“So we've a new haul destined for a Vasser-owned port by name of Veka,” Saul said, addressing the whole crew from The Diggory's bridge. “Should be a short run, nothing less than neat about it; a few crates of commodity goods. After that, we’re bound back for the Sov by way of Turanda to drop off our guest in sickbay. Should have us on full shore-leave this side of the next earth-standard week. That'll be all.”

  Saul finished his broadcast and sat back in his command chair. The bridge officers resumed their duties, busying themselves at the various stations that lined the walls. The bridge around him was a standard Sovereignty design. Trademark stations were laid out along the walls; astrometrics, environmentals, cargo control, and a combat station that controlled a less than adequate complement of defensive shielding and weapons batteries.

  “We’ll be leaving riftspace in just under ten minutes, captain.” Sergeant Donal Gaul said, from astrometrics.

  “Great,” said Saul. “Have Chief Aiden in cargo prepare the shipment.”

  “Aye, sir,” said the comms officer.

  “You know what, belay that, “I'll head down and speak with him myself,” Saul said, hopping to his feet. The comms officer nodded.

  Down in the cargo bay, Aiden was busy stacking crates using the bay's maglift. The place was haphazard, almost as if a herd of cattle had run through there. There were crates half opened, their contents scattered on the floor, and some propped at precarious and somewhat impressive angles.

  “What in green earth are you doing, Sergeant?” Saul said, hands itching to rest on his own hips.

  “You've a lot of nerve.” Aiden said, “been at it not more than a day, and you're already doubting me.”

  “If doubt’s what you'd call it, sure. What I'd more match it with is general confusion. What do you think you've done with my hold?”

  “Fixed it,” Aiden said.

  “Looks a few boards short of fixed.”

  “Yes, I can see how it could look like that to you. Last guy was a hack. And it was you who put me in charge here after a long vacation onboard that station. If there's any perceived matter in flux here, I'm afraid the blame is all yours.” Aiden said, not stopping to look Saul in the eyes.

  “In flux?” Saul snorted.

  “Yes,” Aiden said firmly. “The state you had your cargo bay in before was hardly up to Sov standardisation practices, which I'm sure you are aware of. What you see now is a step forward. Any step in the right direction is better than what's before, if you follow.”

  Saul shook his head, not wanting to argue, but there was something that didn't quite sit right.

  “Sovereignty standardisation? You didn't forget that we've gone ahead and turned ourselves rogue, had you? This ship along with it.”

  “Aye.” Aiden confirmed, “but your wholesome crew doesn't know that. Seems to me you'd want to keep up appearances on the eve of our elicit deal and all.”

  That, he hadn't thought of.

  “You’ve a point. So why not just say it?”

  “Chaos.”

  “Chaos?” Saul asked, puzzled again.

  “Keep up, Captain, keep up. The more it looks like the new hire, that's me, is at odds with the good captain, that's you, the more distracted your crew will be when the time comes. Give them something to gab about.”

  “Right,” Saul said, brushing the matter aside, “and where are we – with the cargo for your contact, I mean?”

  “Cargo's great. Stacked it over there by the Herald before I started all this mess. Didn't want it to get lost in my carefully constructed abyss.”

  Saul spied the crates marked with The Par Abadd’s emblem in a neat pile by the rear-side bay doors. He shook his head, laughed, then turned to go.

  “We're five.. maybe six minutes out. Try to tidy what you can.”

  “No need, I'm ready to move as is. My contact will be meeting us on the float between ships. Less funny business that way.”

  “You're kidding.” Saul scoffed. In all his tenure in the Merchant Navy, he had never heard of deals being conducted in vacuum.

  “‘Fraid not, Captain.” Aiden confirmed, “it's for anonymity's sake. If we never breathe the air, or better yet, drop biotraces on board their ship, and they never do so on ours, then there's less to leave behind. Less to track. No definitive record of them ever setting foot aboard our boat and vice versa. Trick of the trade, you know.”

  “Smart.”

  “Self-preserving, more what it is.”

  “Be that so, I'll be taking you with me to make the swap.”

  “You're the boss.”

  “I'll tell Tidus to prep three suits.”

  “Golden Boy is coming too, then?”

  “He's read up on the situation. Would be nice to have the backup.”

  “Never said it wouldn't. So long as you trust him not to point and stare at our less than reputable friends.”

  “He won't.” Saul turned to leave, “what did you say your contact’s name was?”

  “I didn't, but if you're that concerned, it seems he or she calls themselves Dusk.”

  Saul didn't say anything, simply raising a fat black eyebrow and turned to go.

