1: Breaking the Surface

Chaucer-class ice hauler Abzu’s Bounty
Free float, orbiting Saturn’s outer ring

Captain’s Reyes spent the start of the third shift with the surveyors going over readings from the last of the haul. One of the ice chunks came back with unusual readings, some kind of silicate, that tripped a flag in the ship’s computer. She’s bleary-eyed and exhausted, third shift is normally when she kips down. She's left Caiden Lobos to prep the scheduled week-long burn back towards Ceres, and the crew have been busy carry out his orders.

About an hour into the shift, Olivera, the comms officer, calls the captain over. "Communique just came in from corporate, captain’s eyes only."

"Just what I need," Reyes rubs her eyes and stands from the surveying consoles. "I’ll take it in my office."

When Reyes emerges a few minutes later her face is pale. Everyone can tell something’s got her spooked, and her energy is infectious on the bridge. She heads over to the captain’s console and begins keying in commands. After a minute a tall, broad shouldered Earther, one of the Bounty’s medical officers named Hinkley, steps onto the bridge in a speckless flight suit. He glances about at everyone but, seeing no injuries, crosses his arms, a bemused look on his face.

"Listen up, we have orders to retrieve this silicate material the ship flagged on the last ice block, full containment protocol," Reyes says as she waves her hand over the command terminal. The holographic display shows a small, black, crystal-like lattice in a crack on the ice, hardly more than a millimetre in size. "Lobos, you take point on this. Hinkley, I’ve requested a medical-grade sample canister from the med bay. You’re to retrieve the sample and bring it directly to my office, and make sure full decontamination is observed. Moon, you’re on extraction. This is a precision job, so I want extra stability, no free floating. Matar, you’ll operate the work platform."

The young Belter pilot scowls, shooting a nervous look at Lobos, but hands off his station to Arnova, summoned to the bridge to cover him. "You got it, bosmang."

"Word of this doesn’t leave the bridge. Anyone asks, it’s a standard purity test, we needed one more to finish some paperwork. And I don’t want anyone fucking around on this. Anyone jeopardizes the safety of my crew, I’ll put them out the airlock myself. Understood?"

"Of course, Captain," Hinkley mutters, looking a little nervous. He turns to Lobos, "I’ll grab the canister and meet you at the airlock."

"Bi right deya," says Matar, the Belter pilot. He floats goes over to Olivera, tapping away on his handheld. "Oye, tékimang! Comms open, ke? Gotta send a message to mi matna on Ceresh fore mi suit up."

Once she’s given the orders Reyes slumps in her chair, looking utterly bone weary.

Reyes shoots Lobos a look, but jerks her head towards her office.

She leads the way into what amounts to a closet; might have even been one, once. Barely enough room inside for a couple of seats and a small desk terminal. Despite Reyes' time aboard the Bounty, there's very few personal touches. A holographic print behind the desk shows a scene of a Inner paradise, all lush tropical greens, sparkling white sand and ocean blues, Thailand pre-flood, that provides the room with a little ambient colour, augmented by the UV lamps. Aside from a couple of digital postcards displayed on the wall the only sign of any one using the office is a single digital photo frame with a picture of Reyes, looking much the same but smiling, and a dark-skinned, bearded man with salt and pepper hair. Their arms are around each other, standing in front of a huge window with the colourful solar wind displays on Titan's cloud cover behind them--a professional tourist picture from the popular Outer destination.

"Make it quick," she says, curt but not angry. Reyes has been a decent enough commanding officer, tough when she needs to be, but fair most of the time. Maybe not pushing back against the XO's bullshit as much as she should, but her attitude is typically to let adults sort their own shit out, she's not a babysitter. "I still want everything secured for the burn back to Ceres, on schedule."

Reyes tries to hold Lobos’ gaze, a stoney, implacable scowl, but he notices her hands, reaching for the terminal, aren’t able to enter her ID, a slight enough tremor, but she’s still shaking. She follows his gaze, and then clasps her hands in front of her on the desk, dropping her gaze to stare at them. Lobos has never seen her like this. The crew had a bad accident on their last run, Lobos was in the same job, when the repair skiff operator had an oxygen tank malfunction and almost tore their nav array apart. They even had a pirate scare a couple of days ago, which spooked the bridge crew. Reyes seemed even-keeled through all of it.

Now she’s cracking, and she knows it.

"I’m fucking scared, Caiden," she says, her voice low and furtive. Lobos can tell the admission is a labour for her. "The flag got passed on to corporate, standard unrecognized contaminant protocol. Two and a half hour delay, we get a message from Ceres. ‘Stand by and wait for instructions.’ Not even two minutes later… tightbeam from… fucking no place I’ve ever heard there’s a station. Unregistered origin. It said: ‘Material inert. Full containment protocol instructions attached. Return to Ceres immediately. Delete all comms logs concerning silicate.’"

She reaches down and pulls a bottle of Paranubes Rum wrapped in protective cloth out of her file cabinet under the desk, two small glasses. With a practiced hand, she slaps two generous glasses out and, with a practiced efficiency, downs hers in one gulp. The translucent spirit floats as a large jiggling globule in the other glass.

"I’ve been with Krystal Kleer for seventeen goddamned years, and I have never heard of instructions coming from an unregistered transmission, let alone instructions to purge logs… with all this shit going on…"

She takes a steadying breath and composes herself.

"Tell them I’m just… sending a message confirming safety protocols with Ceres, that Skipper just needs her beauty sleep. I just need a minute," she leans back in the chair, tucking the rum away safely, a little closer to the stoic company woman. "Just get this done. And let’s get the fuck back to port."

"Oh ya, bosmang. Milowda plan honeymung on Luna."

Hinkley laughs and shoots Lobos an amused grin. One of the technicians, a tall, lanky Belter woman, maybe in her mid-30s, with dark brown hair pushed back steps beside Zaki, giving Lobos a nod. Izzy Moon’s clever dark brown eyes flick to the suit of armor before turning to her locker.

"Oye bosmang, mi go over da extraction procedure," Moon says, confident, her accent the lyrical cant from the Asian-Latin Belter demographic of Ganymede. "Na problem."

