Soren checked the seals on his borrowed combat gear for the third time, not because it was faulty, but because it was the only thing keeping his hands busy. The central room of The Ghost of Mandachor was cramped, but familiar. It faintly whined and creaked where the newly installed reinforcements adjusted to their first flight through space.

  Across from him, Riza was hunched over her weapon fine tuning something. She had opted to bring a similar rifle as her allies for this operation, but her preferred cannon was still stowed on her back. It looked more or less like it had before they traveled to Altina together, despite what had occurred there.

  Amalia, Veolo, and Violet were all crammed up in the cockpit with Tamiyo and Elias so they could look out the front viewport. The three of them had technically been in space a couple times already, but not in a spacecraft as small as this one.

  Inelius sat to his right, expression unreadable behind his armored helmet.

  Only Aurania looked at home, standing steady near the starboard hatch. She braced against the wall, helmet tucked beneath her arm like a battle standard. She was also carrying a rifle and had her massive great-axe strapped to her back. She hadn’t said a word to him since the briefing. Things were still so tense between them, even after training together as a unit.

  Soren had found himself struggling with certain thoughts about her that kept creeping into his head, but forced them down anytime they arose.

  A small red light blinked on above the hatch and Tamiyo’s voice came over the ship comms. “Five minutes out.”

  Soren took a breath and looked around again. Amalia was saying something to Veolo as they walked back from the cockpit. Her hands moved in small, energetic gestures, like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be terrified. Veolo smiled warmly and nodded back to her, then pulled her helmet on and locked it in place.

  “We’ve got a visual,” Tamiyo said over the comms. “Sending it back to you.”

  A large screen installed on the wall lit up, displaying a jagged industrial lattice half-swallowed by the shadow of the asteroid it clung to. A shattered pirate frigate drifted just off the docking ring, hull blackened and venting gas from a midship rupture. Nearby, the carcass of a scorched Liberty Union scout vessel rotated slowly, its comm dish half-melted and bow sheared clean through. The wrecks floated like ghosts, mute warnings to anyone still listening.

  Violet walked back from the cockpit, her helmet already in place. She moved over by Aurania at the door, but didn’t speak.

  He couldn’t hear the weight of the karsanite inside the asteroids, but he could feel it. He was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened to him, but he could physically feel something about the approaching station that thrummed with tension. Like a miscalculated charge building inside a circuit.

  "You done pacing with your eyes yet?" Riza asked, not looking up from her weapon. She was talking to him.

  Soren blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring.

  Amalia turned and bubbled at him, “Aww, it's OK if you're nervous! I am too, but also excited!” She had a huge smile on her face.

  “I-I'm not…” he wasn't sure what he was feeling. “It's not my first combat mission, I guess I'm just feeling—”

  Aurania interrupted him. “Cut the chatter. We breach in two. This is hardly our first time fighting together but it’s our first time fighting offworld so keep it tight, work together. Violet, you’re on point like we discussed, Veolo you’re right behind her. Mission priorities first but as always take notes and learn as you go little one.”

  Things had been slightly tense and awkward between Veolo, Aurania, and Soren ever since the battle circle. But now, her demeanor remained stoic and disciplined. She nodded firmly to Aurania’s orders.

  “Amalia, left guard, Riza on the right,” Aurania continued.

  Amalia responded with an exaggerated bounce and salute while Riza said nothing.

  “Inelius, you’re bringing up our six,” Aurania said. Glancing at Soren she said, “You’re with me in the middle, Little Boy. Stay low. Shoot straight if you have a clear target. Don’t fuck it up.”

  Soren nodded. “I can do that.” He felt himself flush a little at the way she spoke to him. He shook his head, he needed to keep a clear mind.

  “I didn’t ask if you could,” she spat back, clipping her helmet into place. “I said do it.” She barely looked at him when she spoke. She addressed the entire team again. “Keep an eye out for survivors, check your fire, but keep each other safe.”

