down the middle and the twin, massive concrete partitions receded into the bedrock that flanked them, City 17's courtyard pulling itself apart. A modicum of brass casings spilled over along with a charred, twisted Mongoose chassis. In slow motion, the distant objects plummeted to the flooring below, the series of impacts just insignificant little ripples in the pond of time. Justin then swept his gaze across the composite panels riveted to the Pelican's hull, gave the bird a once over with his careful eye. He glanced over at Ken, who had been staring at him for what looked like a good while. The ex-aviator's gaze was anything but cool and focused. It was sweet sorrow, Justin gathered, this parting with the only existence they'd known for this long, harsh decade. In some ways, Justin may've felt dependent on this spoon-fed existence that a Traxus IX life was. Institutionalized—that's what lifelong prisoners and criminal psychologists would call it. Maybe they were.

But nothing could sway their decision to escape this ill-fated world.

"I was remembering that day at Reach." Justin said. "Pete got chased by that cloud of bees. Damn, that was hilarious. And that bar there. That bartender had that—"

"—had that monkey. Yeah, I remember."

"Yeah, the beach." Justin sighed contently, imagining the waves before him. "We sat there the whole damned day drinking beer looking out at those humpbacks blow."

"You watched the whales, Justin. I was watching other things."

"True." Justin grinned toothily. "I think we should go back there. I'd like to see that again."

"What, girls' volleyball?"

"Yeah," Justin smirked, "why not?"

Soon, their laughter was just another instance claimed by another moment, an apathetic interval of time. Their smiles eventually faded as they spent however much time resting their gazes on their escape vessel, their sweet salvation. Ken looked back to Justin.

"There's something you need to know before we leave this place for good."

Justin stared at the acute angles making up the Pelican's contours. "I'm listening."

"It was ten years ago, the reason why we're all stuck here." Ken glanced about the deck in front of him uneasily. "…Major Renault wasn't really the one who ordered you to shoot that kid."

Justin turned and squared his shoulders at Ken. The sounds of fleeting memories rang loudly in his ears, the voices lost in the moments that now swarmed his vision. Ken blurred from sight as Justin immersed himself ten years in the past. "What do you mean?" his voice trailed off.

Justin remembered the convoy into the outskirts of the city. In plain sight, he could see the large, brass doorknob of the brothel they were ordered to infiltrate as he dismounted the Warthog. His sergeant reduced the doorway into long, slender splinters with the aid of a battering ram and they charged in single file, taking up positions around the atrium. Sergei had the young boy in his grasp, pistol brandished at his head. Justin remembered hearing the radio, remembered the hesitation throbbing through his trigger finger the instant he received the order. Time seemed to slow down as he pictured that day.

The day he spent the last ten years trying to forget.

The day he received that heartless, fateful command from his superior officer. Then take the bystander out!

The day he pulled the wrong trigger for the UNSC.

The day his entire squad was annihilated.

The day his chain of command abandoned him.

The day he lost everything.

The day his life sentence began on Traxus IX.

Ken came back into focus, his face now wracked with a disgraceful combination of remorse and fear. Fear resultant of the look in Justin's fiery eyes.

Justin's gaze bored thoughtfully into Ken's as everything regained focus.

"The order didn't come from the Major?" He immediately put two and two together and smiled bitterly. "Gibson."

Ken nodded. "Renault issued the order, but it was Gibson who wanted Sergei no matter what the cost. Renault didn't even question the administrator's request."

"Why did you pick today to tell me this?"

"You have a conscience to clear, I do too. There was no way I could leave with that on my chest. I had to come clean."

"Why didn't you come out with it earlier?"

"I would have, Justin, but I wanted you to live. The NMA did what they did and if you knew it was Gibson, you would've wanted revenge. You would have been killed like everyone else if you went ahead and took it. I kept it to myself all these years for you, to protect you."

Justin stared at Ken for a moment. "Ignorance is bliss, eh?"

Ken wasn't sure what was going on inside Justin's mind; there was nothing on his face.

Instantly, Justin spun on a heel and strode towards the exit. "Thanks." he called over his shoulder.

Ken, just like anyone, could rarely be sure if Justin was sincere in what he said. Justin had been a professional soldier since his late teens with years of experience being able to control what was readable about him…but Ken knew that his friend of ten years, right then and there, showed perfect and sugarless gratitude in that moment.

Justin was almost out of sight when Ken shouted, "Where are you going?!"

Justin stopped just short of the entrance to the corridor and glanced back. "To get some advice from another friend!"

Justin disappeared beyond the hatch.