The Belters fist bump and chat ships in da Lang as the three crew members hop into their VAC suits. Lobos is at least pleased to see that Hinkley seals his VAC suit correctly.Lobo’s handheld chimes. Clearly the senders didn’t expect someone on this ice hauler to have military-grade decryption software. The report runs through the tightbeam transit extrapolation, tracing the origin to the Jovian planetary system. Lobos would have to cross reference with Jupiter’s orbital data to determine if it came from a relay on a moon, or something in orbit. There’s a bevy of metadata, but like Captain Reyes said, unregistered. That signals tech's only available to the military arms of Earth or Mars… or else someone rich enough to afford it.

"Check, check," Hinkley says into the suit’s radio, and the other two confirm on the work crew frequency. "Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually going to see one of those in action."

He nods at the PHEG getup. Despite the action it’s seen, it gleams against the dull and timeworn Belter ice hauler’s equipment room.

The Belters glance over at the suit of advanced armor. They share a quick look before turning to prepare their tools and start the work platform launch sequence.

"I was UN too, sir," Hinkley says, nodding at Lobos respectfully. "Peacekeepers. Combat medic."

Lobos maneuvers the block into the canister, and it seals shut.

Hinkley nods, "We got it. Canister is sealed, no residual contaminant detected, perfect cut."

He shoots Moon a smile and clumsy thumbs up in the VAC suit. Moon responds with a flourishing zero-G bow. "Taki taki."

Hinkley assures everyone that once the canister is sealed it could withstand a ship crash, biohazard-grade. Everyone climbs back over to the platform and, the second everything’s secure Zaki has the thrusters back to manual, sighing in boredom.

*

Captain Reyes seems to relax slightly once the canister is in the small lockroom at the back of her office, as if whatever trouble that sample might bring her was sealed in with it.

Things return to some semblance of normal once she goes to bed. Lobos works with the duty staff to finish securing everything and pre-flight checks for preparation to start the burn back to Ceres.

The only word she speaks about it to a soul is when she catches Lobos at the end of his shift, "I deleted all the comms."

She glances down at his handheld terminal, then back up to his eyes, nodding, "All of them."

They both know he’s holding a little insurance.

Reyes does final checks and makes a call on the shipwide PA. "This is Captain Reyes, we are prepared for the burn and will be getting underway in one minute from now. Please take your seats and key in your company ID for access to the drug dispensers should you need them. We should be returning to Ceres in seven full cycles. Thank you."

She nods to Zaki who turns back in his chair, keys in the ignition sequence, checking systems with engineering. At "zero" he hits the ignition. The silent roar out in the vacuum kicks everyone hard back into their seats. Soon, the Bounty is flying with a solid .3 G.

Before his next shift, as Lobos wakes and goes through his "morning routine", he heads down into the mech shoppe. The XO is using the weights when he arrives.

Executive Officer Bart Mitchell is a pale slab of a Belter, clearly afforded the professional fitness facilities of a station security barracks. About 6’5, his face is harsh featured, craggy and chiseled like the side of an asteroid, and he’s tattooed up his arms and neck. He makes no effort to hide the OPA tattoos.

He’s a thug, plain and simple. He relies on that in his position, and has a few operations officers who do his dirty work, should he feel the need.

"Oye, Coyo!" he calls out as Lobos enters. "Mi pochuye ere da sample. Ta tenye fo pochuye da setóriye wit mi ong orejas."

He puts the weight down. He may be a Belter but he has no lack of muscle strength.

"Beratna! Du to keng keting deting im, ke? Im da Belte's tim," he says, jabbing his index and middle finger at Lobos’ handheld. He’s sure of it, and he’s clearly sure Lobos will have his back. "Im keting Inyalowda sheru wa wow ere. Unte Erosh. Pensa, beratna! Keting im ta kang bi worth. Keting kowmang deng fo du fo."

He was already thinking this, but what Lobos showed him confirmed it. A dark site after an unrecognized material in an ice chunk. He thinks this is what the solar system is tearing itself apart over. Something dangerous. Something valuable.

Mitchell’s typically a pretty open book. He craves unchallenged power, Lobos’ has known plenty of people like him, from the Inner system to the Outer planets.

His intonation is low, conspiratorial, calculating, but persuading. He believes what he’s saying. He’s playing to Lobos’ feelings for the Belt, even if he doesn’t realize his own manipulation, because he clearly wants Lobos to be part of whatever he’s planning. Unsurprisingly, between the permanent scowl, the hungry twist of wrinkles around his mouth as he smiles, the lack of emotion behind his cold gray eyes, Mitchell is a man without a shred of empathy. He’d sell out the crew in a second if he felt he could get ahead. He’s exactly the kind of man who’d float the idea of mutiny to someone he sees as a brother in arms.

Stunt Modification:

7 | MY WORD IS MY BOND: Applies to a test relevant to completing a task you’ve promised someone you have a Relationship with you’ll perform. Gain +2 to tests directly related to completing this task until the end of the session. This stunt requires bonus SP available from a Relationship in order to meet the necessary cost.

8 | A PROMISE ONCE GIVEN: Applies to a test relevant to completing a task you’ve promised someone you have a Relationship with you'll perform, only you have no intention of doing so. Gain +2 to tests directly related to sabotaging this task until the end of the session. This stunt requires bonus SP available from a Relationship in order to meet the necessary cost.

Mitchell smiles, "Bi gútegow fo anyting, beratna. Strange tim ere da system."

Mitchell gets up from the machine and heads over to his coat. He reaches into the pile and grabs a shoulder holster with a pistol strapped in, securing that before putting on his coat. Even if it’s not protocol he’s licensed to carry a firearm. Normally it is to discourage bad behaviour… like mutiny.

He bids Lobos a hearty good day on his way out as he pulls on his coat. Saveen walks past, surprised to see the XO at this time.

Once the XO is gone Saveen turns to Lobos, an amused look on his face. Saveen’s a lovely guy, but a little dense. "Kowlting okay, kopeng?"

He speaks in a lighter, slightly more refined series accent, but Lobos knows–and has heard repeatedly–that he comes from a proudly Indian-Martian family, a lineage he can describe all the way back to the Maharshta-Karnataka-Goa Communal Interest Zone on Earth before the Patel migration out into the system.

Olivera turns to the comms and begins keying in commands.The comms officer is starting to look a little nervous, but he keeps his voice low, "Sir… I’m not getting much. The ship is showing no significant damage, external or internal. If their transponder’s broken, I’m not seeing any reason why…"

Zaki’s tense in his chair, but like a predator preparing to spring. He, too, keeps his voice low, practically spitting through gritted teeth, "Imalowda ere wa direct intercept course. Even if da Bounty burn hot, maye wang, tu ora."

