Chapter 25: Salvage(Pt 2)

About fifteen minutes later Krystal and I were finished with getting the hovercarts parked inside the shuttle's airlock. She had hit the mother lode; plastic boxes filled with packaged meals, jugs of now-frozen water, and other foodstuffs that seemed like they would be good and compatible with our slightly different biologies. We were both slightly winded from hauling them up stairs, but at the very least the carts themselves were auto-leveling and we didn't suffer any spillage.

"The salvage is secured," Krystal called out over the open channel. "We're ready to explore the cargo bays when you are, Fay."

"I'm almost finished," the spaniel replied. "Meet me at the upper bay entrance on Deck Two in five minutes. I show your suits still in the green, so we have plenty of time to search."

"Copy," I replied. "Any reason why we're hitting the upper bay first?"

"The entrance on Deck Two is the only way to reach the secure cargo area," Fay replied. "We need to find out what your compatriot was up to. The recordings from our helmet cams will be invaluable."

Krystal reached out to take my hand as we started making our way through the battle-torn halls of the stricken Ipranian ship; giving it a reassuring squeeze as I asked another question. "These are recording video right now?"

"Yep," Fay replied. "It's a standard feature when we're linked together; I can't view your feeds directly but we can review them once we're back on board to make sure we didn't miss anything vital."

"Did you find anything up there?" Krystal asked.

"A couple of datacards and an Iprani datapad," the Cornerian responded. "I think one of the cards has the captain's private log. Between that and the computer Adam located we may have found some good info. They're likely encrypted, but the CDF can probably break it."

"As long as we can send it off to your people," Krystal added. "We still need to find a functional communications device."

"That's true," Fay admitted. "We aren't out of danger yet."

Krystal stopped just ahead of me and pointed up; our lamps illuminated a sign that read 'NAVIS I'. The door and the surrounding walls were positively wrecked. The blackened marks of blaster hits and pockmarks left from bullets littered the area; several ominous puddles of frozen blood marked the places where casualties had fallen. "We're here," I stated. "I have to say this place gives me the creeps."

"I feel the same," Krystal agreed, giving my hand another squeeze. "After we're finished with the cargo bays we can leave, right?"

"Absolutely," Fay affirmed. "I'm starting to feel a bit too exposed on this wreck. I'm heading down to meet you now. Just a moment."

Despite the flightsuit's integrated heater the cold was starting to seep in; I didn't want to nervously pace in front of Krystal so I stayed put and dialed the temperature up a bit further. Thankfully it didn't take long for Fay to join us.

"Sorry for the wait," she responded. "I stored my cart in our shuttle's airlock alongside yours. Are you ready to search the cargo bays?"

"We are," Krystal answered quickly. "Forgive me if I seem unsettled. I'm a little apprehensive as to what we're going to find in there."

"I don't blame you," Fay answered. "I feel the same way. I just hope we find some answers to make whatever mess we're about to witness worth it." With that she reached out to the door's controls; the massive metal portal groaning and grinding open as if it was reluctant to reveal its secrets.

"Jesus Christ," I spat as I looked away from the wide hallway, shutting my eyes. The split second image I witnessed had been enough. It was, simply put, a massacre.

Krys and Fay couldn't bite back their own curses. "By the three hells!" Fay's voice didn't conceal the bitter, sickened tone that tinted her words.

"Goddess' grief!" Krystal's pained voice choked out. "What happened here?"

I forced my eyes open to glance at the aftermath I struggled to bear witness to. The hallway was a good fifteen feet wide and obviously a thoroughfare for large cargo. It extended past the reach of our lights and hosted a few stacks of makeshift crates. There had been a battle here; one which had quickly turned into a last stand. Multiple bodies in gray flightsuits met their final end here; mostly human but a handful were enslaved Lylatians. Four shattered robots rested on tracked wheels; gun barrels standing in mute defiance to whatever high explosive end had befallen them. They hadn't gone down easy; many of the crates had been blown apart by explosive ordnance and the deck plates were buckled in areas as a result. Scorch marks and evidence of weapons fire had been apparent all over; by the blotched, frozen stains on the deck the Remnant had literally paid for their victory in blood. "These poor bastards went down hard," I surmised. "I figure they didn't have anything left to lose."

"It was likely the best chokepoint available to them," Fay responded, taking care not to step on anything as she advanced. "The Remnant paid bitterly for what they came to take. Hold on, what's this?" She bent over to pick something up.