  The red light turned yellow and the cabin shifted as the ship rotated, aligning with one of the station’s external cargo ports. Clicking and thunking could be heard outside the door as the airlocks lined up and locked into each other.

  Soren hadn’t seen them fully geared until now. Their usual robes and half-plates were gone, replaced with vacuum-rated armor: dull silver plating across the limbs with matte-black underlays visible at the joints. Their chest armor was built large to accommodate their proportions, giving ‘barrel-chested’ a new meaning. Their helmets were sealed and featureless, reflecting the red light of the cabin. He felt like he’d been dropped into formation with a strike team, one that moved with the precision of a single body.

  Violet took point at the door, her rifle slung across her back. She reached for a dense shield locked beside the hatch. It was nearly six and a half feet tall, just enough to cover her height, but not quite his or Aurania’s. The slab was over three feet wide and five inches thick, made from Karsanite-infused plating designed to absorb ballistic impact and withstand breaching charges. It shimmered a dull graphite gray in the drop bay lights. She raised it in front of her and braced for whatever awaited them within.

  The rest of them formed up behind her.

  The light turned green and Aurania barked, “Go.”

  The hatch hissed open with a slow hydraulic whine. A retractable docking tunnel extended from their ship into the station, sealing into place with a series of heavy clunks. Interior lights flickered to life overhead, dim and pale yellow, casting long shadows across the reinforced tube. Small particles of dust hung weightless in front of them, indicating the atmosphere in the station was still pressurized.

  Violet stepped forward first, shield braced in front of her like a portable bulkhead. The tunnel was tall enough for her to walk upright, though barely. Veolo walked in sync with her, left hand on Violet’s shoulder, right hand holding her rifle with barrel to the ceiling. Aurania followed Veolo, hunching down to keep safe behind the shield but barely peering over the top edge of it.

  Amalia and Riza flanked tight to the left and right sides, rifles raised just beyond the shield’s perimeter. The spacing was tight, but practiced. Soren moved in behind them, keeping to the center. Inelius brought up the rear, scanning backward through their exit as the rest advanced.

  The tunnel gave way to the station’s outer access corridor with a hiss and a clunk. Emergency lights strobed weakly along the ceiling, red and amber pulses that cast the hall in a rhythmic wash of rusted color. The place looked long-abandoned, but it wasn’t. Scorched panels lined the walls where wiring had been hastily rerouted. Tools lay scattered across the grated floor. A crate had exploded near the junction ahead, its contents melted and fused into the wall plating. Scratches scarred the bulkheads in broad arcs, some mechanical, others too chaotic.

  “Clear forward,” Violet reported, stepping through the threshold.

  “Air’s holding,” Riza added, “I’m not seeing immediate trip hazards.”

  “We don’t assume it’s clean,” Aurania said. “We assume they’re letting us in.”

  She angled her head to peer down the hallway ahead, tapping her rifle’s trigger guard with one finger. “Hall splits at the junction. Left leads toward the elevator shaft,” she said. “That’s our route.” She tapped Riza on the shoulder, a clear non-verbal command.

  Riza responded, “Copy,” and peeled off from the group. She dropped into a crouch behind a dented cargo bin near the corridor’s mouth. She pulled her sniper cannon off her back and set it atop the bin, which was about three feet tall, just enough to steady her cannon and put something solid between her and the killzone. It was a natural choke point, she would have a clear view of anyone coming at her and she would be able to provide some cover fire if they got pushed back. If anyone wanted to steal their shuttle, they’d have to go through her.

  Veolo moved into Riza’s former position on the right flank and asked “Think they made it down?”

  “No comms in two days,” Inelius muttered from the rear. “If they’re alive, they’re pinned.”

  “Hope we’re not too late,” Violet said flatly.

  No one responded to that.

  The squad advanced in tight formation, Violet leading the way with her shield up, boots clanking against the floor grating. The further they moved into the station, the thicker the air felt, heavy with the scent of scorched metal, old smoke, and something just starting to rot.