  “Another ship's opened a rift and dropped out into realspace, captain,” said the bridge bulletin officer, “they’re pulling up beside us now.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. Best they not show on shipwide telemetry if you follow.” He said.

  “You're the boss, captain,” the bridge officer said, “telemetry's dark save for the stars. Say, captain? Should we be worried about the markings on this ship?”

  “Markings, Sergeant?” Sault said, confused.

  “That's just it, sir. There isn't any,” said the Sergeant, hesitating, “any ship, be it Sovereignty, Herd, Vass or otherwise, should show colours of some kind. This one's just a grey brick.”

  Tidus, who was pulling on the trousers of his barely fitting environment suit, flashed him a look.

  The Sergeant was right. This was strange. Every vessel travelling human space had some sort of identifying marks to distinguish them as friendly. And as such would mark its acceptance at specific ports and stations. The fact that this ship had no markings meant it was either deep covert military or backed by some serious money to be able to hide it this far out on the edge of human space.

  “Nothing we weren't expecting, Sergeant,” he lied, “thanks for that keen eye.”

  “Affirmed,” said the Sergeant, signing off.

  “You better be right about these ones,” Tidus said, directing his disquiet at Aiden.

  “You've nothing to worry about. Men on his crew and I go way back.”

  “Way back?” Saul snorted.

  “Well, as far back as the bottom of a few drinks back at the bar.”

  Tidus snorted, then continued squeezing into his suit. He finally fastened it with a dull snap.

  Saul and Aiden zipped their suits up with ease, then moved to help Tidus push the cargo towards the airlock.

  “I've got them on-bulletin, Captain,” Aiden said.

  “Tell them we'll open the door for them,” Saul said, proceeding to vent the compartment and pop the airlock door out into the black.

  The starfield outside shone as dull flecks against the shielding on Saul's face visor. His visor-embedded screen flickered to life, plotting the path he would need to maneuver the crates over to the central point between both ships. Each one of them took a crate and, securing it to their torso mounted grapples, pushed off into the void, using their thrusters to make their way across the gap.

  “There's three of them, coming out now,” Aiden said, “they asked me to open a bulletin with you.”

  “Accept,” Saul said, prompting his visor to join the call.

  “Captain Calmos,” a sneering voice said with forced emphasis, “first time I've found myself dealing with naval types.”

  The three men drifted to a relative standstill several metres away from them.

  “Well, then you'll have to keep looking. It seems we've recently retired from that line of work,” said Saul.

  “As it were, I see you've brought some gifts for me.”

  Tidus snorted in Saul's ear on a private channel.

  “You know me, it seems. I suspect you pulled up my record when you got your first sight of my ship. But what can I call you?”

  “For the purposes of this meeting, you may call me Dusk.”

  Saul didn't know what more he was expecting. He figured he might as well dispense with pleasantries and get the deal moving.

  “This is the cargo, everything my Chief Aiden here sent over in our message.”

  “I must admit,” the man known as Dusk said, “I found your claim hard to believe at first. Native Earth ocean life this far past the death of our home. Amazing to think, don't you agree?” Finally, Saul could sense some emotion out of the man.

  “Amazing, sure. Valuable more what it is.” Tidus said.

  The man didn't react, not knowing from which of the men to either Saul's sides that had come from.

  “Well then, let's get this over with. I have in my hand a datacrypt with four million standard credits worth of vass currency on it. As human currency is so readily traceable, we feel that trading in foreign currency is the safest avenue.”

  He pushed the palm-sized datacrypt across the empty space over to Saul. Saul, slightly perturbed by this new hitch, caught the datacrypt then paused.

  “Chin up,” Aiden said on a private channel, “we're rich.”

  After several moments of thinking, he motioned to Tidus and Aiden to push over their crates, which the men accompanying Dusk then moved back towards their ship.

  “You say this is all the goods you happened across?” the man known as Dusk said, still floating where he had been.

  “It is,” Saul said, not wanting to mention Marge, “you have yourself a fine day.”

  Dusk turned and drifted back to his ship. Tidus and Aiden were already heading back. Saul turned to move back towards The Diggory before getting a call from Belcia, marked urgent.

  “Belcia, What is it?” Saul asked, pausing his flight back.

  “Sir, you better get back here,” she said, his face appearing on his visor screen in emerald. She looked worried.

  “We're on our way back now. Deal's done.”

  “Sir, I don't know how to tell you this. Gods, I don't even know how it is they all found out. But I knew what you were saying wasn't exactly the whole truth, with respect to the cargo and the girl in sickbay, of course.”