"What did you find?" Krystal asked, though she didn't move from my side.

"Firearm casings," the spaniel answered. "Can you identify them, Adam?" She passed the handful of casings over to me, which I somehow caught.

Again, the presence of something so mundane on a dead alien ship threw me for a loop, even though I knew what was coming. The brass casings were almost ubiquitous on Earth, lending credence to the origins of the laptop, binder, and cash-filled suitcase I had found earlier. "Yeah," I affirmed. "They're 5.56mm NATO; same round that the AR15 you're carrying fires."

Empty magazines also littered the deck around the defenders; they were a mixture of Iprani helical magazines as well as more familiar STANAG-pattern M16 magazines; I made sure I added some of them to the duffel bag. "This makes no goddamn sense."

"What is it?" Krystal asked from behind me. "They were using weapons like yours?"

"I think I found one," Fay responded from ahead of us; she reached behind a crate to retrieve one of the aforementioned rifles. I blinked; my eyes widening in disbelief as I spied the weapon. We had found the literal smoking gun.

I walked up to Fay, who passed it over. I examined it silently; pulling back the charging handle to reveal it was loaded. "At the drop of a hat these guys will rock and roll," I quoted. "This is a Colt 733; a short-barreled variant meant for close quarters fighting. It even has the fun switch." The short-barreled rifle had its classic carry handle iron sights and nothing else attached, but it looked almost new except for some slight scratches. A quick search revealed a few loaded magazines that had spilled onto the floor, presumably from off the top of a nearby crate. I added them to the tactical vest; I wasn't about to leave it behind.

"Fun switch?" Fay asked as she poked around the carnage. "This doesn't explain how the Iprani fought back with weapons from your homeworld."

"The passenger from his world may have been selling weapons to the Iprani," Krystal speculated, motioning to the empty magazines and casings that littered the floor. "They could have armed them."

"That's possible," I mused, deciding to replace the partially spent magazine with one of the full ones I had found. My load was getting significantly heavier considering what I had inside the duffel bag; I was starting to get an idea of what the bank robbers in Heat went through. "Fun switch means this one will run full-auto," I explained. "We might get lucky and find more hardware; I figure this is the high-security cargo the logs mentioned."

"That would be a game changer," Fay admitted as she scooped up a few more empty magazines. "I was hoping to find some Iprani slugthrowers; are these good quality weapons?"

I thought about that as I made my way forward; I had pulled up the map on my screen and found the secure cargo room wasn't too far ahead. "This is military grade hardware," I answered, trying to keep the explanation simple; the pressurized helmet made speech tiring.

The map didn't lead me wrong; my helmet's lamps illuminated a closed, stout looking door with a sign reading 'SECVTARIS NAVIS'; the once-gray paint on the door was scorched and blackened as if someone tried to melt it with a flamethrower. The control panel was illuminated in a bright red glow, which I assumed meant it was locked. "Looks like this door isn't controlled by the security station," Fay chimed in. "I should be able to breach it, though." She punched some commands into her wrist-mounted computer.

Several moments passed in silence; Krystal reached out to place her hand on my shoulder. I placed mine upon hers; welcoming the contact. A feeling had welled up in my heart; something that had been buried for years but had been struggling to rise to the surface over the past few days. Words rose to my thoughts but died before they reached my tongue. Why? Part of me was afraid to speak them. Part of me wasn't, but argued that they should be for her ears alone. Still, the answer resonated in my mind: not yet.

The sudden, unexpected chime from the door startled us both; Krystal jumping as much as I did. Fay's remark echoed over the channel. "Got it!" The grinding, groaning sound that came from the mechanism didn't sound healthy; our headlamps illuminated the now slowly opening door. Krys and I were already on edge; she reached for her Remington and I reached for my Benelli, taking it off safety. I wasn't going to rely on an unproven rifle unless I had to.

Fay also stepped back, following our lead and breaking out her borrowed AR15 as we approached the darkened chamber. The area was about the size of a house; broken up into separate compartments by material that looked similar to chain-link fencing. There was a loft area above the compartments; I frowned as I aimed the shotgun upwards. "I'll clear upstairs," I stated in a tone of voice that I hoped would brook no argument.

"Got it," Fay responded. "Krys, follow me." I slowly ascended the steps, trying to keep my footsteps quiet on the metal grating. I saw no movement, but I kept my shotgun trained on whatever was in front of me. The 'loft's' floor was more of the same metal grating, compartmentalized into two sections by what looked like thin metal walls instead of the chain link sections below. It looked almost like a break area that would be shared by guards rather than a space for cargo.