A ten-year weight lifted off Ken's shoulders. He flexed his slender forearms and looked back to the Pelican, his smile resurfacing again. "We're gonna need Carbon-Dioxide scrubbers and fuel cells!" Ken shouted at everyone. "Lots of 'em!"

---

Justin strode through the corridor.

Footsteps were the only sounds echoing through the lonely, dimly-lit path before him. He hurried his step to reach the other side, the hatchway there left partially open. A mere slice of light passed through and touched upon his face as he looked beyond the doorway. He stepped through the other side and looked around the bay. Bill lingered on the far side in solitude, sitting atop the raised loading ledge in front of the only open garage door, kicking his feet forward and back, his heels thudding gently against the face of the shelf.

Justin hung his head at the ground for most of the walk towards the priest, only intermittently establishing eye contact with the black satin-clad man of faith. Bill's full head of dark, wavy hair tinged a slight-grey under the ghostly-white glow from high above. Justin approached his side and merely stood for a moment, gathering thoughts. Another moment and he regarded Bill stoically, stating, "I know I'm not what you'd call a spiritual man, not in the least bit. I've never consulted you for advice. And I don't know—"

"—Justin, a friend can always help another friend. What is it that troubles you?"

"Ken told me everything." Justin pointed back toward the corridor.

"…Ah, yes, I felt the time would soon arrive when you came to terms with this once and for all. You're conflicted within."

"But part of it doesn't make any sense."

Bill smiled wryly. "A lot of things don't make sense. Haven't made sense in many years. But I suspect you're beginning to understand why."

"Well, you're the only one I know that can make sense out of senseless things. He saved Chris, Bill. Why would he do that? He had nothing to gain from it. Why?"

"Maybe it wasn't about personal gain this time."

"But is there anything else with him?"

"Maybe it was a genuine need to make amends. Maybe he always felt misunderstood."

"Bill," said Justin with a disparaging smirk, "I didn't come here for comic relief. The guy thinks he can saddle up at the last minute and everything's forgiven. I don't buy that. Do you buy that? And don't play the doe-eyed saint. This is real."

Bill endured Justin's banter and waited patiently for silence.

"…I'm not a saint, but I know that no human being, when you understand them, is worthless. No one's life is nothing. Even the people that would once seem evil to you can have some generous act that redeems them from their sins. I'm telling you this as your friend."

Justin's smile disappeared. His gaze hung a moment as he struggled for words, his breath evading him while he searched.

"I know it's not at all logical to have faith, Bill, you just do it because it's all you have. But does Sergei saving Chris justify the life that was taken ten years ago? Does it all just balance out that way? I wouldn't think so. No. Guilt remains, Bill. It has to. It reminds us of who we are, what we've done. It sobers us, keeps us human."

"Yes, but who decides how long the torment of guilt perpetuates? Can you make that judgment?"

"…No."

"Do you think it has perpetuated long enough?"

"Who am I to think for others?"

"Exactly." Bill smiled and nodded at him. "Forgiveness is a hard pill to swallow."

"You're telling me?"

"…But I think the more prominent question you should be asking is if you've forgiven yourself, Justin."

Silence followed as Reid again struggled for some sense of normalcy, some semblance of the coping mechanism he'd known and reinforced for a decade.

"I know this is hard for you now, Justin. It's easier to continue moving in your same direction and to continue the hate, but what will it bring in the end? That is what you must ask yourself."

"I'll admit, I hardly know what's right anymore. Seems like my grasp keeps slipping a little each day, but the only thing I know for certain is that I killed that kid, Bill. God, I was the most useful fucking idiot! I obeyed. I panicked and I obeyed. But none of it could have been possible unless Sergei put that boy in the line of fire, which puts me and Sergei on the same playing field. Both of us are...how do you say...damned?"

Bill cleared his throat and spoke very firmly. "You came here for my advice and now I'm going to give it. You still have good in you, but you have to give it a chance. You have to make amends. Especially now that you know the truth."

Justin hung his head. "It's like trying to stop a moving cargo freighter and turn it around in an instant."

"You assumed the weightiest burden and put this world on your shoulders, Justin, and you faltered. But we all falter. There were many forces at work that day and for many days preceding it. Terribly-evil minds with ambitions greater than you could imagine. They clouded the world in more ways than one, you see. And they pawned you. I didn't even see it myself until it was too late, so you were not the only one blindfolded. You've atoned, Justin. Anyone can see you've atoned. You need to look beyond yourself this once because a new path is unfolding. Take it, or leave it. God gave us free will so that we could spend a lifetime earning joy and peace. We have all the power in this world, so we must find it in ourselves to make the correct choices every chance we get."