  Saul's gut sank, knowing his flimsy lie had failed. Though maybe he should have seen this coming.

  “Belcia, what are you saying?” he asked.

  “Seems I'm not the only one who thought that. See, some of the crew got ahold of the telemetry you'd been hiding. They know what you've done with the cargo, or at least guessed. Sir, it started as a bit of banter in the mess, then–” her face was straining, trying not to show stress. Saul didn't want to interrupt her.

  “There’s some die-hard Sovereignty loyalists amongst our crew. Well, now there's talk of a full uprising. A mutiny.”

  Mutiny? It had been a long time since he'd heard a claim like that, and that was back when he was being accused of it for ousting Aiden, or Pates as he was known then.

  “Belcia, are you safe?” He asked.

  “Uh, yes. I– or at least I think I–”

  “Good,” he said, “and what about Lisa, the girl we picked up in the medbay?”

  “She's fine. Docbot is still tending to her. Saul– captain– should I be worried?”

  “No, there's no need to worry until we know more. I'm on my way back now. Should be out of the suit in fifteen. Go to the medbay. See to our guest.”

  “Medbay. Got it,” she said, her face fading to the black of space outside.

  Aiden cycled the airlock just as Saul reached it. Apparently, he too knew something was amiss. Tidus as well, as he began hastily removing his suit and helm just as the airlock cycled to green.

  “Tidus, Aiden, I take it you’re aware?” Saul asked, his head still spinning.

  “Belcia gave us the news; it seems history’s about to repeat itself,” Aiden said. Saul can see he was almost amused.

  “Hardly,” Tidus said. “Last time when the captain gave you the boot, it could be argued unwarranted. This time, however.”

  His words hurt, but Saul knew he was right. Last time it was greed and professional drive that led to him removing Aiden from command. Now though, the crew may be within their rights to a full-on revolt. Or at least that’s how the Sovereignty would see it.

  Even before he reached the mess hall, Saul could sense the commotion. Along with the litany of chatter echoing out towards him, he could make out a distinct voice at the centre of it.

  The man who served as the voice’s origin remained seated when Saul entered, barely making any effort to notice Saul’s presence. Saul recognized the man as Chief Steward Raymond Dupahl. Chief Dupahl kept speaking.

  “–and we’ve been led down this path without any semblance of knowing cooperation on our part! We’ve been duped, been made a fraud of our own governance. And that man right there,” he pointed his whole arm at Saul without turning his head, “that man right there is to blame!”

  The crowd turned to see him in unison, and the chatter ceased. Saul knew the other shoe was about to drop if he didn’t say something to sway things back his way.

  “The situation is far from ideal, as I know many of you can plainly see, “ he said, trying not to sound patronising.

  “Far from ideal? That’s rich!” an unknown voice spoke from somewhere in the crowd.

  “You’ve a lot of nerve showing up here after what you’ve done, Calmos,” Dupahl growled, “why should any of us listen to anything you have to say?”

  Saul didn’t know what to say. As far as he felt, the crew was right, and he was in the wrong. Maybe he had been selfish for dragging them all into this?

  “Lay off the captain!” an out-of-breath Belcia said as she pushed past a few members of the crowd into view. “He’s only looking out for us, don’t you see?”

  A weakened Lisa Hutteno followed closely behind her, dazed and yet unsettled by the sudden circumstances she found herself in so soon after waking.

  The way she said it almost sounded sincere. He knew he was going to have to really make it up to her later.

  “Yeah, and how’s throwing our lives away to our benefit?” Dupahl snorted. “From where we’re sitting, looks to be like the captain unilaterally made a deal with criminals not once but twice, was directly involved with the murders of two and capture of one Section Security Officers, and not only that but lied about it to his crew all while making us complicit in his crimes. Or did I miss something?”

  The crew members in the mess began to chitter amongst themselves again.

  “Pretty much sums it up,” Aiden said from behind Saul, thankfully too quiet for Dupahl to hear.

  “Chief– Raymond, please let me explain,” Saul said, his voice crackling under stress. Tidus laid a hand on his shoulder and nodded before stepping forward and slamming a fist on a mess hall table. The loud crunch silenced the crowd’s uproar in an instant. Tidus gestured to him to begin.

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  He knew this was his last chance to right the wrongs.

  “My crew,” He began, “I have wronged you. I can see that plain as day. I have acted not as a captain should but selfish and unjust. I should have asked before leaping us off this cliff.”

  A few of the crowd began nodding along with his speech.

  “But that does not deal with the question we now face ourselves with. What do we do from here?”

  Saul paused.