The first compartment looked like a kitchenette and small office; a desk with a rather advanced-looking computer sat next to a small booth and a food prep area that wasn't too dissimilar to something one would find in a studio apartment. It was empty except for a small stack of paperback books on the desk; a closer look revealed them to be US Army manuals relating to small arms and printed in English. Frowning, I collected them and moved forward.

The second compartment looked like a lounge area; complete with the Iprani equivalent of a TV on the far wall, a metal coffee table, and a couch. However, a couple of unexpectedly mundane objects sat on the table; someone's cell phone, keys, and wallet had been left there. Another post-it note had been stuck to the phone; the note penned in English with clear and precise handwriting. 'PASSCODE 083462 DROP 4073195550 x4334 OPCODE ROCKING HORSE VT COMPROMISED WILL EVAC CHECK TRUCK IN BAY 2'. I blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the cryptic note. The phone was of terrestrial make; the LG logo on its back was a dead giveaway. The battery was dead and it was likely locked; I stuffed it into the duffel bag. The keys consisted of a few that looked like they'd fit high security padlocks, along with a smart key that wore a Chevrolet emblem.

I reached down and picked up the wallet; a common black leather bifold. Flipping it open revealed what one would normally find: a driver's license, credit cards, business cards and cash. The driver's license had been issued in Florida and belonged to a man named Vincent Torricelli; a photo of a man in his mid-40s with hard Italian features and jet black hair stared back at me. The business cards were also in his name; he was an 'Import-Export Special Account Manager' at the same ReadyTransit business listed on the binder. Finally, there was cash in the wallet; I didn't count it but it looked like close to a grand in hundreds and fifties. Frowning, I slipped the items inside an empty magazine pouch; I didn't like where this was going. Not one bit.

"Dearheart?" Krystal's voice derailed my train of thought. "You should come down here; I think you need to see this. We found more weapons." I looked down through the grating in the floor to see her waving at me. I nodded at her and made my way down; adding the training manuals to an already heavy pack.

Krystal and Fay were gathered around several dark green metal crates; many of them had been opened. They had been once filled with weapons and ammunition, though most of it had been ransacked. "This crate looks like it stored multiple rifles," Fay stated, pointing to one that obviously been used to carry a few dozen longarms. It had been mostly cleaned out except for a pair of M4A1 carbines, an M16A3, and surprisingly enough what looked like a solitary M21 sniper rifle.

"Dude was running guns to the Iprani," I remarked as I put the Benelli back on safe and slung it over my shoulder. "He left his wallet, keys, and phone upstairs, along with some cryptic note about something being compromised. There's no body down here?" I glanced around but didn't see anyone else."

"No, che," Krystal confirmed, her hand falling on my shoulder. "We checked."

"There's a lot that isn't adding up here," I sighed in a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. "I have a sneaking suspicion this is all military hardware."

"Do you believe this person is stealing weapons from your military to sell to the Iprani?" Fay asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

I nodded at her. "Probably," I answered. "We should see what else this dude brought."

We went through the other crates; apparently the gunrunner had brought over a fairly comprehensive amount of US and former Soviet military issue small arms. Practically all of it was gone but there was a manifest that listed, in English, an impressive collection of hardware. Unfortunately for us, most of it was most likely in the hands of the Venom Remnant.

Another crate included spare parts, magazines, accessories and a comprehensive armorer's kit; yet another contained ammunition which amazingly hadn't been ransacked. "Someone just about cleaned out the cookie jar," I mused, "but at least we can feed what we've got. We should find another of those hovercarts; I don't want to lug all this around."

"There's a few over there by the door," Krystal pointed out, walking to a charging station I hadn't noticed when we entered. Fay and I hefted the excruciatingly heavy crate onto the cart; Krys held it steady for us. The parts and accessories were next; it was lighter but not by much. I opted to toss my heavy duffel bag on top and stuff the rifles inside; I didn't feel like toting it all over the ship. We were winded by the effort; I planted myself on a nearby crate as the Cornerian leaned up against the wall.

"What's the… timer on your O2 demand?" Fay panted, pointing to me. "I want to make sure your… runtime is good."