"Should I attempt to hail them, sir?" Olivera asks. He wipes his brow.

"I… I…" Olivera runs an automatic comms scramble, but anything more advanced than a repair skiff OS could fend off corporate cyber warfare software that’s hasn’t been updated in three decades.

"Aye! Let mi, dzhemang!" Zaki opens a blank command line interface to comms and begins keying in commands."Transponder mask, bosmang. Ah na," Zaki tsks cheekily, continuing to type away, "pirata tenye na update imalowda remote engine override systems ere wa teng anyiye."

Meanwhile, Saveen’s response comes back from engineering, surprised at being contacted, glancing around nervously at the blue light.

"Ke?!" Saveen rubs his forehead. "Hoo boyo… we could burn hard, go up to 3-G level speeds for a bit, bosmang. She’ll rattle, but da Bounty will hold."

That might be hard on some of the Belters, and very uncomfortable for everyone else. Anyone with a brain would be on their crash couches in blue alert.

Zaki nods at what Saveen says from the helm, continuing to type away on the command line. "Imalowda fire ere da Bounty, mi ta kang use speed fo evade. But Pampa," he says, scowling in resignation, "that na race milowda kang sémpere win. Na da Bounty."

Olivera’s voice has a panicked tone, and the nav officer is muttering a prayer. "Are you crazy?! We’re an ice hauler! We let them board and hope they just ask for protection, maybe top up their water and air! They have fucking torpedos, sir!"

"Aha!" Zaki calls out. The pirate ship starts to fall back. "Pirata engine off. Deting bera xalte imalowda fo wa wamali tim, Pampa. Wamang bera mowteng fo manually restart engine."

The Bounty’s comms array begins emitting rapid radio bursts directed at the transponderless ship, overwhelming their ship sensors, hopefully even causing an electrical fire if the system runs too hot. They’ll need to contain any damage, reroute and reboot the systems. It’ll give a few minutes of confusion as the radio bursts communicate that the Bounty is going in multiple directions simultaneously.

Zaki is confirming a cut to the engines to play dead, when Captain Reyes steps onto the deck, the XO right behind her. Reyes looks tense, and Mitchell is scowling. Lobos can easily spot the holster the XO put on earlier.

"Belay that order, Mr. Saveen," the captain snaps at the bridge crew. "Matar, give crew the warning that we’re cutting engines."

"Oh thank fuck," Olivera mutters to himself, sagging in his chair. Zaki looks furious, but he goes still and quiet the second Mitchell steps on the deck, like a cornered animal.

Reyes turns to the Lobos, the XO standing over her shoulder. She sounds both impressed and exhausted, "Thank you, Mr. Lobos, but I saw your report. This isn’t a fight we can win."

As Zaki begins the process of spooling down the engine in a cold fury, Captain Reyes strides past Lobos, shaking her head. She walks over to Olivera, looking at the information he has on his terminal, and has him open a channel to the vessel.

"Unidentified vessel, this is Captain Reyes of the ice hauler Abzu’s Bounty. It appears your transponder is inactive, please provide an explanation and transmit your flight plan immediately."

She waits about ten seconds, the bridge holding their breaths in anticipation. She looks at Olivera, but he shakes his head.

Reyes turns on Lobos, "What the hell were you thinking?! A cyber attack on an unidentified vessel? What if they’re Martian?! We just attacked them!"

Zaki shoots Lobos a scowl. He clearly thinks they were in the right.

Reyes opens her mouth, shuts it, opens it again and then turns in frustration back to Olivera.

"Open the channel again. Unidentified vessel, this is-–"

"Captain…" Olivera checks his screen and then leans back, wiping at his brow. "They must be jamming our transmissions, we-–"

As if in response, a transmission comes through from the unidentified vessel, a Belter woman’s voice modulated by interference. She does not sound happy. "Abzu’s Bounty, cut engines and prepare to be boarded. This is your only warning."

Olivera’s voice quavers as he says, "They have a target lock on us, Captain…"

She snaps her fingers at Zaki, who cuts the engine, and the crew suddenly feel the effects of weightlessness, the beep and clunk of a dozen pairs of mag boots connecting with the deck. The captain is bracing herself against the comms terminal, her knuckles white where she’s gripping the display. She waves her hand and a holo of the local system comes up. The transponderless vessel is on a direct intercept course.

"Fine, you want to get shot so badly?" she snaps, heading over to the command terminal where she starts keying in commands. "Lobos, Mitchell, take a couple of people authorized to use small arms to the main airlock. Defensive measures only, we just need to get this over with. Find out what they want and give it to them. No heroics."

The main airlock is on level 03, two levels down. She pulls up the personnel file and assigns Hinkley, the blond, broad-shouldered Earther and a Belter laborer named Cas to report to retrieve their weapons from the equipment room and report to the airlock immediately.

Reyes nods, watching the holo on the command terminal as the unidentified ship inches closer. "Any luck, we all get out of this alive."

Lobos soars through the ladder tube, occasionally reaching out and slapping a rung to give himself a boost of momentum or course correction. He could do this in his PHEG, he has, many times.

He pulls the door open and sees Hinkley and Cas, his backup, checking their pistols in the equipment room. They look up as he soars over.

"What’s going on, sir?" Hinkley asks, his face set. He’s prepared to accept orders.

Cas, the Belter, shakes his head and mutters to himself as he slides his pistol into his holster. "Hazard pay na worth this kaka falota."

Hinkley takes a deep breath, exhales and then nods at Lobos. "What have you got in mind?"

The hangar bay doors open to the void of space, distant Saturn the nearest point of reference in the star-dotted black.

The Lahmu’s thrusters nudge it out of the hangar, and Zaki maneuvers the skiff to the airlock, quickly connecting and allowing the three men to board. He uncouples the skiff and pushes off before Hinkley and Cas have found their crash seats. Lobos, in his PHEG, merely needs to magnetically brace himself between the ceiling and floor.

"Buckle up, beratnas. Lahmu thrustas only, gonya ge bumpy if imalowda spot us, but mi bring milowda in hush hush."