Justin stood straighter. "Then the only choice I see here is the lesser of two evils."

Bill smiled. "Then you've found it. But do not think of the solution as the least of negative outcomes. Think of it as the most correct choice on your part."

"I know what to do now."

Bill nodded. "Go and make your peace."

Justin grinned darkly, his eyes narrowing as slits. "Well, I'd very much like to do it with you as my witness."

---

Justin and Bill appeared into the hangar bay.

In the distance, they both saw Ken jogging down the extended ramp of the dropship, a new bounce in his step and a bright, contagious smile outshining beneath his aviator's helmet. Bill glanced to the side and smiled at Justin, who grinned heartily back at him as they walked further in.

Gibson, Joe and Chris had gathered near the cowling of the Pelican, Chris leaning up against it with surprising comfort, occasionally glancing upward through the cockpit windows.

Kaiser Sergei loitered in solitude much in the way Bill had earlier, seemingly deep in thought as he sat Indian style beneath the wingtip.

Ken jogged a few paces out into the open, stopped nearly dead-center of the bay, placing his hands on his hips, shouting, "She's ready! All aboard!"

Strolling nonchalantly into view beyond the ailerons that Kaiser Sergei sat under, Joe Hendricksson emerged into Justin's view. Hendricksson gave a subtle nod, wiping his palm over a face full of stubble, casting his glance downward at the lord of Traxus IX's criminal kingdom.

Ken strolled back towards the rear bay of the bird. "Damn, I'd never thought I'd sit behind the controls of one of these ever again. Time to dip the pen in the company ink!" Before heading back into the Pelican, he witnessed the almost telepathic dialogue between the two military commanders, his reluctance to proceed forward with the obligatory deed now evident. Ken steeled himself before giving it all away and prepared to lend a helping hand nonetheless.

Justin had reached the shadow under the tail of the Pelican, the perfect position to strike from; Joe and Ken could rely a great deal on Justin's speed and strength to quickly help them finish the job. But Justin did nothing. It was going on half a minute that the three of them stood idle in a triangular formation…and half a minute of staring at Kaiser Sergei. And before Ken or Joe could work up the nerve to make the first move, the Kaiser leapt from his place and struck out at Bill.

With a speed thought incapable by all, Kaiser Sergei brandished his pistol before anyone could react to the situation. He gritted his teeth. "Everyone do as I say or the preacher gets a bullet."

"There's no need for this anymore!" Chris shouted, running out from behind the bow of the Pelican. "It's over, we've left Traxus Nine! C'mon, man, we're practically there. Remember what we talked about earlier? Live and let live. Please...we can still work this out. You haven't gone too far. Put down the gun."

Justin watched it all unfold, slowly making his way up the Pelican's ramp, nearly unseen in the background.

"Why should I, kid?"

"Because you're not all bad, you know that."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you saved me from those creatures once or twice."

"I saved my own ass, I'm sure you're familiar with the strategy."

"You helped us get through the mines. You helped us get away."

"Once those creatures were killed and I had this Pelican, I would've killed you."

"No. You know that's not true."

"Kid, you'd have to be rotten as Hell to lead the kind of people I did. Justin and your so-called buds have been planning this for a while, I just beat 'em to the punch. They won't let this slide, either, so save the mediator role."

"But it's over. Look around. Our past is on this planet if we choose to leave it here, you said it yourself!"

Justin grasped the aft pillar in the Pelican's rear hold, hanging the majority of his body outwards. "Sergei, put the gun down and get on-board."

"What?" Gibson shouted. "Justin, wait, this isn't the way!"

"And why, Mister Gibson? Why is that?"

"Don't appease him. Not even to stall. Not even to save your friend. The man is venomous."

"And you?"

"Me?" Gibson asked incredulously. "What about me?"

"You've got some skeletons in the closet too." Justin stared squarely at him.

"The only thing I've ever been guilty of is bringing order to this city!"

A slight amount of color then began to surface on Gibson's face, his chest and shoulders swelling.

"And you're so good at doing it." Justin smiled darkly, his eyes narrowed again like twin razors cutting deeper. "You'll sacrifice any life to get it. And for what, a march of progress? Fucking...money?"

A moment passed.

"Reid," Gibson shuffled his weight, "it was just one. Okay? A casualty of war. Kid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Look, we had to go outside legal boundaries to bring down the criminal element back then, remember?"

"No, not really. Refresh my memory."