  “As captain, I have seen my fair share of how the Sovereignty operates, how they treat their crews, especially in such far-flung routes as we have found ourselves running of late. For the first while, I channelled my disquiet into career advancement, into making captain. I thought that maybe life for myself would be brighter on this side of the pond. But I was wrong, and nothing here is any better than from where you find yourselves sitting now. And so I dreamed of something more. Why, now, did I choose to react? To drag you all into this at this pinprick in time– was it chance– was it momentary selfishness– was it some divine providence? Well, I can’t say much for the latter, but it was something. But here we are now, at the precipice. I may have made the decision to start us down this path, but it remains in your hands whether to turn back to the cold existence under The Sov or to follow me unto uncertain waters. It is now that we can become what we wish, do as we please, and serve to master but ourselves!”

  As Saul finished, he looked about the room. Much of the crowd did the same, apparently not sure of what to make of his speech. There was noticeable discord rising; his words seem to have reached a few of them. That’s when the Digorry’s general alarm sounded. The crowd froze, some looking to him, the rest looking towards Dupahl for direction.

  “Proximity Alert. Proximity Alert.” All wall screens and hand terminals scattered throughout the crowd were now flashing.

  “Terran Sovereignty Navy ship Mercurial has entered the system with hostile intent. All hands report to stations.”

  The crowd didn’t wait. Instead, erupting into organised panic, they all made their way to stations. Through the commotion, Saul and Dupahl stayed standing, staring at one another before Dupahl disappeared into the flood of bodies.

  “Captain?” Sergeant Gaul said, still dutifully on the bridge despite the commotion.

  “Go ahead, Sergeant,” Saul said, briskly making his way to the bridge.

  “The TNS Mercurial’s got a message here for me to play ship-wide. They say they’re going to broadcast it whether I help them or not. Sorry captain.” He said, signing off.

  “Renegade Crew of the TMN Diggory,” the voice rang throughout the Diggory’s cabins on all available loudspeakers, wallscreens, and even patched through and slaved all of the crew member’s tablets, Saul’s included.

  “This is Commodore Lior der Waals of Our Sovereignty Navy’s Mercurial.” A staunch bald man in a tightly tailored naval flight suit said, “You are hereby in violation of solicitation of unwarranted individuals, guilty of both disruption of the peace and collective manslaughter of eight individuals on Flotsam Station, and in gross default of the terms of your contract with our Navy’s merchant arm and by extension our Queen.

  I hereby relinquish any and all claim your Captain Saul Calmos has to the direction of the crew of the Diggory, strip him of the ranks of Lieutenant and Captain and place any and all that have acted in concert with him under arrest.

  Any who wish to avoid the appearance of collaboration with this individual must act to expel this cancer from your midst. Turn all parties involved over to me and allow the docking of our shuttle, and I will see that there is no need to escalate matters further. You have one hour.”

  Saul was still halfway to the bridge when the broadcast ceased. He knew if the Mercurial, and this Commodore der Waals, wanted to, they could quickly overtake The Diggory’s meagre defences. Just by the name, and by the man’s clout, that the ship that was now bearing down on him was at least a light frigate, if not a full battleship. When it comes to losing control of their people, The Sovereignty did not mess around.

  He noticed now that aside from some far-off muffled screams, he was alone in the corridor. Saul decided that it was time to run. He tapped Tidus’ icon on his tablet.

  “Sir?” A harried Tidus said, noticeably trying to direct crewman from what looked like a starboard corridor. “Anything I can help with?”

  “Tidus, I think it’s time we left.”

  “Left? I’m afraid you’ll need to clarify.” his thick accent rolling on thicker now as stress seemed to be getting to him.

  “Pack your things, and tell those you trust. We’re getting out of here.”

  “Repeat. You say we’re leaving The Diggory behind?”

  “Scuttle it, say your goodbyes, and leave behind the crew that don’t want a chance at a better life,” Saul said.

  He could tell Tidus didn’t like that, having spent the entirety of his tenure under Saul acting as the conciliator. He didn’t argue, however; instead, he nodded and signed off.

  That was settled then, and wheels were turning, but his recruitment drive had only just begun.

  “Sergeant?” Saul said, getting the torn Sergeant back on bulletin. “Sergeant, can you read?”

  “Aye, cap– I mean– what is it I call you?”

  “Saul will be fine,” He said, not wanting to waste time protesting his apparent demotion.

  “Right, Saul. What can I help you with?” The Sergeant said, still a little unsure.

  “I take it by your answer that you’re still with me?”

  “For the moment,” The Sergeant said, “Though that’s a sentiment that not many of my compatriots share.”