  The emergency lights strobed overhead in irregular pulses, alternating red and amber. Each flash seemed to stretch shadows across the corridor’s walls in new, unfamiliar shapes. They passed an open maintenance panel where cables spilled out like entrails. A broken terminal sputtered sparks on the far wall. Soren caught a glimpse of old blood on the floor just ahead, thick, dried, pooled near the threshold of the left corridor.

  “Stop,” Aurania said, lifting one hand. Violet froze mid-step. Amalia and Veolo adjusted stance without a word. Soren leaned left, peeking past the edge of the shield. A body lay face down just beyond the hall’s bend. Bulky frame. Four arms.

  “Lazarco,” Aurania said, low and sharp. “Union gear.” She moved just enough to get a clean look without breaking formation. “Shot clean through the side. Probably bled out in under a minute.”

  Veolo’s voice was quiet. “Why leave him behind?”

  “Couldn’t recover him,” Aurania replied. “Or didn’t have the time.”

  Soren scanned the floor around the body. Boot scuffs, dried blood, and drag marks that stopped halfway before turning chaotic. Someone had tried. Maybe more than once. Behind him, Inelius didn’t speak, didn’t even shift his weight. But the air felt tighter, like a wire pulled to its limit. Soren glanced back. He could feel it: the tension in Inelius’s posture, rifle steady, shoulders squared. Watching their six with the weight of the situation unfolding around them.

  The squad moved on, navigating the curve in the corridor. The shadows grew deeper here, less strobing, more structural, like power was failing further down. Spent shell casings littered the floor near a corner bulkhead. Aurania held up a fist and motioned for Veolo to check the angle. The young soldier moved with a disciplined grace, sweeping the hallway with the barrel of her rifle.

  “Looks like a fallback position,” she whispered. “Cover fire sprayed inward from this angle. They were trying to hold a line.”

  Soren looked to the walls. Black scoring along the corners, shrapnel embedded in the ceiling. Blood trails curved to a half-open pressure door just ahead. The controls beside it had been shot out.

  “That’s the access to the freight elevator,” Aurania confirmed. “Stairwell to the left of it drops down too, but narrow, tight angles, no shield coverage.”

  “Can’t call the lift from here,” Amalia said, crouching beside the controls. “Shot up on purpose.”

  “They didn’t want it used,” Inelius said.

  “They didn’t want it used by someone else,” Aurania corrected.

  Violet moved up and dropped her shield beside the blast panel, then pulled her rifle off of her back. “Orders?”

  Aurania motioned to the stairs. “We breach down. Amalia, you take point this time. Short hall, then the landing opens up. Be ready.”

  “We sure this isn’t mined?” Veolo asked.

  “Nope!” Amalia said with a smile, already stepping toward the stairs.

  Soren followed mid-pack again, heart pounding harder now. The sharp industrial angles of the stairwell felt like a trap waiting to happen. Blind corners, no light, and the promise of open ground below.

  Halfway down the steps, Amalia held up a fist. Everyone froze. A low tick echoed off the wall. Then another. Something moving. Small. “We’ve got motion,” she whispered. “Tight corridor. Left side.”

  “Confirm visual?” Aurania asked.

  “No.”

  Another tick. A footstep.

  Then the hallway below lit up with rapid strobe and the sound of gunfire. Not at them, but ahead, down the lower corridor.

  Someone was still fighting. The gunfire echoed for three full seconds, short bursts with deliberate spacing.

  “Not pirates,” Aurania muttered. “Someone’s fighting like they want to stay alive.”

  “Could still be a trap,” Violet said.

  “Then we spring it smart. Violet, Amalia, you’re up. Take point on the corridor.”

  “On it!” Amalia bubbled, already moving. Violet followed, steps light, weapon raised.

  Aurania moved next, her great-axe still slung but rifle up, eyes locked forward. Soren followed behind her, keeping close but not crowding. She hadn’t said anything else to him, but her body language was clear enough: she wouldn’t trust him with their lives if there were other options. He was still too new to them, too unknown.