The pilot keeps the Bounty between the skiff and the pirate ship, speeding along the hull. He waits until the Lahmu is equidistant around the Bounty before he begins to take it around to connect with the pirate ship.The distance closes as the repair skiff skirts around the Bounty. As the skiff comes out of the shadow of the Bounty, the pirate’s modified freighter looms on the monitors ahead. The words "ANNE BONNY" are visible under display lights in large yellow letters against the black paint job.

The Anne Bonny, the ship Lobos heard was flying a pirate flag under the command of Captain Claire O’Rourke, a longtime associate and brief flame of Pampa Coyo.

Claire O’Rourke is a Belter woman from a large Ceres family who’s always been proud of their mixed Irish heritage. Claire had an Old World saying from her father, "luck fo da Irish", which defined her life. Claire’s always been the kind of person who things just seem to work out for. She got a job as a dockside inspector for the Earth-Mars Coalition Navy’s logistics division on Ceres through an uncle, a position easily exploited for someone with ties to the OPA. By the time the coalition caught on to repeated logistical diversions O’Rourke was long gone, signing on as a hired gun with a security firm escorting merchant vessels in high-piracy areas of the Outer Planets. This led to further opportunities to shake down vessels who made the mistake of not hiring their services.

She met Lobos during this period–she affectionately nicknamed him "Blue" after his military background–since her outfit increasingly turned to piracy–the lean years of Earth-Mars cooperation drove the system's fringers further outward looking for the next score. Despite… maybe because of her line of work, Lobos saw something of a kindred soul in her. She had a loose but honorable moral code, and it meant watching the backs of her crew members, and solidarity with her fellow Belters against the tyranny of the Inners. If O’Rourke lined her own pockets in the process, all the better.

They had a night on Europa where a great deal of Belter moonshine was had, a room with a view of the domed greenhouses was rented, which ended in the old "what life could be like" talk. Claire admitted she was attracted to Lobos, but that she wasn’t a settle-down type, and that settled that. He later heard rumors that she had lucked into command of her own ship and was privateering in the Outer Planets, which sounded like just the sort of thing Claire would do.

Clearly those rumors are true.

The Anne Bonny is clearly a fairly new but standard civilian-designed freighter ship. She’s boxy, the segmented engineering levels almost squat over the quad rockets, which would make her a speedy, highly maneuverable little lady. Above the two main airlocks on the ship’s midsection the Bonny tapers up to the arrays on the tip. While her original specs were for a Grendel-class freighter, about the size of a Martian or UN light frigate, she’s clearly had some work done. A standard network of PDC mounts have been installed, along with a dual torpedo tube affixed to the upper section. The black highlighted with deep, rich goldenrod paint job gives her a hornet look, aggressive, packing a sting.

Zaki hisses as the meters close to feet. "Imalowda see da Lahmu, target lock! Na, keting da--"

Lobos watches on his HUD along with Zaki on the shipboard system as the Anne Bonny finishes retracting their docking bridge and begins to push off with thrusters. The target lock holds the Lahmu for a moment, clearly scanning the repair skiff, before switching… to the Bounty. Zaki swears from above.

"What?! What’s happening?!" Hinkley calls out, terror gripping his voice.

"Zaki! Wagwan?!" Cas calls out. Zaki and Lobos already know exactly what’s about to happen.

The Bonny’s rockets light up and the ship begins to blaze away from the ice hauler. Zaki has just enough momentum to keep up for a few seconds.

"Imalowda target da Bounty! Xalte ere! Hold on!"

"Na! NA! NABI!" Cas screams as the skiff pitches to the side, throwing the men in their EVA suits hard against their restraints.The Lahmu slams into the side of the pirate ship, and there’s a horrible screeching sound as the claws and welding tools dig into the hull of the moving ship; an improvised graft, and the repair skiff holds on for dear life, rattling hard against the Bonny’s hull.

Even Lobos, in his advanced armor, can feel the discomfort of a very rough acceleration to maybe two or three Gs of force, not helped at all by the Lahmu’s precarious clinging to an accelerating ship. Gideon and Cas are both gasping for breath, and Zaki cries out in pain from above in the cockpit.

Even as the G-force eases up somewhat another force rocks the ship… That wasn’t acceleration or a course adjustment, but an explosion… and an impact! That’s when Lobos hears a high-pitched roaring noise that makes his blood run cold even as a powerful wind pulls at the few loose materials in the hold. His eyes follow the paths of swirling dust and small debris visible through the suit’s HUD, towards the fist-sized hole in the bulkhead in the corner near the airlock, the atmosphere rushing out. If the Lahmu bleeds out all the atmosphere all they’ll have is the oxygen on their backs, and Zaki’s only in a light VAC suit, it's unclear exactly how much oxygen he has.

Zaki’s been in minor breaches before-although this one may be worse and in more dire circumstances. The second he blinks at the spots in his eye from the flash on the monitor–and realizes he’s not breathing, taking a slap to his chest to remind himself to get some ereluf–his hand flies to the emergency sealant compartment, standard location on every skiff. The large foam can snaps off of the kit, and Zaki unbuckles himself and kicks off backwards out of the seat.Zaki glances over and sees Hinkley, eyes gone wide. "Oye! Eartha! Just like me!"

Hinkley realizes he needs to act, but glances over at Cas. He hangs limp, limbs pulled towards the breach punched smooth by the commanding officer. Seal the breach first, then assess everyone’s health. Assuming they weren’t brutally murdered by the pirates like… like…

"Oye! Move! Xitim!"

Zaki makes zero-G look effortless. Hinkley takes a steadying breath as his gloved hands fumble for the latch on his seat’s straps.Hinkley’s getting the hang of this, and seeing the way Zaki moves through the compartment helps. Hinkley soars through the air without overshooting his target, lands on all fours against the wall and easily cracks open the compartment to grab a patch, calling to Lobos, "Cas is out, sir! Might be unconscious!"

He leaps over to where Zaki is waiting with the foam, with Lobos’ high tech shell looming over them. Hinkley slaps the patch over the almost perfect circle Lobos had created, the worst of the roar of escaping atmosphere muted into a hiss.Zaki wields the foam like a weapon, four precise strokes of sealant and the hissing stops entirely. Zaki slaps Hinkley’s helmet affectionately and scrambles back up to the cockpit to see how long the grip will hold.

"O-orders, sir?" Hinkley asks, crawl-jumping back over to Cas to see if he was injured in the explosion or puncture.