  “Read you.” Saul said, “Get a message out shipwide. All crew that want to join up and escape this sinking ship meet in cargo. Anyone else who tries to stop us, best think twice. We’re getting off this ship one way or another.”

  “Aye.” The Sergeant said, not delaying.

  Next on his list was Belcia.

  “Chief Cardes, can I count on your support?” He said, dialling her just after his shipwide notice went out.

  “Saul, here’s the thing,” she said labouredly. “I’ve been speaking with Dupahl and some of the others here. They may have a point. You may have been kind to me, training me all these years, but I think you are in the wrong. Maybe you should just turn yourself in?”

  Her words hurt.

  “Belcia, I–” Saul started to say before Lisa came into view on Belcia’s feed.

  “Saul Calmos. You have a lot of nerve thinking that after you stole, plotted, and murdered your way through my station. Not to mention kidnapping me, that you still have some moral high ground. If you don’t turn yourself in, I swear to gods on-high that I will do it for you, lest you drag the rest of these poor souls down with you.”

  Saul killed the call. He let out a heavy sigh but decided to make one last call.

  “Aiden?”

  “Here, Cap. What can I do for you?” He said, seemingly unphased by the events of the last few hours.

  “Any idea how The Sov found us way out here?” Saul said, trying to think of something other than the sea that sloshed in front of him.

  “Your guess is far better than mine in this, I think.” Aiden said, “though, maybe Dusk wasn’t as scrupulous as I may have been led to know. Figures that unsavoury types might be less than savoury.”

  Saul shook his head at that. “Where do you stand in all of this?”

  “I haven’t any idea what you could be getting on about. As far as I see, Sovv is reaching again where they don’t belong. We’re not even in Sovereignty Space, let alone any of the Human Hold-Worlds, come to think of it.”

  “A point. Though, I don’t know what good it does us. We’re laughably out-gunned, and with the crew split as it is, we’re outmatched. Any ideas?” Saul said, stabbing at the sky.

  “You’ve one choice as I see it.” Aiden started.

  “Don’t say turn myself in.” Saul signed.

  “No, no. Well, maybe at first.”

  “Just spit it out,” Saul said, growing impatience making him feel sick.

  “Act like you’re turning yourself in. Send a shuttle, pack it with fuel cells, and boom! Mercurial lights up like The Capital on Colony Day.”

  Saul knew what an act like that would mean for him. So far as he was concerned, right now, he was an outlaw, a thief, even an arguable party to murderers. But blowing up a naval ship like that would lead to an all-out manhunt on his part.

  “You think I’m crazy enough to do that?”

  “Maybe not. You did allow the presence of explosives in the last heist, just find yourself another Soffan, and we’ll get the ball rolling.”

  “That was different. There were no innocent people involved. The crew onboard the Mercurial has nothing to do with their Commodore’s orders.”

  “And this time is any different? Seems to me that Lior der Waals is holding our whole crew accountable for our captain’s actions. Why should his crew be treated any differently?” Aiden reasoned.

  “This is a black hole we’re going down,” Saul said, tentatively.

  “You know we’re caught in rough waters. There’s nothing we can do but find our footing best we know how.”

  “And a bomb is our only answer?”

  “Way I see it, it is,” Aiden said, reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving his tablet, which seems to have been already dialled into a call. “What do you say, Tidus, any objections?”

  Saul was blindsided. He hadn’t expected Aiden to go around him like this, let alone contacting Tidus of all people on his own.

  “Seems there’s little choice on our part, Saul,” Tidus said, using his first name for once, which showed how serious he was. “And besides, I’ve got those trusted individuals with me that you requested. Seems there’s a weakness on the Mercurial’s hull far from any crew quarters. Should cause a bit of crippling damage and not harm their life-systems or crew.”

  For once, Saul felt a little relieved. Maybe with Aiden’s quick thinking and Tidus’ steadfast backing, he might just get through this mess.

  “You’ve got my sign-off,” he said. “Tidus, do what you need to do. And Aiden?”

  “Cap?”

  “Send a burst over to the Mercurial, let them know that I’ll be turning myself in.” He said with a smirk. “And maybe load up the Herald for departure in thirty; seems we’ve one extra shuttle taking up space in our bay. Also, see what you can do about tracking down whoever gave away our position to the Sovereignty. Ain't no reason for them to be showing up unannounced in this region of space.”

  “You've got it,” Aiden said.

  “Sir?” Belcia said, joining the call, “I thought I should tell you. Some of the crew are in an uproar over the Mercurial showing up. They think on top of everything that you've ratted us all out. I don't know why that makes any sense, but you better make it back to the mess hall. Dupahl's at the head of a mob. They’re starting to arm themselves.”