I glanced at the timer. "Another… thirty-five minutes," I replied. "Total remaining time is still… more than sixteen hours." I closed my eyes for a moment and took a pull on the drinking tube; instantly rewarded with cold, flat-tasting water. I felt someone sit on the crate next to me and lean against my side. I could tell it was Krys; her helmet-clad head leaning on my shoulder.

"You're still in the green…" Fay reported as she glanced up. "It's been a while since I've been in near-vac… it takes a lot out of you…" I could tell that she was also feeling the effects of our extended search.

"At least we're almost done," Krystal spoke up. "I didn't think this would be so exhausting." I agreed with her. I wasn't sure if it was physical or mental exhaustion; the experience was fraught with danger and getting used to the pressure suit wasn't helping things. Combine that with the death, destruction, and the fact this mess could very well land on Earth's doorstep; to say I wasn't having a great time was an understatement. The vixen's glove-covered hand found mine and squeezed gently; her presence and affection was a major comfort.

I squeezed back; fully aware that the fate of her fellow Cerinians was on her mind. I wished I could comfort her somehow, but something about our suits seemed to block most of our mental communication. I knew she had similar issues with the respirator she wore on Darkice Mines but this was worse; perhaps these helmets had some sort of radiation shielding that tampered with her abilities? "I vote for a short break…" I spoke out loud. "But, the sooner we can get… out of here, the better."

"You mentioned you found a cryptic note… up there," Fay chimed in as she caught her breath. "What did it say?"

"Some numbers and what looked… like a code," I answered, reaching into the duffel bag to retrieve the wallet and phone I had found. "It mentioned about a truck in Bay Two. He… left a set of car keys. There may be a vehicle down there?"

"Those look like the ones you used with your vehicle," Krystal responded. "It seems like an awfully important item to leave in there, unless they were left for someone to find?"

She had a very good point; I wasn't sure why someone would leave their phone, car keys, wallet, and a large quantity of cash somewhere unless they had a pressing reason to do so. I tried to put myself into this Vincent guy's shoes; if I were on a ship under major attack and trying to flee what would cause me to leave all my belongings behind? It didn't make much sense; the Remnant soldier shot outside his cabin led me to believe that he started out there. Was he unaware of the attack until the Remnant boarded? His laptop probably had sensitive information on it, let alone abandoning a ton of cash on a whim.

However, to leave behind objects most people considered lifelines was strange behavior, especially when they included a note with them. Did he expect someone to come after him; some sort of support team? The most likely scenario was that this guy was either killed or captured by the Remnant. I didn't recall seeing his body among the dead, at least so far. A thought struck me; I opened his wallet and extracted his license. "Did either of you see his body?"

Krys leaned in to look at it and shook her head. "I don't think so, dearheart. I didn't see anyone on the lower deck." Frowning, I passed the ID card to Fay.

She glanced at the card for a few moments. "Let me scan the video logs on my helmet," she replied, falling silent for a couple of minutes. She shook her head. "He's not on the bridge, command deck, or anywhere else I've been."

I mulled over this for a few moments. "He had to have shot that Remnant soldier I saw on the middle deck," I mused, "and I didn't see anyone who looked like him or any nine-millimeter casings around any human bodies. I guess we can review the footage when we get back if we don't find anyone else."

"Would this ship have escape pods?" Krystal asked. "Could they have escaped that way?"

Fay nodded at us. "Let me recheck the video," she replied, after which there was another pause. "The security console reported that six escape pods were fired, but there are no active distress beacons. With the debris cloud around Sauria it will be almost impossible for sensors to pick them up if they're not broadcasting. It's also an Iprani vessel so they could be scrambling transmissions to avoid being detected by the CDF or Remnant."

"Good points," I chimed in. "I think I'm good enough to move on. Let's leave our stuff here and get the rest of this place out of the way." I stood, helping my Cerinian companion to her feet. I didn't voice this opinion, but I wasn't comfortable staying on this ship of death any longer than I had to.


Once we made our way just past the room where we found the ransacked weapons cache the cargo bay opened up to a massive cavern. Our footsteps made muted echoes in the thin air; our helmet-mounted lights unable to penetrate the complete darkness. I tried switching the helmet to its nightvision mode; a light blue tint settling over the lenses that didn't do much more to combat the void around us. It was an unsettling feeling; I ran a quick calculation in my head. If the crew section was about three hundred feet long the cargo bays were… damn near a quarter mile. This ship was absolutely massive.