  He didn’t blame her for that. This whole situation was one of the most familiar feelings he’d had since waking up on Tamiyo’s ship. He’d led missions just like this, back… before. When he had just been human. And in Aurania’s position, he would treat someone like him with the same exact suspicion.

  Inelius brought up the rear, his bootfalls heavy but precise. The formation flexed around the hallway’s sharp edges like it was muscle memory. Amalia slowed at the next bend and raised a clenched fist. Everyone stopped. A new burst of gunfire rang out from ahead, short, sharp pops. Different caliber than before. Someone was still exchanging fire.

  “Not at us,” Amalia said, eyes scanning. “They’re trading shots with someone else.”

  “Which side is friendly?” Veolo asked.

  “Sounds like a standoff,” Aurania said. “Move up, quiet.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, stacking against the wall. Soren caught a flicker of muzzle flash around the corner, bright, sharp, angled downward. The shots weren’t directed toward the stairwell, but deeper into the mining corridor. Aurania pointed. Amalia and Violet peeled off left. Soren stayed just behind Aurania, crouching low as they advanced.

  Another burst of gunfire, then a lull. In the dim pulse of an emergency light, two figures came into view behind a collapsed ore cart.

  Amalia signaled: visual contact, two armed, no Union colors.

  Violet tapped her scope once, whispering into comms, “Patchwork armor. No insignia. Pirate kit.”

  “Weapons?” Aurania asked.

  “Scattergun and slug rifle, barrels look modded. Definitely not Union.”

  That was enough. Aurania gave a short nod.

  Two sharp cracks, synchronized and clean. The pirates crumpled where they stood, never seeing what hit them.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then came the sound of armor scraping against metal, someone shifting position behind the barricade further down the corridor.

  “What the hell—?” a voice called out, startled. “You see that? Who hit ‘em?”

  Another voice, raspier: “That was coordinated, wasn’t us.”

  “Hold your position,” Aurania called out, voice cutting through the corridor like a blade. “You the Vanguard team Union sent in two days ago?”

  A beat. Then the sound of boots crunching lightly over debris.

  “Identify yourself!” the first voice shouted. They sounded tired.

  “Aurania Enderchild,” she replied. “Independent support squad dispatched from The Resolute Wind. We’re here for extraction.”

  More movement now, careful, cautious. A helmet rose slowly over the edge of the barricade. Human face beneath, streaked with dirt and blood, one eye swollen nearly shut. “No Union colors,” she said nervously.

  “We’re allies,” Aurania said. “You want to argue, or survive?”

  The soldier gave a strained laugh, more relief than amusement, and lowered her weapon. “Lieutenant Maren Jao,” she said. “Squad leader for V-5 Recon. There’s five of us left. Two critical. The rest...” She trailed off.

  Aurania nodded once. “Drop the barricade. We’ve got med supplies, guns, and an exit plan.”

  The barricade didn’t drop, there was no functioning mechanism. But within seconds, one of the slabs of welded scrap was shoved aside, scraping across the floor to reveal the inner holdout.

  Soren saw them then. A small team, just like Jao had said. Two lying flat and groaning softly. One lazarco hunched over a smashed turret, reloading a belt by hand. A d’moria crouched in a corner, panting hard, holding a still-smoking barrel with a gloved hand. None of them looked like they had more than a few hours left in them.

  “We thought we were done,” Jao said. “No long-range comms. Food’s out. We’ve been fighting in shifts just to keep the pirates from getting brave.”

  Soren stepped into the room behind Aurania, gauging the damage. “We passed one of your fallen comrades on the way in,” he spoke up. “Where are the others?”

  Maren turned to look at him fully, then froze. Her expression shifted from weariness to confusion. “Holy hell,” she breathed. “You’re human? The fuck your momma feed you?” she joked with a tired smile.

  Soren almost smiled back. “Oh ya know, just a lot of…” he trailed off for a second and his eyes accidentally flicked toward Aurania. The thoughts popped into his head again, and he tried not to think about what was hidden beneath the heavy armor plating and golden scrollwork. Don’t say milk. Don’t say milk. “...caaalcium.” What the fuck that was not better.