  “Belcia. Thanks,” he said, not sure what else to say to her. He could feel the contention in her voice. He knew she disagreed with his actions over the last few days. “Might I ask why you're telling me this?”

  She paused. “I'm not crystal, really. I guess, faults or no, you’re still my captain at the end of it.”

  Saul felt a little relief.

  “Though you'll be making it up to me once this is all done.” She finished and signed off.

  Saul, his heart heavy, headed back toward the mess, but not before stopping in on his quarters and grabbing his sidearm. Earth be damned if he was going to face Dupahl unprepared again.

  Saul arrived at the mess to find it empty. On his terminal, a chime followed by a single line of text from Belcia: “I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Saul barely had time to react. The doors at either end of the mess ground shut as a sort of shocking testament to just how under-maintained both The Diggory and his relationship with the crew was.

  Shots began to ring out, one flashing by Saul's face, another clipping him in the meat of his right leg. He dropped low, took cover behind a pillar and opened fire, remembering his training from years ago.

  “Men!” Saul said, his voice full of rage, “you must hear me!”

  “Your words are poison! As far as we’re concerned, our captain is already dead.” Dupahl said from the far side of the room, his voice muffled by sporadic gunfire.

  For a moment, Saul felt nothing but shame. He had led himself into this. He had selfishly started the chain of events leading to him defending himself from his once crewmates alone, out-gunned and bleeding. He looked down. The gunshot that had impacted his lower thigh had made far more damage than he had assumed. It wasn’t until now that he realised how much blood he was losing on the floor.

  He took a few potshots over the crate, hoping to force the men back. Even now, he cared for them. He knew he didn’t want to harm them, despite his disregard for their livelihoods over the past few days.

  “You’re too late, Dupahl,” Saul said through clenched teeth. “The Mercurial’s gonna get hit. They’ll be after all of us if we don’t clear out of here, and soon!”

  “What have you done!” Dupahl screamed. Saul could hear footsteps, and he knew Dupahl had left his cover. In the dark, the man’s footsteps quickened, moving closer with a determinism he never knew he had possessed.

  Saul stepped out from cover, his arms raised. He dropped his sidearm, which came clamouring down on the crate in front of him. Dupahl didn’t fire. Instead, he stopped abruptly with an almost cartoonish quickness. He still held his rifle high, levelled at Saul’s chest.

  Saul could see the overwhelming hate in Dupahl's eyes. His teeth were grating, flexing through the walls of his cheeks. Sweat dripped from his blood-soaked bald head, and it was clear to Saul that the mess hall hadn’t been Dupahl’s first stop on his inquisition of the ship.

  He could feel it, his end creeping in with hightide.

  Dupahl’s terminal chirped.

  “That’s it,” Dupahl said to the four men that followed up behind him. “We have authorization.”

  Saul was confused. What’s it?“I’m afraid you’ll have to catch me up,” Saul said.

  “Catch you up?” Dupahl said, the hate still brimming on his face. Saul could see something was different somehow as if Dupahl was keeping himself from smiling. “Fine, seems der Waals has seen some light in the storm you conjured.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Saul asked.

  “You’ve been deposed,” Dupahl said, the grin finally creeping through.

  “And you promoted in my place, I take it?” Saul said, hardly surprised that Dupahl had been stupid enough to fall for this, “I imagine as much that if I were to say der Waals was playing you, you wouldn’t believe me?”

  “You’d be correct,” Dupahl said, dismissing his concern. He typed something quickly on his terminal. “And now they’ve been made aware of your little shuttle bomb. I knew you were planning something when I didn’t see you get on that shuttle before departing, luring you to the mess and hearing you just confirms it.”

  “Dupahl, you fool,” Saul let his arms drop to his side. “Despite all that admittedly I’ve done to you, to the crew, this mistake of yours, I’m afraid, has cost us our lives.”

  “Cap?” Aiden said, tapping into the mess’ public comms.

  “Hold on there, Aiden. Our new captain and I are in the middle of a discussion.”

  “New captain? Well, that didn’t take long, I’m back on board for what, a week, and you're canned?” Aiden said with a snort. He continued.

  “Well, that’s far from potent. Seems our new captain just tried to send out a message over to the Mercurial, blowing a whistle on our carefully laid out scheme. But don’t worry, I stopped it. Put a handy new filter in the network a few days back that alerts me prior to any message going out.”

  Dupahl’s face shifted back to rage, and he forced the barrel of his rifle against Saul’s chest.

  “You son of a bitch!” he said, “You realise what you’ve done?”