As far as I could see, the place was empty; I was concerned about missing something in the darkness. "What are we looking for?" I asked, scanning everywhere I could see. "It's going to be really hard to tell if something was here, unless they had a firefight in the cargo hold."

"Stasis pods have particular storage requirements," Fay explained. "They need large amounts of power to keep their occupants stable. Prison transport power requirements are pretty high; the ships have built-in redundant reactors to keep the pods active in case the main reactor fails. This ship doesn't have redundant reactors, so I assume the Iprani set up an independent reactor to power the pods. I doubt the Remnant would have taken it; they would have just shut it down."

"Why use stasis pods for prisoners and slaves, then?" I inquired. "Wouldn't it be less complex to transport them in cells?"

"It's far more secure," Fay pointed out. "Prisoners in stasis require no resources other than power and monitoring. A security breach involving conscious prisoners can easily lead to a takeover of the vessel, so transport while in stasis is standard procedure. It's safer and less stressful on both guards and captives."

"Cerinians would be difficult and dangerous to control, especially highborn captives," Krystal added with a slight tremble in her voice. "It's why we use control collars on prisoners, but they have their own drawbacks and dangers." I shuddered at the memory of my encounter with one; that and after seeing what it did to Krystal and that other Cerinian I would keep as far away from them as possible.

"How did you get out of that damned thing?" Fay asked.

"I… I don't know," Krystal admitted. "I don't clearly remember much of my time in the shuttle. If I had to make a guess I think Meran's mental conditioning conflicted with the collar's effects. It… changed me. If it wasn't for the Cloudrunners…" She trailed off; her hand reached out for mine once again. I gave it a reassuring squeeze, but it didn't feel like enough. A feeling came over me; a sudden impulse to just hold onto her and not let go.

My thoughts were shaken by an object emerging out of the inky darkness; within the massive, empty confines of the ship it didn't look like much but it was easily the size of a small house. The slate gray structure was festooned with hatches; I recognized them from the shuttle's engine room when I helped Krys load the fuel rods. Black cables the thickness of my forearm littered the floor; they terminated at large panels connected to the device. "I think we just found the reactor," Fay mentioned as we made our way towards it.

It was relatively slow going as we tried not to trip over cables. I kept a hold of Krys as we inched our way forward; frowning as I felt her trembling slightly. It didn't take a leap of logic to figure out this had been the power station for the stasis pods. I kept an eye out for anything unusual; it was then I spotted a blinking orange light next to one of the loading doors. "Hey," I spoke up, pointing towards it. "What's that?"

We made a beeline towards it; Fay reaching the area first. Krystal lost her balance on one of the cables; I was able to help her keep her balance, but I stumbled over a few others. "It's an indicator for one of the internal capacitors," Fay called out. "It's still active; it shows it's discharging!"

"Wait," I interjected. "I thought this was inactive. Why would it still be discharging?"

"These standalone reactors are built with redundant power storage," Fay stated. "Especially for stasis pods. This means something's still connected to it and drawing power."

It didn't take long to find the source; a phone booth-sized box located on the other side of the reactor. It was upended; the fact I saw large shards of what looked like glass littering the floor didn't bode well. Krystal stiffened as we approached, taking extreme care with the cables that coiled around the deck like a bed of snakes.

I wasn't sure how to describe what surrounded the stasis pod; it looked like a bunch of half melted blue-green Jello. Fay's voice carried over the channel in response, tight with apprehension. "That's stasis fluid," she confirmed. "The pod's compromised."

The three of us approached the broken pod to survey the damage. The front had been smashed in with significant force; almost like it had been hit by a truck. The observation window in front had been dashed out; its occupant dangling limply in the frozen, airless cargo bay. He was Cerinian; his cerulean and alabaster fur stained and matted by the clinging fluid. A thick leather collar had been fastened around his throat; the same kind I had encountered under the shuttle's couch. A clear plastic mask was cinched around his muzzle; tubes stuck uncomfortably down his nostrils and throat. Status lights flickered on the side of the pod; the crimson glow was a clear indication that we were far too late.

A hitching, drawn-out sob echoed in my ears; I turned around just in time to see Krystal fall to her knees. "No," she gasped. "No… gods, please no…" I was at her side in an instant; wrapping my arms around her despite the bulk of her enviropack. I barely noticed Fay's hand fall on her shoulder.