"A man like Sergei…you know he'd somehow slip through the cracks of due process and jurisdictional providence and any other bullshit that those liberal humanitarians would throw at us once we got him on trial."

"The mission was to arrest and detain until federal police could take custody. When did you take it upon yourself to modify our mission parameters?"

"Hey, I did no such thing! Only your commanding officer could have changed your mission."

"True, but he was working in your interests. Now, I will ask the question only once more. At what point did eliminating Sergei become the objective?"

"Justin, you of all people know Sergei's better off dead. You of all people know that our system of justice isn't capable enough these day—"

"—Yes, Mister Gibson, I do know that. And that's the reason you just lost your seat to him."

Gibson's eyes twitched wide with a mix of anger and fear. Fear—he glanced towards the corridor behind them. Time was running out for everyone while the scourge of alien infestation marched onward to anywhere it pleased. "Have you gone completely mad, Justin? What are you trying to accomplish here?!"

Justin answered the belligerent Gibson, but did so looking at Ken. "I'm doing what I should've done ages ago."

"I am the administrator! You can't do this to me! You will not do this to me!"

"Asshole, I've got the gun."

Gibson's lower lip quivered, then the eyes began to glaze over. "Reid, it was a sure-fire way to get a madman off the streets! I actually have to debate this with you while he's holding a gun to a preacher's head?! Just look at 'em, Reid. Always thinking, always conniving."

Justin's face was impassive, as usual.

Gibson suddenly molded his rage into a smooth, cautionary calmness, the tone of his voice level again. He stood straighter and pointed a finger outward. "Remember, he's the caged animal. He's planned this out. I'm not the real enemy here. Even if you think I am, killing me will only let you succeed in satisfying your own pent-up blood-lust…and you know it."

Justin waved Sergei onward with his pistol. "You comin' or not?"

Sergei glanced sidelong at the sniveling administrator with a derisive smile. "So long, Mister Mayor. Fine progress you've made here. Enjoy the rest of your incumbency."

The Kaiser hurriedly released the pistol previously pressed against Bill and jogged up the loading ramp, the bewildered priest instantly collecting himself and following without hesitation.

Justin regarded Gibson one last time as his hand hovered over the Pelican's hatch actuator. Chris, Hendricksson and Ken were the last to board.

"We're all animals, Gibson, even those things out there, but I see some of us are more human than others. Took me a while to figure that one out. And now I know why you've always been so afraid of everything. I guess now you can let that die as well."

"So, what, you gonna shoot me?" Gibson, the admin, chided. "Is this how it ends? Kill me here? Just like the killer you've always been?"

"Hell no. I don't need to kill you." Justin slammed the large push-button with a fist and the tail ramp began to close. "Something else designed just for that will take care of you soon enough. I've decided I'm not fit for killing anymore."

Gibson sighed heavily, then bowed his head toward the ground.

"Deep down," Justin said as the Pelican came to life, "you know you deserve this."

Within seconds, the thrusters spun up to full throttle for takeoff, drowning out Gibson's screams and leaving him to his fate.

---

The occupants in the rear hold seated themselves and reached for their restraint harnesses, snapping all four straps into their cam locks with audible clicks as the hull vibrated and slowly levitated. Higher and higher it hovered until the cockpit windows Ken looked through were now level with the support trusses, about to crest over the courtyard grounds of City 17. He cued landing gear retraction. With one last glance about the factories and the mighty Eastern spire now growing smaller beneath him, Ken offered a punkish smile to the world. They rose above the eluvium plains for once in their tortured tour of duty, their lives seemingly purgatorial for the last time. Ken felt an overwhelming sense of closure: him and everyone else were finally in the clear.

Were it so easy.

---

Everyone inside the rear bay smiled ear to ear. The Pelican rumbled with life as it ascended.

"And so ends the bloody business of the day." Sergei quipped. "Guess we won't be lending a hand to the less fortunate now." he grinned, tapping a knuckle against a bank of hybrid capacitor-batteries.

"The Doctor was going to unleash all those creatures on Traxus Nine eventually." Justin responded. "It's their ultimate end-experiment. We wouldn't have been able to make a difference."

Sergei's mouth dropped. "Talk about letting the fox guard the hen house. You know, Reid, this is the first casual conversation we've ever had."

Justin smiled like a friend would through the meshed network of batteries. "Don't get too used to it."

Sergei leaned back as tension left his restrained deltoid muscles.

"I have something to give you, Reid." Sergei grunted as he reached into a trouser pocket. Three metal ball-bearing chains dangled in his grasp, each of them linked to shiny dog tags. He tossed them high in the air over the energy containers. The tangled loops arced sharply downward into Justin's lap.