  “Besides theft, some light murder, and turning us pirate?” Saul said, sardonically, “I’m coming up empty.”

  “You’ve torn us from our homes!” Dupahl spat, “Me, You, the crew, we will never be able to go back from this. We will never be able to see our families, our loved ones again. We will never again see home. You selfish, fucking man.”

  Dupahl pushed again on the gun, tears forming on his face.

  “I hate to interrupt, but the Mercurial’s hailing us,” Belcia said, stepping out from behind Dupahl. Saul hated to see her there, to have to stand with these men because of all he had done. He knew he had let her down, let them down. Instead, he stood firm. Now was not the time for more sorrow.

  “Patch it to the mess,” Saul said, emotionless.

  Lior der Waals appeared on the mess’ wallscreen, his face shimmering in sullen emerald.

  “Your time has come to an end, Calmos.” Lior der Waals said, “And looks to me like you’ve met my newest emissary.” He gestured to Dupahl.

  “You’ve to turn yourself over to us, now, where you’ll be hastened back to Sovereignty space to face retribution and sentencing. Failure to do so will result in the deaths of each and every one of your crew.”

  Dupahl turned. “You said they would be unharmed.”

  “And they will remain as such, as long as the criminal in your midst, his accomplices, Tidus Backen and Francis Aiden, are turned over to us without further delay.” Lior snorted condescendingly.

  “I’m afraid that’s no longer possible,” Saul said. For a moment, he thought maybe he should have taken the snooty der Waals up on his offer, sacrificed himself to redeem the crew. He could feel his selfish decisions forming a crumbling foundation beneath him. It no longer mattered, however. At this very moment, a shuttle dark against the black of the void was on its way to strike the Mercurial, freeing him from any decision he could make from this point.

  “You see–” Saul began to say.

  “Sir!” Dupahl cut him off, “Sir, I tried to send word. This traitor and his accomplices, as you put it, have sent a bomb aboard the shuttle! You must act to destroy it!”

  “You–” der Waals said before being rocked from his seat by the sudden gravity of an eruption visible on the wallscreen before dropping the feed.

  “Bullseye!” Aiden said on the comms.

  Tidus chimed in, “Direct hit to the Mercurial mid-ship. Captain, if anytime were a time to act, now would be it while we’ve bought this distraction.”

  Dupahl lowered his rifle, stunned.

  “All I wanted was to go home,” he said before Aiden entered and swiftly walked up behind him, a hand cannon raised to the back of the man’s skull and pulled the trigger.

  Belcia dropped to her knees, sobbing. The men that had come in with Dupahl, dropped their weapons to the floor and stood helpless and uncertain.

  Saul, stony, walked over to Belcia. He hoisted her up, his adrenal, shaking hands on his shoulders.

  “Belcia, I need you to get to the engine bay,” he said, his voice stern. She looked up at him through a wall of tears, “I need you to get The Diggory moving.”

  “Tidus, we’re far from safety. I need you to rally as much of the crew as there is left, get them to understand the danger we find ourselves in, regardless of how we got here. We act now, or we die.”

  He turned to Aiden. Aiden nodded and grabbed Dupahl’s half-headless corpse by the arm, dragging it out the way he came in.

  Several minutes later, The Diggory began to leap away from the Mercurial at several thousand kilometres per second. The distance between them grew quickly, but somehow Saul felt as if the whole of the Rift Quarter wasn’t enough to run in. He could see from his chair on the bridge that The Mercurial had taken massive damage to their rear cargo levels, engineering, and some unexpected referred damage reaching the crew levels. He hadn’t expected to cause that amount of devastation. Perhaps in their haste to save themselves, they had miscalculated and piled even more deaths onto their record.

  It was then that he received a call direct to his private channel from Lior der Waals. He hadn’t known that was possible, that a captain like der Waals had access to reach his private channel without access. Perhaps he was trying to be obvious before, broadcasting his intent shipwide to stir up disorder. Why then now did he choose to contact Saul directly. He accepted the call.

  “Seems I’ve underestimated you, Calmos. Though, I should have seen this coming.” der Waals said.

  Saul didn’t respond, trying not to alert anyone around him.

  “No witty response? Well, I’ve got one. You tried to cripple me, cripple my ship, hurt me and my own. You have made an enemy this day, even if your attempt to cripple us had failed so laughably, Calmos. Or shall I say, Calmost?” The man chuckled, coughing as he did. Saul could hear even if he couldn’t see the man he knew he was injured.

  “What you have done... that comes with a price. I see you, Calmos. I will hunt you. I will end you and yours. I know you have a son, see. And I’ll be paying him a visit.”