At that moment, a message notification pings in Lobos’ helmet. On a squad frequency he hasn’t used in years. The recording is direct from Claire O’Rourke, a golden-blonde Belter woman with sharp brown eyes, a circuitry-styled tattoo over her right eyebrow. "Blue… Coyo… Caiden," her voice is quiet, almost whispering as she seems to lean over her handheld. "If that im really you and na ówala that slit your throat in your sleep, dock da skiff wit da Bonny and you and da other survivors might live, mi can talk to da crew. You and mi can talk about this. Fodagut, you know this just wa job. Mi glad you survive. That what you du," she adds affectionately, smiling. "O'Rourke out."

Zaki floats down from the cockpit as Lobos explains their situation. Zaki’s face is scrunched up in rage, eyes downcast. At the mention of the disparate political group he spits, the globule sailing down and bouncing off the grating against the bulkhead, muttering, "OPA…"

Hinkley falls back and slides down the wall into a sitting position, hands on the back of his neck. "Sir, we’re the only ones who know what happened to the Bounty," he says, struggling to put his thoughts together. "We die, we never find out what happened, or why."

"Eartha pensa im special fo im Inyalowda," Zaki snarls, eyes still down on the metal grating against the bulkhead, he switches closer to English, his Ceres accent thick and emotive. "Pirata might shoot us just to watch us die. Not everyone saint like you."

"I’m not selfless by any means, sir," Hinkley says, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously, freaked by Zaki’s needling. "I choose any opportunity where we might survive. I want to live."

Hinkley helps Cas to his feet, the Belter moves slow and automatically, a hollow look in his eyes. Hinkley puts the Belters arm over his shoulder and his own around Cas’ waist to guide him. The three step up to the airlock behind Lobos, no one saying a word. Waiting for what’s next.

The airlock hisses open, and five people stand on the other side, Claire O’Rourke in the centre of them, with a tall, dark-haired woman–probably an Inner based on her build and the fact that she doesn’t have tattoos–standing at her shoulder.

Claire is just the way Lobos remembers, short, golden-blonde hair that doesn’t come down past her ears, inquisitive dark-brown eyes, a sharp-eyed pirate beauty. Although her face is more lined, which is new, and she isn’t giving her usual easy, charming smile that’s gotten her through a harsh life in the outer system. The circuitry tattoo above her eye is new, as is the stylized circlet tattoo around her neck. When the pirates notice the power armour the other three go for their pistols, but Claire anticipates and holds her arm up, signing for them to stop. "Any of you touch your guns, mi put you out da bap kuxaku miself."

She makes eye contact with Lobos and an expression of recognition and something else passes over her face, but drops back to a stoney stare. "Nem mi Claire O’Rourke. You prisoners fo da Anne Bonny. If you cooperate milowda can discuss release at a safe port. If you disarm, milowda give you four wa room, fut and owkwa, and na one else det, ke?"

The tall, dark-haired woman nods, but the other three pirates exchange an uncertain look. Hinkley slowly takes both his and then Cas’ sidearms, putting them down and nudging them toward the pirates. They skitter across the hold's deck in zero-G until two of the pirates snatch them.

Zaki steps forward, his hands up, eyes still downcast, Claire looks at Lobos expectantly.

Files flick in front of Lobos’ eyes in rapid succession through the suit’s UI: Comms Officer// Tulsi Sharma

From the brief compiled by the suit’s administrative interface, Sharma is listed as a Martian from Dhanbad Nova, served on the MCRN Donnager, listed as a deserter, previously served as comms officer on a freighter named the Anne Marie under Captain Ephrem Guan, rechristened the Anne Bonny by Captain Claire O’Rourke after Guan’s death. Logs by O’Rourke mention Sharma positively, expertise and friendship. Recent security clip of them arguing from ops on Level 2, time-stamped moments before the destruction of Abzu’s Bounty.

As his eyes flick through the information synthesized from the ship logs and payroll, Claire signs to the other pirates to take Hinkley, Cas and Zaki to a room. The pirates usher the three prisoners to a ladder in the middle of the hold, one pirate goes ahead, climbing upwards and telling the others to follow up two levels. Cas finally stumbles away from Hinkley and begins to climb up the ladder, the same trancelike movement. Hinkley climbs up after him, followed by Zaki. The young Belter pilot, just before disappearing through the ladder hatch, shoots Lobos a betrayed look. Clearly he thinks the survivor’s are about to be sold out by pirate Pampa Coyo.

After a moment it’s just Claire, Lobos and the Martian. Claire realizes they’re not alone and turns to Sharma.

"Sésata, mi gonya bi up in a minute, get things ready to burn, ke?"

Sharma nods, shooting a quick glance at Lobos, "Yes ma’am."

She leaps up the ladder and disappears above. Claire sighs and turns back around. "Mi ta kang ge used fo Inyalowda call mi ma'am."

The Anne Bonny’s captain turns back to Lobos, an apologetic look on her face. "Been a long time, Blue."

"Like I say in my message, it just a job," Claire says, eyes glancing away from Lobos. A mix of guilt and… well, Lobos knows better than anyone that it’s easier when you can pull the trigger and turn away. Move forward. The fact that Lobos is standing in front of her is making her look back, both on their relationship and what she just did to the Bounty.

Regret.

There’s something else, the suit picks up on it. Elevated heart rate, above baseline levels of adrenaline, cortisol and other stress hormones. Claire was someone who never let things get to her, she rolled with the punches. There was the Inner saying about water off a duck's back...

Claire pulls her hand away from Lobos and crosses her arms, leaning against the bulkhead. "Big contract, come through on tightbeam a few hours ago. We… lucky the Bonny was so close."

She shakes her head, "Secure sample in medical canister, eliminate crew. But na da worry, Blue. If your men cooperate no one else needs to die…"

She glances over at the airlock to the skiff, teasing but clearly serious, asking, "So what was you gonya do with deting? Fix us to det?"

He can tell she’s trying to feel his headspace out a little, she doesn’t comment on his demand to be part of the crew.

Claire studies the data in silence. She sighs, taking a few steps away, running a hand through her hair, her back to Lobos, swearing under her breath.

"You right, Blue," she says, turning back around. "This Inya kaka… listen, the credits on this deal…"

She seems to be struggling with exactly how much to share. She takes a slow, deep breath, she’s clearly shaken by all of this, and she doesn’t have the excuse of losing her entire crew. If Claire O’Rourke is nervous about something there’s good reason to be.