"From one warrior to another. I'm pretty sure I know who you are, now, and I believe these belonged to your NCOs. My hopes are that you won't be holding on to any vengeances after what's taken place here."

Justin splayed each of the ID chits out in his palm. They were unblemished and unbent, and he thought he detected a glint of polish recently applied. He read each name carefully and rubbed them gently with his thumb. "You were just defending yourself. The better man survived that day, is all."

"I'm sure they were fine boys with good families."

Justin pocketed the memorabilia and leaned his head back. Silence then permeated the vessel. For the occupants, it wasn't easily discernable how much altitude they'd attained. But instantly, light of the likes none of them had seen in ten years slammed into the Pelican like a quantum tsunami, flooding right through the cockpit windows.

The glow inside the ship was as bright as it was outside, as if the heavens occupied the vessel with them. The sight and the feeling of the radiance could be something truly divine, the forgotten warmth of it invigorating. Ken could be seen covering his face as he reached for the control to hover the Pelican. The pilot then activated 60% windscreen polarization and the light outside was easier to deal with.

"My God," the ex-aviator exclaimed, "I can't believe the sun is this bright!"

"Because we haven't seen it in so long." Justin said, unsnapping his harness. "Wait, Ken, don't go. Not yet. Keep her hovered. And open the hatch." Justin shot upward. "We've got all the time in the world. I need to see this."

Ken looked back through the partition and met Justin's eyes with a steadfast smile, reaching for the bay door override switch.

Cool air and healing sunlight streamed in.

Justin strode to the edge. For what seemed like the length of a blissful dream, they all stared into the sky as the Pelican held stationary merely a furlong above the cloud layer.

"Sorry for holding you at gunpoint, Bill." Sergei said.

The priest shrugged. "I'm sure many others would've done the same. You're forgiven."

"What about me?" Chris blurted. "Where's my sorry for holding me hostage in the factory?"

"I am...truly...sorry."

"Accepted."

Chris took in the sunlit expanse for a moment. A sudden impulse made him break free of his harness as well. He walked forth toward the open stern, to the boundary of the once-unattainable dream. He took a spot behind Justin and stared out over the puffy squall lines of the forever, sunlit kingdom. He realized that Justin had turned around and was looking right at him.

"…What?"

"This moment is yours, Chris." Justin glanced at Sergei, then back to the boy. "I tried to give you advice and show you the right way. I think sometimes I failed." Justin glanced out into the sky. "It's all because I lost the will to change. Then you came here, you kept reminding me of what it was I abandoned. And now I'm finally ready to leave this behind."

Chris was speechless as the light striking the back of Justin's shoulders haloed around his silhouette.

"Make no mistake, Chris, your life is about to change again. Make sure it's for the better." With an uncharacteristic air about him, Justin glanced over his shoulder again and overlooked the cloud layer reigning beneath his feet. No longer stone-faced, there he remained with a never-before-seen, all-knowing smile registered as if he'd suddenly figured out all the secrets of the universe. The VTOL thrusters fired downward and cavitated through the hull, and the vacuum draft of air swept in and out of the troop bay, drowning out any sound less audible than a gauss cannon on cyclic fire. Nevertheless, Chris listened intently to Justin, not missing a single word.

"You can spend your life doing good, or evil. It's your choice and no other's. We all make mistakes in this life, that's the way it is. But no matter what, hold onto what's right because we all get the chance to make amends. Don't ever turn your back on that chance, but never lose sight of all you stand for either. You've shown me a way to write over the past whether you know it or not, so thanks."

Chris felt a wholesome warmth he hadn't known before. "Justin, I'm sorry for all the bad things I said to you. I'll always have your back. I'll always be your friend."

"Alright, I guess we're ready to get moving." Ken shouted rearward. "Computer," he directed, "start slipspace jump calculations. I want to be en route as soon as we break atmosphere."

A synthesized, female voice returned, "Cannot comply."

"Um, what do you mean, cannot comply? State reason."

"Stored atmosphere on-board is currently insufficient for the number of lifeforms present."

"Bullshit." Ken winced. "I know there's enough. Execute another calculation and get me that jump solution. Highest priority."

"Calculation re-run. Stored atmosphere on-board is currently insufficient for the number of life—"

"Okay, god damnit, you and me are gonna go by the numbers. Identify number of lifeforms on-board."

"Seven lifeforms present."

Ken glanced into the cargo bay and counted everyone. Including himself, they numbered only six.