I remained silent; so did Fay. The only sound was Krystal's sobbing as she collapsed against me. I knew there wasn't anything I could say; no magic words to make things better. Her people had been sold out, enslaved and abused; some of them had paid with their lives. All of this to satisfy some greedy bastards, and it turned out there were likely some shitheads on my planet who were somehow involved. Could some of these Cerinians have been bound to make the trip to Earth? Business leaders, governments, and the rich and powerful would likely sell their souls to have access to someone who could do what Krystal could.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed; I simply held onto her as best I could as she leaned into me, her sobs eventually quieting. Shakily she reached out to me, her hands grasping mine as she tried to stand. I managed to pull her up. "I'm so sorry, hon," I consoled, even though it felt like such a hollow comfort. "We're going to find them; I swear I'll help you."

"You can count on the CDF," Fay's voice was laced with barely concealed anger. "We will help your people, Krystal."

The vixen's breath was shaky as she clung to me; her voice trembling with distress. "I… I appreciate both of you," she managed. "Knowing that this is what happened to my friends and family; knowing that I nearly shared this fate is weighing on my heart."

"I know," I replied, a curious mixture of concern, anger, and affection creating a maelstrom in my thoughts. "I think we need to get out of this damned place."

"While I share that sentiment," Fay spoke up, "we still need to check out the lower cargo bay. Didn't the note you found mention something stored there?"

I inwardly cursed; she was right. I didn't expect to find anything, but we had to check. "Alright," I conceded, "we should do a sweep. Are you going to be okay for a bit longer?" I hated to put Krys through this; my connection to her was faint at best but I could tell she was in anguish.

"I… I think so, che," Krystal's voice was choked. "Let's just make it quick? I don't feel so well."

"The nearest stairwell to the lower bay is about fifty meters ahead," Fay mentioned, turning to point her headlamp farther in the darkness. I could barely see it; a yellow railing near one of the outer walls.

"C'mon, I've got you," I told Krys as I guided her forward, avoiding the mass of tangled cables that still littered the floor. Her steps were shaky and I could tell she was trembling, but we made it to the stairwell without incident.


What I wasn't prepared for was the sheer scale of the lower cargo bay. The stairway felt like a descent into the depths; our lights swallowed up by the pervasive darkness that hung around us like a malevolent presence. The stairwell was fairly wide, allowing me to guide my Cerinian companion down its multitude of flights; at the same time it felt endless. Her shakiness had mostly subsided; something I was thankful for.

"According to the schematics," Fay stated, "the lower cargo bay is a height of seventy meters and extends nearly the entire length of the ship."

"Christ," I spat. "That sounds massive for a ship like this. What the hell are these used for?" I had been interested in nautical history from a young age, ever since catching a special on the discovery of the Titanic. That was somewhat ironic considering the cargo bay would have been able to fit that ill-fated liner without much issue. With as far down as we had been going, I could believe it.

"Freighters of this size are usually used to run bulk supplies to Freeports and outposts," Fay answered. "The bays are also designed to carry prefab buildings to start or expand outposts and colonies."

"There's no damn way a ship this big could have come down to Earth unnoticed," I remarked. "We're not oblivious to what's going on over our heads."

"They likely have cargo transfer shuttles aboard," the Cornerian replied. "Those would be much more subtle than trying to land a half-kilometer long freighter on a planet's surface. Krystal, how are you holding up?"

"I'm here," the vixen replied, her voice sounding listless. "I just need a little time to gather my thoughts." I felt her squeeze my hand in response; I was relieved to feel that.

I frowned. Something was eating at her, but I wasn't sure what. "I understand, hon," I managed, unable to keep my concern out of my voice. "I'm here for you."

We finally reached the bottom of the staircase; thankfully we had managed a pace that didn't wear us out. Wearing the pressure suit and helmet was starting to take its toll; I didn't want to do this again. I had been ignoring random itches I couldn't scratch and dull aches from the bullet fragments that were still stuck in my arm and leg, but they were starting to irritate to the point of distraction.

The cargo bay was sparsely populated; there were large crates and containers scattered about here and there, but quick checks revealed they were empty. I really didn't want to stay in this damned ship much longer, but I had to keep it together. Krys needed me.

Fay spotted it first, tapping me on the shoulder to get my attention. "I haven't seen a shipping container like this before," she blurted out, her voice full of confusion. "Take a look!"