"Blue, this too big," she drops her voice, leaning in close. Lobos recognizes Claire’s ‘I have a plan’ voice. "If wamang pay to blow up ice haulers for… whatever this bi, imagine what else imalowda du fo im… Imagine what wamang might pay fo im."

The sample. Whatever it is. Whatever it represents.

Claire reaches out for the underside of Lobos’ wrist, taking it in hers, practically whispering. He feels the warmth of her palm, the claminess from her nerves, through the galium interface. "Mi ta ge wa OPA contact on Prometheus. Imalowda match the original contract, with a ten percent increase bid. Mi wanya ge da sample na ere da Bonny, fash. What if milowda cut your people in, Blue? You give milowda protection, da buyer have any questions… mi know you on da extraction team from the Bounty’s files… Mi sorry if you have friends on the ice hauler, but this kind of money, Blue… the fact that you here… maybe im wa sign, what we talk about back on Europa…"

She looks down at his armoured wrist, held delicately in her pale, calloused, scarred hand.The moon is a relatively obscure destination in the Saturn system, Lobos has been there before. Prometheus is one of the planet’s inner moons, orbiting just inside Saturn’s ring system. An elongated potato-shaped mass of ice and rock some 135 kilometres across, Prometheus is the site of a small mining and ice-processing station. It has facilities for docking a small number of ships, but otherwise sees little traffic. The permanent inhabitants on the station are all local workers and their families, and there’s a limited transient population. It’s the sort of place only for ice miners and water haulers, a regular ship stops for a top up of expensive air and cheap water on a longer journey.

That means fixers and pirates use it as a discrete neutral space to conduct business out of sight from the major powers and corporations.

2 | ON THE FENCE: Choose a character you didn’t target who’s Standoffish, Neutral, or Open toward you. They’re convinced to take your side in the conflict, as long as they don’t already oppose you (Simple); shift their Attitude toward you up by one for the rest of the encounter (Detailed).

Claire drops her eyes, face flushing a little, trying to hide her smile. If Lobos told someone about this side of Claire no one who knew her would ever believe him. Would she drunkenly proclaim her love for her crew and those who fought loyally alongside her? Absolutely. Would she do tribute with the first station her ship lands on after a good haul, sharing the bounty among Beltalowda? Absolutely. Would she blush like the proverbial schoolgirl? Anyone who knew Claire would think that’s loco.

As she leads Lobos to the ladder to climb up to the crew quarters, she glances back, a mischievous look in her eyes, "We make the tradeoff on Prometheus, burn to Tycho, sell da Bonny, split it all, drink until we go down, then… Maye to unte mi take deting trip fo Titan, xitim. Vedi da solar winds. Natim ge kuku fo bed."

Claire and Lobos climb up to the second level, and they can hear Zaki’s voice, hoarse and angry, coming from the room to the left of the ladder.

"Oye ówalas. Lemme kuku unte patch da Lahmu gut, unless to wanya im fo depressurize unte tear da side fo to kapawu na ere," the pilot snarls like an animal from inside the room, pounding on the door. Two of the pirates stand outside, looking annoyed. "Sili to pensa mi na kang ge kuku, to forget dewe mi ando pashang to kapawu fong wa ice hauler."Claire snorts as she climbs onto the landing outside the room. Aside from standard crash couches against one wall, there are three doors to the left, right and directly ahead of the ladder. She steps up to the door and waves her hand to unlock it. Zaki stumbles slightly, and scowls up at Claire. Like most people she has a good head on him.

"Mi know this setara mali. Zaki Matar, Erosh-Serí, ke?" she says, both patronizing and impressed. "Mi should have guessed im na just Lobos’ who would attack wa kapawu pirata from wa ice hauler."

Zaki doesn’t even look up to meet her eyes, or Lobos’. Claire signs to the guards that Zaki has two hours, and one of the pirates gives her a disgusted look before nudging Zaki towards the ladder. He scrambles down followed by the pirate. Claire looks to Lobos to say, an affectionate tone, "Da kid be safe. Im ta kom wit da xélixup Pampa Coyo, ke?"

She steps into the room left from the ladder. Hinkley is sitting on the ground beside the lower bunk and looks up, pale and anxious.

"Wamotim, mi gonya lock da bap… the door," she says pointedly to Hinkley. Claire turns to Lobos, dropping her voice again. "Stay ere xiya Blue, fodagut. Da crew nervous ere da armor. Mi ta showxa imalowda should bi, amash mi sasa to Beltalowda."

Lobos gets the sense Claire would lean in for a kiss if she could, just like old times, but she just nods and heads out the door, which swishes shut behind her.

The room is sizable, a little less than one and a half meters to the bulkhead and two meters long. There are two bunks opposite the door. Multipurpose, they could be converted to storage or even other work areas. To the left of the door is the head, roomier than Lobos is used to, a toilet and shower. There’s another locked door to the right, leading into more bunk rooms. This is definitely a communal ship, Lobos would guess a standard crew of around 8; from the welcoming party Lobos guessed it would be about a dozen people, so they were able to spare a room.

Not long after Claire leaves, the captain sounds a general call for the crew to prepare for a brisk 1G force burn. Lobos guesses from their current position it’ll be about 24 hours to Prometheus at that speed.

Lobos can check on Zaki through the shipboard systems; he has access to public cameras. Or else through his suit’s thermal sensors. He sees the pilot is moving freely about the Lahmu in his vac suit with a guard standing in the airlock, just waiting.

After about 24 hours since the destruction of the Bounty, the Anne Bonny switches to thrusters and eases into the Saturnian inner satellite Prometheus. Saturn looms behind it, both the rings and the planet an impossible expanse to put to scale.

From a distance the pockmarked, elongated moon is distinctly potato shaped. Prometheus is a backwater even in a backwater planetary system. Prometheus is little more than a small ice mining station. Prometheus is a waystation for the occasional freighter or science vessel, or else rockhoppers working Saturn’s rings for ice water hauls. A place to get top ups of cheap water and prohibitively expensive air. It was never a priority to spin up, so the few permanent inhabitants will be born into and die in microgravity.