  Maren blinked. “Huh. Okay.” She seemed too tired to inquire further.

  Aurania looked at him with a long, unreadable glare. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but it felt harsh either way. He did his best to not lock eyes with her.

  A loud thundering boom slammed through the station from off in the distance, back in the direction they had come from.

  "Uh-oh," Amalia giggled. "Someone made Riza mad."

  Soren ducked instinctively as the tremor rolled through the metal beneath their boots, followed by a dull, distant boom that echoed through the station’s inner walls. A few motes of dust filtered down from the ceiling grates. Soon another thunderous boom slammed through the station, and a few moments later, a third followed.

  The injured lieutenant looked around, wondering where the noise was coming from. She glanced over at Amalia, “W-who’s Riza?”

  Aurania acted like she hadn’t even noticed. “Inelius, Violet, triage the injuries. Lieutenant Jao, he asked you a question.” She vaguely gestured at Soren. “Where are your people?”

  “Sergeant Rourke is back there,” she gestured back behind where they were holed up. “He took a bunch of shrapnel retreating to this position. He held on for a lot longer than I thought he would, but he bled out yesterday.” Her voice strained, the stress was getting to her for sure.

  “Rhen and Kesh are down that hallway,” she continued, pointing down the hallway where enemy combatants had come from. “Siika, we got split up from her when they started pushing us back towards here.”

  Amalia was posted up to make sure no further threats came down the hallway. She yelled back at them, “Siika was the lacravida on your team, right?!”

  Maren looked at her with exhaustion, and then back to Aurania. “Yeah, a damn tough one too. We were in radio contact after we got separated, she said she pretty sure all of the civilians on the station have been killed. But… she stopped responding more’n a day ago.” She winced in pain.

  Soren watched as the warrior women all exchanged glances. He was pretty sure he could tell what they were thinking. Amalia and Veolo grinned at each other a moment later, confirming his suspicion. They wanted to go find Siika.

  Two more thundering booms slammed through the station in succession. The lieutenant looked around worried again.

  Aurania sighed a little and keyed up her radio. “Riza, report.” She didn’t sound overly worried.

  A brief moment passed, then Riza’s voice answered back through the radio. “Six enemy combatants confirmed down. Three other possibles. Sights are clear of movement for the moment.”

  “We’ve made contact with what’s left of V-5 Recon,” Aurania said back to Riza. “Hold tight for Exfil, we’ve gotta collect a couple strays.” She turned back to her team. “How we looking people?”

  “About ready to move,” Inelius responded as he continued patching up the d’moria man lying on the ground. “These two will need to be carried out,” he gestured over to the human woman lying on the ground that Violet was treating.

  “I can still fight,” spoke up the lazarco hunched over the smashed turret. He sounded a bit fatigued, but steady. “We are almost out of ammo though, and my weapon’s busted to shit.”

  Aurania looked down at him, then around the room. Finally, she handed the rifle she was carrying to him. “Know how to use this model?”

  “Y-yeah, looks simple enough,” he responded. “Thanks”

  “What’s your name?” she asked him.

  “Corporal Vesk.”

  “Well Corporal Vesk, you’re going to provide cover escort to my team while they carry yours up to our shuttle. You two can walk?” Aurania gestured to Lieutenant Jao and the d’moria crouched in the corner.

  They both nodded weakly.

  “Good,” Aurania continued. “Inelius, Violet, help get them up the stairs.” She snapped her fingers at Soren and then pointed at the d’moria Inelius had patched up. “Pick him up, you’re carrying him to the shuttle.” Then she moved to pick up the other human woman.

  The squad moved slowly and steadily, making sure not to worsen any of the injuries the vanguards had sustained. Veolo and Amalia stayed at the bottom of the stairwell with rifles trained down the hallway while the group retreated up the stairs. Aurania radioed that they were coming out so Riza would hold her fire, and they successfully got their survivors back through the airlock hallway behind Riza.