"No, that's wrong. Run internal computational diagnostic and report results." Ken glanced rearward again. "I can't believe this shit. This lady might be defucktive."

"Let's hope not." Justin replied. "Could take us a very long time to run a jump solution manually."

Ken nodded, then placed his attention back to the console while Justin and the others listened in.

"Report, damnit!" Ken shouted.

"Internal diagnostic results one-hundred percent. All systems fully operational." Reported the artificial intelligence.

"Now," Ken said, "run another assessment on the atmosphere stored in the tanks, then make the slipspace jump solution. And don't fuck it up this time."

"Cannot comply."

Ken sighed explosively. "Well, what is it this time?!"

"Stored atmosphere on-board is currently insufficient for—"

"Fuck!"

Ken slammed a fist into a bare portion of the console and collected himself an instant later.

"Why is the atmosphere insufficient, computer?"

"Stored atmosphere on-board is currently sufficient for only six lifeforms."

Ken glanced to the rear again, shrugging at Justin. "Lady keeps saying there's seven of us. I'm lost."

Justin glanced thoughtfully ahead toward the cockpit. "Computer," Justin said, "...identify all lifeforms present."

"Six humans and one unknown."

At that, the sight of tentacles emerging through a wiring harness overhead stole the breath right out of Chris. His eyes shot wide.

He began to point but couldn't speak.

Watch out! might've spurred Justin. Move! would've worked.

But the infection form moved much faster than Chris could roll off even a single word. A second earlier and he might've reacted and pushed Justin out of the way—someone could kill it.

But it was destiny.

It crashed to the deck and grabbed a firm hold of Justin's right leg, instantly clambering up his body. Chris reached for his pistol on the nearby seat as all the others snapped free and sprang from theirs.

As it was for other victims they'd known, their efforts were of no consequence.

The hum of the Pelican's propulsion system left everyone's cognizance as the infection form mounted Justin's upper back, instantly raising a slimy, rigid appendage high in the air, the razor-sharp tip aimed right at his spinal cord. Justin already knew there was no escape for himself once he witnessed the terror swelling in the boy's eyes. He could feel the many legs racing upwards over his clothes. But he held his gaze upon Chris, nonetheless.

"I would've loved to see you graduate Basic Training."

The parasitic organism slashed its tentacle down.

It pierced the skin and found the sacral nerve with ease. In an instant, Justin's eyes paled over, the sickly-green welling up from behind them. Hope and the light in Justin's eyes a moment ago were now gone, his spirit gone.

There was no more pain.

There was no more pleasure.

There was no more power of will.

No more Justin.

It made Chris cry as he raised his pistol. Time and space slowed for everyone as Chris squeezed the trigger.

Prior to the monster before them gaining full use of the body it stole, the shot rang out and it folded. The legs sagged under its own weight.

What was once Justin lost balance and nearly crumpled. It staggered backward to the edge where a swift draft whisked him out of the rear hold and into the sky, where he floated tranquilly for merely a few seconds before plummeting to a desolate, clay grave awaiting far below.

Every occupant in the Pelican's bay leaned over the edge and somberly tracked Justin's descent for a fleeting moment until he fully disappeared behind a squall of fog. There they all remained for a time, words or thoughts escaped.

The tears silently rolled down Chris' face, and the clouds froze in his vision like tundra over the clay. In the pilot seat looking back, Ken couldn't stand to see it continue. He closed the rear hatch and tracked its movement through a camera feed, watching the heart-sinking look in the boy's eyes gradually lose substance over a panorama of wrought Titanium. Chris didn't budge after the last rays of the sun were choked off by the airtight seal.

Chris stood still until Bill placed an arm around his shoulder and nudged him further into the bay. "Sit with me, Chris."

The boy sat down and bent forward, his tear-filled gaze now frozen to the deck plates. He sobbed into the folds of his jacket. "It's not fair…" he trailed off.

"I know, Chris."

"I don't understand why!" he yelped in between the sobs.

"Maybe God needs Justin." Bill whispered. "Justin saw us through, saw it done. He's in his hands now."

Chris was unconsolable. His body was still trembling in Bill's embrace, the tears still gushing, unable to fully cope with the pain and agony of Justin's passing.

"'I have always fought against fortune, and beaten her.'" Sergei said, retaking his seat. "'Even in exile I played a kingly man, but now I yield and throw up my hand.'" He strapped in and tipped his head in Bill's direction.

Bill looked back down at Chris and squeezed his shoulder, and that's when his own tears began to flow.

"Not fair, Bill."

"I know."