Once the Bonny is docked with about a half-dozen other ships in a rough-hewn dock built right into the ice, Claire goes over the plan with the crew, already suited up. The pirates are dressed in street clothes but are all concealing weapons. Claire and four pirates–-Lobos notices Sharma, the only non-Belter crew member and confidant of Claire’s, is among them–-along with Hinkley and Cas will meet with the buyer, Hector Cruz, leader of a splinter faction of the Jovian Collective, a militant but minor arm of the OPA in the Outers, in an old work tunnel cut into the moon. Claire and Lobos are familiar with Hector, he’s a blowhard radical, but an honourable blowhard radical at least. He could have the money he promised, so Claire will confirm that while the sample stays under heavy guard in the Bonny’s cargo hold. She doesn’t expect any trouble–-Prometheus is hardly big enough that bands of roving pirates could go unnoticed, and there’s a decent security firm presence. In case Hector’s people try anything, Lobos will be waiting at a service airlock nearby in the skiff. Payment comes through, Hector and two of his people come back to the Bonny, take the sample, everyone walks away happy.

Claire makes Lobos promise he'll only engage if there's trouble. She wants to just get the whole Bounty affair over with, but she thinks it's smart to have backup since a group of pirates will be remaining on the Bonny to guard the sample. Claire insists that Hinkley and Cas come with her to the meetup. Hinkley was part of the work detail that extracted the sample. Also, Zaki, Hinkley and Cas are technically still prisoners, and the pirates aren't happy about the fact that they even took survivors. Lobos learned pretty early on after coming aboard the Bonny that it wasn't part of the plan.

*

The Lahmu slips out of the dock. Zaki receives a message in the cockpit. "Repair sekiff, keting to du, ke?"

"Na im gut, kopeng!" Zaki responds cheerfully. "Mi pampa dzhemang foget im tools ere da náterash. Mi go ge im."

A beat. "Taki taki, sekiff. Tenye wa tim gut."

Claire had paid him off. It wasn’t unusual for a skiff to make a pickup from a discrete crater. As long as things stayed quiet none were the wiser.

Zaki followed an old ice mining line not too far from the docks and gently put down a few feet to the left of the door. A gentle lurch and all is still. "Milowda gut, pampa."

*

Claire, Hinkley, Cas, Sharma and the other four pirates take a little used service exit from the docks and head down an old mine converted into a makeshift emergency shelter for the station’s inhabitants. Little more than mining tunnels with air.

"All gut on da ground," Claire says into her ear piece. "Message from Hector that they’re coming in from the station. Im kowl gut."

Within the hour of docking, Zaki had Prometheus’ entire security system slaved to the Lahmu.

"Im na da impressive, Pampa," he said a little bashfully. "Inyalowda corp na update Prometheush OS ere wa lowng tim. Mi ta kang du xidawang fong wa owkwa kaka machine."

They were able to keep an eye on Hector and his people, practically uninterrupted, all day. There wasn’t much to see. They mostly sat drinking at the station’s one canteen. The OPA ship, a modest little rockhopper, arrived not long after the Bonny docked and other than a couple of Belters coming and going while they got a water top up, they didn’t get up to much. Zaki and the Bonny monitored the space around Prometheus. Other than two independent Belter rockhoppers in for a water and air top up, the hours since they arrived on the minor moon are quiet.

Zaki and Lobos watch the proceedings from the Lahmu, parked just outside of the service airlock from the early days, when Prometheus was just a place Belters scraped up some water on a long haul. Claire gathers her cadre and heads through the docks, down onto the small public promenade. Simultaneously, Hector and five of the largest of his OPA thugs peel off from the group at the canteen, who start settling up the tab. Both groups head for the same old water mining tunnel from different ends of the station.

"Señor Pesimista," Claire teases into her earpiece, direct to Lobos. "Na du worry Blue, mi ta ge xidawang."

Lobos had kept his eye on the Inner woman throughout the prep, but she seemed to be working seamlessly with the crew, oftentimes directly with Claire, comms and logistics. Sharma and Claire had a good rapport. Claire laughed off any suspicions about her, Sharma was straight with her, she claimed. "Gutmang."

They watch as Claire and Sharma head in first, followed by Cas, slouched and loping, with Hinkley beside him, alert, cool but clearly ready for trouble, with two more pirates behind them.

Inside of the tunnels the security feed is poor, the ancient low res cameras are only really meant to catch Belter kids sneaking in and making out. The ancient crags of the old, dark and dirty tunnels, the occasional busted light, they could make out the meeting as dark blobs. The audio, on the other hand, is crisp.

"Hector," Claire drawls at the juncture where the two meet.

"Claire, mi setara mali," Hector purrs back at her. "Milowda gonya fo ge wa drink ye, ke?"

"Na da diye xiya," Claire sighs back, exasperated. "Bera business."

She sounds cool and in control as Hector sighs and brags at his people about some trouble he and Claire got up to back in the good old days. Typical posturing. Zaki sighs in boredom.

"Setara mali, depelésh to ge da tip? Bik dinaro!" Hector asks as they sync their handhelds to make the initial exchange. Half to be taken to the sample, the other half once they’ve walked away with it alive.

"Inside source, hush hush," Claire shoots back, but it’s a warning. He’s not paying for information. "Keting ere to?"

Hector rocks on his heels, probably beaming like an excited little boy. "Oh, bik tings afut, sésata. Bik mang ere da OPA."

"Milowda ge im!" Zaki groans from the Lahmu’s cockpit. "To falotawala Anderson Dawes. Gut maliboy, go back fo Ceresh, sabaka!"

He keeps muttering to himself in annoyance.

Hector points to Hinkley and Cas, "Imalowda fong da kapawu?"

He doesn’t seem happy about that, and Claire starts to make the case that Hector takes them, alive, back to the OPA, unharmed. They could pay him on the other end, and it would be doing a favour for Claire. Maybe the OPA could use them?

"Pampa!" Zaki cries from the cockpit, frantically keying in on the security terminal. "Mi think mi see something! Amash... Im na kang bi wa kapawu! Mi na see anything on da scopes!"

Zaki’s pointing to a dark section of space just above the station from an exterior camera. Lobos thinks he sees something like the shape of a ship, but as dark as the space behind it. The only thing that makes it noticeable is the sudden absence of stars.

Zaki’s heart starts racing, the blood pounding in his ears as he closes the airlock behind Lobos and starts flipping through the station’s security feeds, looking for anything. If he’s going to try anything he needs to actually find the ship and see if it’s interfacing with any of Prometheus’ unsecure networks, of which there are many.

Okay Matar, he thinks. Tenye wa breath. To keng depelésh da lahmu unte depelésh to ta vedi imalowda ultim.