  Aurania and Soren gently set their wards on the floor of the The Ghost as their exhausted team sat down around them. Elias quickly began checking the wounded and helping make sure they were stable.

  Corporal Vesk tried giving the rifle back to Aurania, but she held out a hand to stop him.

  “Hold onto it to keep your people safe,” Aurania said as she handed the corporal the rest of her ammo. She pulled the massive axe off of her back. “Inelius, stay and give Elias a hand with them.”

  They jogged back down the airlock hallway toward Riza, and just as they were about to round the corner, she fired off her cannon. Soren felt the blast of the rifle shake his body an instant before he actually heard the noise. A handful of bullets rang past the hallway opening and peppered into the wall. Soren crouched down with Aurania and Violet, and then peered out to check on Riza.

  Just as Soren looked, she slid the massive chamber shut on her sniper cannon and took aim again. He leaned a bit further to see her target just as she fired, and he felt the shockwave blast him in the face through his helmet.

  Soren saw a lazarco pirate standing out away from a corner he had been taking cover behind. An instant later his entire torso, head, and one of his four arms exploded backwards towards a newly formed crater in the wall of the asteroid. The man’s legs and three other arms fell to the ground in a bloody pile where he had been standing.

  “Clear,” Riza said in a flat tone.

  Aurania and Veolo began to move. As Soren walked past Riza, he watched her load another massive round into the chamber. The slug was thick as hell and looked like it was almost a foot long.

  “Where are those possibles you mentioned?” he asked her.

  “Bleeding out somewhere.”

  “Hurry up Little Boy,” Aurania yelled back at him.

  He caught up to them just as they were about to head back down the stairs. They regrouped with Veolo and Amalia at the bottom, and they set off back towards where they had found the survivors.

  “What took you guys so long?” Veolo joked to Violet.

  “He couldn’t stop looking at Riza’s weapon,” Violet answered.

  Soren felt almost ashamed, like he had behaved like a little child staring through the window of a toy store. Finally he said, “I just don’t understand how she’s not blasting holes clean through the asteroid into space with that thing. Those slugs aren’t made of lead.”

  “No they’re not,” Violet answered him. “They’re actually made out of karsanite, the same stuff this colony mines.”

  Amalia giggled. “She calls them the Rods of God.”

  “I can see why,” Soren said.

  They approached the bodies of the two pirates they killed earlier. Aurania ordered Soren to grab the body of Sergeant Rourke from the holdout, and as he made his way back towards the stairs, he encountered Veolo and Aurania carrying the bodies of a d’moria and lazarco. They returned them to the shuttle like they had the survivors, and then rejoined Violet and Amalia at the bottom of the stairs. They didn’t encounter any more adversaries while extracting the bodies, and no one else had decided to dance with Riza. There was no telling how many may lie further in, however.

  Aurania ordered them to cut the idle chatter as they pressed further into the mine where they hadn’t explored yet. They began searching for Siika.

  They moved deeper into the mine, past the bloodstains and debris-strewn corridors that had marked the Vanguard fallback. The terrain changed as they descended, less like a station, more like a refinery. Pipes crisscrossed overhead. Steam hissed from vent slits. Glowing veins of raw karsanite pulsed faintly in the walls, casting sickly teal shadows across the narrow walkways. The silence held too long.

  Aurania raised a clenched fist and the squad froze.

  Veolo scanned the ceiling with her rifle. “Been a minute since we’ve heard anything. Maybe Riza cleaned up the last of them.”

  “That or they’re bunched up ahead,” Violet murmured. “Waiting for us.”

  “Or eating each other,” Amalia added helpfully.

  Aurania ignored them. She stepped forward and tilted her head, listening. Then she pointed. “Chamber ahead. Bigger space. Veolo, you lead breach with Violet and Amalia on wide flank.”

  She didn’t even bother to give Soren an order, but he knew to stay at the back and to help however he could. He kept making sweeping passes with his rifle to provide an effective rear guard.