---

Chris looked to his left side and saw Bill leaning forward, empty-gazed and deep in thought. The boy caught a glint of light ricocheting off the golden crucifix dangling beneath the chain around his white-banded neck. "We have to go back for Justin. We have to properly lay him to rest."

"Are you kidding?" Sergei shouted from across the bay. He had to project his voice over the wall of batteries and over the drone of the Pelican's powerplants thrumming into the hull. "We're not going back there, that place crawls! Besides, he wouldn't want to be buried. He'd want to be burned, just like her. And Gibson would surely shoot us down now that we've left that LASER behind, so I think I'm gonna have to pull rank on this one and say...no way in Hell are we going back there!"

Chris said no more and sank back in his seat. With a sudden burst of anger, he sat upright and threw a solid fist into the batteries before him. Bill regarded him delicately.

"Everyone, shut up!" Ken's voice crackled over the loudspeakers. "Reaching escape velocity is serious business and I can't concentrate!"

Chris craned his neck outwards, his right temple nearly pressed flat against a section of battery as he looked on at the cockpit. Ken was frantically actuating controls, his hands shuffling over the consoles like some frantic symphonic composer. Past the pilot's bustling form, Chris realized the light that razored through the windows earlier was slowly dying out, deep blue creeping in, slowly fading to black. The longer he looked on, pinpricks of light slowly materialized. Again and again, they died out, and then came back again, wavering with the last, highest reaches of the planet's haze. And then all at once, a full field of starry night dominated the cockpit view.

Ken himself picked his head up and paused, perhaps marveling at the sight of it all, the wonder of space.

Everyone rose a few centimeters before their restraint harnesses caught them.

"Well," Ken came again, "We ain't dead yet so that must mean the seals are still good. We'll be jumping very soon. Let's hope Gibson's money went a long way when he modded this thing." Ken released the mic. "…'cause everyone knows you get what you pay for." he mumbled.

Chris tightened the four straps holding him in his seat. "What's it gonna be like?" he shouted at the cockpit.

"Should be just like any other uneventful jump, but it could be as much as a week to the nearest starport, so get as comfy as you all can! And Sergei, please don't fart."

With that, Chris felt a warmth emanating from not too far in front of him. Curious, he placed one of his bare palms over a section of battery and recoiled. The heat had built up quickly. Any other scenario and this environment would very well prove to be unacceptable over enough time. Even if jump-capable Pelicans proved to be of some use in the real world, surely this dubious sight of engineering on display was the shining example of how not to do it. Pelicans were never designed for long durations of space flight either, and the cramped conditions made it even more discomforting, the heap of batteries quite capable of inducing claustrophobia in even the steadiest of men. But at least the arrangement would keep them all warm during the long, cold journey.

The hum of the engines and the ancillary systems supporting them suddenly went silent, the Pelican now drifting. Chris expected some negative inertia. He expected he'd lurch towards his left and shoulder-butt Bill from precipitous loss of momentum, but there was nothing to slow them down; the only medium they traversed was just cold, empty vacuum. They were by all accounts free.

Chris sighed deep as he never had before.

And that's when Ken uttered, "Oh my God, what is this?"

All eyes and ears in the bay perked up, jockeying for a good view on the cockpit.

The view outside the canopy was something completely unexpected: not empty. Not just celestial bodies glimmering in the far beyond, but more of the all-too-familiar mayhem they had tried to put behind them.

"Well now, there's something no one's seen before." Sergei remarked dryly. "Humans killing humans, imagine that."

Spaceborne fighter vessels streaked through the void with tight, erratic maneuvers, all of them engaged in dogfights with countless others—either in pursuit or attempting to shake off their attackers. It wasn't until one such vessel exploded into a ball of gas and glittering metal shards that everyone started to feel fear again. There was a brief, elastic explosion that expanded and contracted once all the oxygen onboard the fighter craft was consumed. Ken remained perfectly still in the pilot's seat.

"Let's go!" Chris shouted. "What are you waiting for? Get us out of here!"

"No!" Ken corrected. "We stay quiet. It'll take too long for the computer to get the jump coordinates right, and if I keep the systems running we'll be found."

"Can't you just point the damn thing in the right direction?"

"Wanna end your jump inside a supernova? Alright then, shut up and let me do the work here! All subspace systems are powered off and they're gonna stay that way until all this is over with. It's the only reason we're not dead yet." Ken reached for a non-OEM control and instantly the heat in the rear bay dissipated entirely, swallowed whole by the all-pervading cold in the metal hull. "We're going dark." Ken announced. "No one activate any electronics you might have if you wanna live through this shooting gallery."