  Saul’s heart sank. This man knew him, knew his record. He knew about his son. Saul had underestimated him. Saul also knew der Waals was rambling, stalling for something, but what?

  “You have made a grave miscalculation in doing the things that you did. You see, you’ve crippled my rift engines. Hat’s off to you for that, by the way.” der Waals continued, “But what you failed to do was remove the capability from our main rail cannon. Goodbye, Calmost. And let the universe be better for your absence.”

  der Waals signed off, leaving Saul stunned. He had thought that after what had just happened with Dupahl and the crew, that he had no more emotion left. Here, however, was poignant and abject fear. A fear he had never felt before—a fear deep in his bones.

  “Tidus, open a rift. Set a course for Seraph system. Do it now!” Saul said, petrified.

  “Captain,” Belcia said from engineering, “Captain, we aren’t ready. Dupahl’s men forced me to put the rift engine into full shutdown. It’s going to be several minutes before she’s back up.”

  Fear forced Saul from his chair despite his leg throbbing, still dripping with blood. He walked over to Tidus’ terminal and spoke slowly and quietly enough for no one else to hear.

  “Tidus, tell me you see it.”

  “Aye, I see it,” he said, pointing to the rail round that was streaking towards them at a significant fraction of light speed. The two of them stood, staring at the terminal screen, unable to move.

  Minutes bled into years as they watched the round rocket closer. Saul could feel the gods calling his name, just pleaded for his time to be up. He thought of all he did, all the lives he had irreparably changed over the last few days. Saul thought of Belcia, her trust in him forever ruined. He thought of Tidus, standing beside him like he did in all things, and how he had suffered for it. He thought of his son, Cole.

  “Sir?” Belcia’s voice blared on the bridge wallscreen. “Sir, I think we are about there. We’re far from acceptable operating parameter guidelines, but she'll do us.”

  “Tidus!” Saul barked.

  The Diggory lurched, a vast, shapeless, ship-size rift in the universe opening, forming itself around the front of the hull. The rift expanded slowly and unevenly due to the engine’s unpreparedness. Saul could feel his stomach turn to knots, nausea overtaking him. Several of the crew wretched, some on their stations in front of them. Tidus and Saul tried to reach their seats, strapping themselves in. The view on the ship’s wallscreen of the rift at first showed the black of the void, then narrowed into a small prick of light that expanded to show a system at the other end. Another starfield appeared, expanding into view as they moved into the rift, the ship’s hull lamenting and shaking.

  The rail round struck just as the Diggory’s aft section passed into the rift, and the rift began to close, careening the ship into the void of the rift with such force that Saul had to fight not to blackout. He could see that the starfield ahead of them had gone. The rift had closed behind them. And they found themselves hurtling through the empty black with no markers, no sign of where they were.

  “Tidus. Tidus, can you hear me?” he said.

  Tidus was folded over his station, his arms limp at his sides. Blood was running down his wrists.

  “Belcia, are you still–?” Saul said, opening a ship-wide channel.

  “Yeah, crystal.” She said, her voice ragged, the connection unstable and filled with static.

  “Can you get us out of here?” Saul asked.

  “First need to find out where here is, but yeah. I think I can,” she said. From her voice, it was obvious to Saul that she was on her feet, hustling about the engineering level.

  “Ship’s gravity is still on, so that’s nice,” Saul said.

  “Yeah, well. They built these old freighters to last then, It seems. Captain?”

  “Yes, Belcia?”

  “You do have a plan for when we’re all out of this, right? I mean, it’s not all been just one horrible disaster to the next without some sort of end goal.”

  “The end goal’s moved so many times I can’t see straight anymore,” Saul said, honestly.

  “Was afraid you’d say something like that. Promise me one thing?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise you won’t say that to the crew when they wake? Hell, they’ve been through a few things, and the last they need is no hope. Just lie if you have to.” she said, signing off.

  A sudden batch of telemetry appeared on Saul’s terminal sent from Belcia’s. He smiled and activated it. Saul could see from the readouts in front of him that he had lost nearly eighty percent of his fuel reserves, as well as in-system engines. Life support, gravity, support systems were still active, though limping along. The ship lurched again as the drive came on, the engines attempting to right themselves. The rift projector righted itself, refocusing and opening a starfield at the other end. The computer showed that the stars were not of the Seraph System but of one unknown to the computer’s charts.

  Saul sighed – one more problem this was – and deactivated the drive. The ship limped out into the uncharted system, just as the main rift engines went offline and unresponsive.

  “Shit,” he said.