  They moved. The tunnel curved, then opened. The moment they stepped into the chamber, the lights changed. Strobing red was replaced by a dull orange glow radiating from the chamber’s industrial furnaces. The room was six stories tall and partially sunken into the deck. A grid of metal catwalks spanned above and below, casting long crisscrossed shadows.

  Amalia spotted movement first. “Contact! High right!” she yelled.

  A muzzle flash burst from a catwalk above them. Bullets screamed down, chipping metal and kicking sparks across the deck. They all dove for cover before quickly popping back up and returning fire.

  “Enemy on the gantries! Stack and push!” Aurania yelled out.

  Three more muzzle flashes lit up, two pirates with scatterguns, one with a belt-fed rifle braced on a railing. Their armor was mismatched: red-patched vests, stolen Union gear, and bits of exosuit plating. Amalia ducked under a blast, returned fire, and dropped one of them with a shot to the throat.

  “Fifteen total!” Violet shouted. “Two flanking, north platform!”

  Two grenades clinked across the floor, one near Aurania and one near Soren. Aurania knocked the pommel of her axe-handle into the grenade and sent it flying off into an adjacent room. Soren grabbed the one near him and hurled it back up, catching one of the pirates mid-toss. The explosion lit the ceiling like a sunrise, two bodies flung free and crumpled into the smelter scaffold below.

  Veolo surged forward, firing upward in rhythmic bursts. Her stoic calm had vanished, replaced by sharp, clipped breathing as she unloaded her rifle toward an elevated guard post.

  “Pin that heavy!” Aurania barked, motioning Violet wide.

  Soren turned and saw a larger pirate dragging a mounted cannon into position atop a crate barricade. If that thing locked in, they’d be cut in half before they cleared the chamber. He opened fire on the man with the cannon. Soren wasn’t an expert marksman, but he was proficient enough to keep the man pinned behind the box.

  The firefight raged for a few moments. Metal screamed and sparks danced. Aurania continued to call out targets as they attempted to take them down, but it was momentarily a standoff.

  Aurania saw an opening and ran. She vaulted a railing, spun with her axe, and cleaved two attackers in one movement, a blur of force and steel that sent limbs flying. Then a couple sparks rang off her shoulder armor, forcing her to duck down behind a stack of crates for cover.

  Soren looked over to her, she appeared to be mostly unharmed, the armor had done its job. He ran up next to her and continued firing up at the pirate cannoneer, bullets pinging off the crate shielding the heavy's torso, but it was too late. The brief moment Soren had taken his eyes off the man had given him just enough time. The mount clanked into place and the weapon swung toward him.

  He tried one last attempt to take the heavy down with a burst of bullets as a blast tore across the chamber with a deep, mechanical bark. Soren’s head jerked sideways, and something sparked off the wall behind him.

  He hit the deck hard. The rifle flew from his hands and skidded away from him.

  “Soren—!” Aurania’s voice cracked through the chaos. She stared across the aisle, her shoulder armor scorched and glowing orange. Her cold expression, usually unreadable, broke into one of shocked concern.

  Soren groaned and sat up. Most of his helmet was gone, vaporized in a burst of shredded plating and smoking metal. He ran a gloved hand over his face and then looked at his palm. His head was ringing from the blast but, just like the firefight in the jungle on Nox, the projectile hadn’t even drawn blood. He felt like his entire body was buzzing and vibrating, the colors around him seemed brighter and more vibrant. It was like his perceptions were dialed up to 11.

  Aurania just blinked at him. “You’re alive,” she said. Her tone sounded almost disappointed. “And you’re glowing again.”

  The pain of the impact was starting to hit him, but he pushed through it. He looked at the massive great-axe on the ground next to her. “Well if this thing couldn’t kill me…” he reached out and picked it up before she could stop him.

  Soren spat out a fleck of melted polymer from his ruined helmet and stood up. Steam curled from the seared plating around his collar as several more pieces of helmet fell to the ground in chunks. His eyes locked onto the mounted cannon still tracking low, its operator stunned by what should have been a kill shot.