All survivors stared out the canopy, taking in all the many pockets of skirmishes taking place. Various craft were dispatched like clockwork either by forward-mounted guns or heat-seeking missiles, a few stray rounds whizzing closely by the Pelican. A myriad of silent explosions dotted the shadowy vista as kill after kill was scored. Poised in space beyond it all were a trio of heavy cruisers, watching it all like wiser scavengers.

Over time, the panorama was less and less active, the two sides of the battle increasingly distinguishable as victorious fighter craft acquired new targets alongside their wingmen, ganging up on the last remaining squadrons of their enemies—who were inevitably doomed by overwhelming numbers. Finally, after fifteen minutes of quiet observation on the edge of their seats, the survivors witnessed the last remaining craft making for escape vectors. The losing side was grossly outnumbered and they knew it, whether by electronic sensory or just gut instinct. They executed a maximum burn hoping to evade their numerous enemy's long-range weaponry. But expectedly, they were vanquished by their superior opponents in the moments that followed.

"One helluva party." Ken whispered absentmindedly. "Well, now's our time to jet."

Ken watched the triumphant fighter wing dwindle in size as they sped away at zero by one-eighty, vectoring into the periphery of the cockpit's view and completely disappearing thereafter. All on display now were three cruisers floating serenely, each one appearing no bigger than a river salmon amid the overwhelming jury of a billion stars in view. It was then that Ken wondered why the fighter craft did not proceed back to where they presumably originated from—the cruisers in the distance. The distance…

Ken cocked his head to the side and realized the cruisers were now noticeably closer to them than before.

He realized his presence was overstayed. He reached for the rocker switch responsible for warming up the systems and flipped it to ON.

Nothing.

Ken noticed the panel illumination was off, though he didn't remember deactivating it. He furrowed his brow when he found the switch was indeed already on just like he remembered it to be.

A short-circuit? It was entirely possible; this bird was old and probably hadn't received the life cycle sustainment it required. The serial tag on the console specified a final assembly date of 14FEB2525.

He hoped the internal contacts just had a bit of corrosion on them. But with so much seat time in Pelicans during his days as a flight officer, he had come to know these airframes inside and out. Any circuit that wasn't already upgraded to photonic chips during the UNSC's Equipment Standardization & Modernization Mandate of 2530 would incorporate Gold or Platinum-plated electrical contacts and PCBs that underwent polymer lamination, rendering them virtually corrosion-proof. He didn't rule out the possibility, though. He tried again and flicked the switch off, then on again.

Still nothing. "Okay, this isn't funny." he said in the silence.

"What is it?" Chris asked.

Ken frowned, "Nothing's responding." He then reached for a different set of controls, flipping random switches into any allowable position, rewarded with no output every time. "Okay, now you can start worrying."

"Those ships," Chris said, "they're getting closer."

Ken glanced up and then back down, pouring all concentration into his futile attempts. "I know."

"What's wrong with the ship?"

"They must've zapped us with a strong EMP. We're stone cold dead in the water, fellas."

"They're not gonna kill us, so don't worry." Sergei said. "They could've destroyed us long ago with ranged weapons. They want to interrogate us, that's all."

"Who the fuck are they?" Ken asked, his eyes now fixed on the approaching mammoths.

"They don't' look military." Sergei remarked thoughtfully from his seat. "Definitely civilian, maybe rebels or something, maybe Friedens. I wouldn't put it past them to use armed force against THI's defenses and start plundering. I just never thought the bastards had the resources to do it. Maybe I was wrong."

"You think it's rebel pirates? How could they amass a fighter wing that large? And three heavy cruisers?"

"I said was just guessing." Sergei shot back.

Chris loosened up his straps, leaned farther out for a better view. Three large ships on imminent approach were anything but good news. "God, I wish Justin was here."

"Wishful thinking ain't gonna get us outta this pickle." Sergei grunted, inspecting his pistol.

Chris nodded solemnly. "What are we supposed to do now? If we get boarded, surely our firepower will be no match against theirs."

"Don't you see, Chris?" Sergei snapped out of his restraint harness and floated past the others towards the cockpit partition, intently gazing out the windscreen. The lead cruiser now a mere two kilometers distant was spinning about its y-axis, revealing the lateral line. More and more of its bloated mid-section showed as it slowly but surely approached. The port side soon came into full view, and then it stopped rotating. It maintained that orientation as a wide swath of light materialized amidships, growing taller and brighter, a massive air lock opening. "We're not getting boarded. We're being swallowed up."