I turned around and blinked. She hadn't seen one before. I had. "Christ on a crutch," I cursed. "I can tell you it's from my neck of the woods." The white container was emblazoned with a familiar logo; a white star on a light blue background. I had seen these countless times before on semi trucks and freight trains. 'MAERSK SEALAND' was printed on its side in giant, bold letters.

Even Krystal's curiosity was piqued. "This is from your planet?"

I nodded as we made our way to the container. "Yeah," I answered. "I think they're called intermodals; large metal shipping containers meant to fit on ships, trains, and trucks. That might be how they got the weapons aboard."

Reaching the back of the container, I found it secured with a large padlock. I retrieved the set of keys I found with the cryptic note and tried a few; miraculously coming up with one that unlocked it. I motioned Fay and Krys away from the door as I threw the latch open and peered inside.

The container was nearly empty except for a black Suburban parked towards the back, its tailgate facing us. I'd heard of people smuggling cars like this; sticking a Skyline or other highly valued import at the back of a container, filling the rest with other cargo and sending it off. I wouldn't be surprised if that had been the case here, except the note I found said to 'CHECK TRUCK IN BAY 2'.

"Another wheeled vehicle," Fay remarked as we stepped into the container. "No offense meant, but it looks a bit more rugged than the one you own."

"It's a full-sized SUV," I responded as I gave the vehicle a closer look. "They're built for light to moderate off-road use, though most owners don't use them any differently than my Lexus." The Suburban was a newer model; a couple of years old at most. The Florida plates were current; its windows heavily tinted. "Mind the tires," I pointed to the wheels, which looked like they were still holding air. "They're likely still inflated. I don't know what they'll do in a near-vacuum."

"Be careful, che," Krystal pleaded as her hand grasped my shoulder, her voice full of concern. "I don't want you to get hurt."

I placed my hand on hers, looking back at her. It unnerved me that I couldn't see her face, but at the very least all I needed to do was search this Chevy and we could get out of this damned wreck. "I promise I'll be cautious, lo… hon." I almost slipped up, causing my cheeks to burn bright red.

Pushing that thought aside I let go of her in order to approach the Suburban. The interior lights powered on as I approached; something I expected as I had the smart key in my possession. I looked down at the key; one button operated the tailgate. I pressed and held it; the rear tailgate sliding open. The mechanism was sluggish, likely due to the intense cold and low battery charge, but it worked.

The SUV's cargo area was filled with two large Pelican hardcases; very serious and expensive protection for critical equipment. I reached for one and tried to pull it out; it didn't budge. It was then I noticed hinged metal plates that seemed to hold them to the floor of the vehicle; secured with a very serious padlock. I tried the keys; one fit and released the case. Curious, I threw it open and glanced at its contents.

"Holy shit," I hissed. The case contained a complete Special Forces loadout; complete with body armor, magazines, extra ammunition, combat rations, tactical gear, and a short-barreled MK18 rifle. I wasn't an expert about combat gear, but its quality and organization was subtly professional. Whoever this guy was, he didn't fuck around.

The other case had a very similar kit; however this one also contained a Glock 17 handgun in addition to the MK18. I would have expected these things to be among the cargo we sifted through; not locked in a vehicle stuffed into a shipping container. "Guy had to have been hiding this," I remarked.

"What is it?" Fay asked as she approached the vehicle.

"More weapons and gear," I replied. "However this stuff was somewhat hidden; we wouldn't have found it had I not read that note and you insisted we check it out. If this guy was just running guns to the Iprani why stash all of this?"

"Likely as an insurance policy," Fay answered as I rolled the now-freed cases out of the back of the SUV. "There weren't that many uniformed security guards on this transport. If things went sour and you could get to these weapons, you'd have options. With skill and luck you could hijack one of the cargo haulers or fight your way to the bridge."

"But one guy against an entire ship?" I asked. "I wouldn't like those odds."

"You risked your life in battle with those pirates," Krystal interjected, her voice shaky as if she was trying to hold back tears. "You saved our lives doing just that."

She had a point, but… "I guess if you had a lot of training and a lot of luck," I conceded. "But, there's the glaring problem of not being able to fly one of these ships. Piloting a spacecraft isn't exactly a common skill on Earth."

"It's not difficult to pick up," Fay countered. "I could teach you how to undock and make an orbital insertion without much trouble. You wouldn't be ready for the Basic License Exam, but it'd be enough for you to make planetfall in one piece. Interested?"