  The pirate behind the cannon opened fire, but Soren was already moving, charging low and fast with smoke trailing off his armor. The first burst slammed into his chest and staggered him, but he didn’t fall. He bore down, step after step, closing the distance like he didn’t care about what was trying to stop him.

  Another pirate charged from Soren’s left. Without breaking stride, he slammed the flat of the axe-head into the man’s chest, sending him skidding backward across the floor until he slammed into the far wall.

  Soren vaulted over a crate and came in high, swinging the axe down like a meteor. It cleaved through the crate, the cannon mount, and the pirate’s upper body in a single, jarring arc. Sparks flew, metal shrieked, and blood sprayed in a wide crescent against the far wall. The blade sunk partway into the floor grating before Soren wrenched it free with a raw pull of his shoulder.

  Behind him, the pirate he’d floored a moment earlier staggered upright and opened fire. Soren wasn’t sure how the bastard was still breathing, but he didn’t hesitate. As bullets slammed into his back plate, he spun and hurled the axe in a horizontal arc. It spun once through the air, then struck. The blade carved through half the man’s torso and embedded in the wall behind him with a wet crunch. His body went limp, but it didn’t fall. It hung there, pinned to the wall like meat on a hook.

  A silence grew in the chamber around him as the vibrancy of his perceptions faded away and the buzzing throughout his body receded.

  “Woooohoooo!” Amalia cheered at him. “That’s what I’m talking about, Soren! Fucking badass!”

  He smiled back at her and then noticed Violet go over to help Aurania to her feet. The smile slowly faded from his face as she walked over to her axe stuck in the wall. She glared at him the entire time.

  Aurania grabbed the haft of her great-axe and pulled, but it didn’t budge from the wall. Her nostrils flared as she yanked again with no success.

  Soren watched as she struggled for a moment, then he stepped forward slowly. “Do you want me to—”

  “No.”She yanked again. Nothing.

  Soren raised an eyebrow. He felt a bit awkward. “It’s wedged in deep. Might be easier if we—”

  “Don’t touch it.” She was being stubborn but making no progress.

  “Here, just let me—” he reached out and tried grabbing the handle but she turned and punched him hard in the shoulder.

  “What did I just say?”

  He recoiled, rubbing the spot where she struck him. “I was trying to help!”

  “Then try helping without touching my things.”

  She resumed pulling, making a struggling grunting noise. She stopped after a few moments, one hand still outstretched onto the axe handle. She hung her head in defeat.

  “... fine.”

  Soren grabbed onto the handle gingerly and began to pull, Aurania pulling along with him. A long metallic screech rang out as the blade tore free, followed by a wet thud as the dead pirate collapsed to the floor.

  Aurania yanked the axe from Soren’s hands without looking at him. “Next time, throw your own weapon.”

  Before he could answer, Veolo yelled out, “Aura! Lower corner. Might be a body.”

  The tension returned like a dropped weight. Amalia jogged forward, eyes scanning the grated floor. Violet swept her rifle left, then down toward the edge of the chamber where a collapsed service tunnel funneled into darkness.

  They found her pinned behind a broken coolant duct, half-buried in debris and slumped sideways. One of her arms was gone below the elbow. The other clutched a half-shattered rifle, barrel bent at the midpoint. Her skin shimmered faintly beneath burns and blood.

  “Siika,” Amalia whispered. Her voice cracked. They had never met her, but she was one of them.

  Veolo crouched beside the body, fingers hovering at the neck. A long pause. Then a silent shake of her head.

  Aurania exhaled slowly and stepped forward. She knelt, brushing debris and what was left of her helmet from Siika’s face. The lacravida’s expression was tight, jaw clenched, as if she’d died still resisting. “She fought them off until the very end,” Aurania said quietly.

  Veolo pried the broken rifle from Siika’s hand. Violet rested a hand on the fallen woman’s shoulder, then stepped back. Amalia knelt beside her and said nothing.

  No one did.

  Finally, Aurania reached down and grabbed Siika’s remaining arm. She knelt, pulled her onto her shoulders, and rose to her feet.

  “Let’s get her home.”

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