I blinked. I spent my youth playing flight sims and fooled around with Kerbal Space Program so I had to admit Fay's offer was tempting. "Sure," I agreed as I pulled the cases out of the back of the Suburban; they were heavy but they had integrated wheels and carrying handles. "Why don't we discuss this when we get back to the shuttle? I think we're done here."

"I really don't want to be here any longer," Krystal chimed in; the anxiety in her voice was palpable. "I'm not feeling very well, and I want nothing more than to leave this Void-damned tomb." Her hand reached out for mine; I gladly took it.

I grasped the handle to one of the Pelican cases, tugging it along to make sure it wouldn't be too much of a burden. "Fay," I asked, "mind taking that other case for me?"


We were finally back in the shuttle's airlock; filled with the hovercarts full of the things we had gathered. Krystal leaned against me as Fay keyed in the sequence to detatch us from the dead Iprani ship. The subtle hum of pumps kicked in, growing louder as the pressure readout on the HUD shot back up to normal levels. We were almost done.

"We're back to normal atmo," Fay reported. "Opening internal doors; we can now remove our helmets." I wasted absolutely no time in doing so, flipping the latches open and peeling mine away from my face. Krys and Fay did the same; gasps of relief matching mine as we were freed from their confines. It took me a moment to get readjusted to breathing normally, but the adjustment was mercifully quick.

I glanced over to Krys; her eyes were reddened and by the dampness of the fur around her muzzle I could tell she had been crying. I immediately wrapped my arms around her as much as I could; the vixen burying her face against my chest. "I've got you, hon," I whispered. I held her for a few moments, catching a nod from Fay as she took hold of the cart containing the weapons and gear we had found.

I somehow managed to both hold onto Krystal and guided one of the carts filled with food into the shuttle. After parking it next to the supply crates I helped Krys out of her bulky gear and removed my own; setting them down next to the collection sitting next to the airlock door.

"I really don't feel well, my che," Krystal whimpered, her arms once again winding around me. I glanced down to see a grimace on her vulpine features, her tearful eyes shut tight. Something ticked in the back of my head; a muted sensation of overwhelming nausea and distress that I suddenly realized was hers.

I glanced up to Fay. "I'm going to help her get upstairs," I responded. "Are you okay with that?"

The spaniel nodded at me; concern apparent in her expression. "I've got it from here," she assured. "Just take care of her, okay?"

I responded with a nod as I guided my Cerinian partner up the stairs; another sensation of distress and nausea hit her so hard I could feel it. To say I was concerned was an understatement; she had been through a lot and I was determined to be there for her. Come Hell or high water, I'd get her through this.


Notes: This took a fair bit longer to get out than I'd like; requiring a couple of rewrites to line a few things up for the next couple of chapters(which have themselves gone through major rewrites). Those are still in process and I will hunt and peck at those when I have the time to do so. At this time I cannot and will not hold myself to a specific writing schedule; I work full-time(or more), I help out older family members, and I have other hobbies that I don't wish to neglect.

With that said, the timeline for those significant events that I have mentioned in the notes for last chapter have been accelerated. I'm going to find myself with precious little time to write or indulge in other hobbies until this process ends. I probably won't be posting anything else until this is done. I need to stress that this series of events is by and large a very positive one; I'm not going through any sort of personal or professional drama and my life is going okay.

I'm also going to address a suggestion a couple of folks have brought up to me. To be clear, I have zero interest in crowdfunding or otherwise monetizing my work. While I know that some 'fic authors and even fangame developers do this, I write strictly as a hobby. I also have other hobbies(such as classic cars, shooting, computers, retrocomputing, etc) which compete with writing; I'm definitely not a one trick pony. I don't need(nor am I comfortable with) making a subscription service for my writing. This is, at its very essence, a self-serving hobby. Asking or having people pay for what I do, especially with my sporadic updates, seems very disingenuous. I don't intend this to disparage other writers who do this; some do incredible work and put it out at a volume that I couldn't hope to match. Some people genuinely want to make a career out of their writing, and that's totally awesome and okay. For me, I don't really need financial support. I have a career, am financially stable, and in some ways I am well off. I understand that there is this modern zeitgeist of 'hustle culture' where everything you do should net you profit, even things that you do for pure amusement or enjoyment. I've never really subscribed to that notion. Again, I won't discourage others from doing so and won't disparage those who do; I just don't want to treat everything as a job or a way to make money. I appreciate the suggestion; however I'm doing pretty well and don't want to take money from others for what I do. :)