He pulls up a repair interface and starts triangulating the ambusher’s trajectory.He flips through the security feeds, but there’s nothing there. Was Lobos right? Martian stealth tech? Everyone’s heard about it, but if that’s what this is the ship’s practically invisible.

"Pashang..."

*

Claire and Hector are bickering over what to do with Hinkley and Cas when her handheld, still clutched in front of her, pings silently from Lobos. She glances down, her eyes narrow and she looks up at Hector.

"Deal na ere," she snarls, her head snapping back and forth, eyes darting around the corridors.

"To pagal, ke?" Hector takes a couple of steps back away from her, his hand going to his pistol…

… when Lobos sails through the ether and smashes into him. The axe kick sends Hector reeling, droplets of blood ribboning out of his nose, spinning into little scarlet globules that fly wide. Lobos pins Hector in front of him easily, and the pirates all draw their weapons, everyone except for Sharma, Hinkley and Cas–the latter two both unarmed.

Sharma takes a couple of steps forward, holding up her hands. "Im kowl gut, kowmang. Let’s–"

Her head snaps to the left, down the darkened corridor, and she spins around and leaps towards Claire. "Get down!"

Hinkley turns to grab Cas, but the Belter spins around and attacks one of their pirate escorts, bare handed. The Belter is in a frenzy, snarling like an animal and the pirate simply has to hold up his arm to fend off the attack, fumbling for his own weapon.

"Oh crap," Hinkley mutters as the pirate Cas is attacking swears in surprise. His training kicks in and he drops low, rushing towards Cas to try and pull him off and take cover. "Lobos! Behind you!"Then things explode into utter chaos.

The ambushers appear at the mouth of the darkened hallway to the west, opening fire, a spray of small arm fire. They sail silently down the dark hall and take positions in the tunnel mouth, magnetizing themselves to the metal grating laid down over the ice and rock. Lobos’ HUD reads five attackers, well outfitted in flat-black security armor VAC suits, with thrusters, like him. These are clearly professionals. Two in front with standard zero-G assault rifles acting as their spear, three behind them laying down suppressing pistol fire.Lobos feels stinging pops against his armor as the PHEG registers rifle fire coming from behind him, down the west tunnel. Hector falls limp crushed against him, small globules of blood leaking from fresh holes in his torso and legs, torn up by the rifle fire meant for the power-armored man. Lobos hears Claire cry out as a bullet wings her, but she’s still up and moving, no sign of injury. Luck of the Irish. Hinkley as well, rushing over to Cas, gets nicked in the calf, but doesn’t seem injured. One of the OPA thugs, however, is not so lucky, blood blossoming out from a hip wound.

"Hector det!" one of the pirates cries out, barely audible over the noise.

"Pashang!" Claire cries, ducking behind a wall with Sharma and drawing her pistol. "Kill imalowda!"

Claire fires at the ambushers, aiming for one of the attackers with a rifle, while her backup follows suit. The man being attacked by Cas draws his pistol and attempts to clock the Belter across the face as Hinkley tries to wrestle Cas away to safety.

Hector’s OPA crew, on the other hand, have drawn their pistols and are firing indiscriminately, trying to take down anyone in sight, crying to one another that they’ve been set up.The tunnels echo with the exchange of small arm fire, utter chaos. Claire and Sharma are pinned down in a small nook in the ice wall, Claire attempting to return fire against the ambushers, while the other pirates, both on her side and the OPA, seem to shoot at whoever they can see. Cas gets hit with the butt of the Bonny pirate’s pistol, a sickening crunch as his nose is bloodied and he stumbles away, although Hinkley manages to fend off some the attack as the pirate tries to batter his attacker. Small spheres of blood start to fill the hall, splattering on the walls in every direction.*

All Zaki can see from the security feed are small pops of light and a mad scramble of figures. The audio has gone fuzzy with the sound of weapons fire and screaming.

"Anne Bonny, Anne Bonny, Lahmu xiya, ground team under attack," Zaki’s flipping through the security feeds, checking the station’s airlock logs. He can see which airlock the ambushers entered through, but all he can see outside it is the dusty surface of Prometheus.

"Pashang!" he growls through gritted teeth. "Anne Bonny, Anne Bonny, ground team under attack, respond fodagut!"

What can he do? He feels helpless just sitting there. Maybe he can give them a couple of extra minutes to get out of there, at least. He pulls up a feed to station security, glancing at a map of the tunnels. "Xep! Under attack ere tunnel faf! Xep! Fodagut!"Zaki’s voice cracks, he feels desperate, and station security’s confirmation means they believe him. Good, security is probably already on their way and, that’d give everyone an extra couple of minutes with the misdirection, and put security behind the ambushers. Zaki doesn’t want to get innocent Belters killed, even if they are bullying other Belters for an Earth corp, but he needs to give the others a fighting chance.

*

Sharma hunkers down besides Claire, glancing out around the corner. She draws a hefty combat knife from her boot, feels the weight in her hand, and whips it expertly at one of the rifle-wielding ambushers.Sharma watches the dagger stick into the shoulder pad of the attacker and wobble impotently, stopped by the armor.

"Fuck," she mutters as Claire reloads her pistol and prepares to fire.

Lobos charges the ambushers, machine pistol spraying back and forth as they attempt to take cover, make themselves as small a target as possible. The gun spits bullets strafing back and forth across the mouth of the tunnel.One of the ambushers wielding a rifle takes the worst of it–blood spatters out from his right arm, a chunk from his tricep that passed through and took a little with it, but even while his blood splatters the pitch black armor of his backup, he turns his gun back on the pirates.

Cas continues to struggle against Hinkley, thrashing wildly despite his bloodied nose, the bullets soaring around them and the pirate who’s aiming his pistol at him.Hinkley swings Cas around against the wall, putting himself between the pirate and the Belter. In one swift motion he grabs Cas’ collar, pushes him back, then pulls the Belter forward and brings his head into Cas’. Hard. Stars dance in Hinkley’s vision as he feels the Belter go still, pushing them both forward against the wall. When his vision stops popping with lights, Hinkley sees that Cas is standing stock still, arms floating, blood trickling out of his nose strangely in microgravity.

That, at least, gets the Bonny pirate focused on the real enemy. Now he just has to hope Cas doesn’t get hit by a stray bullet… and himself, Hinkley needs to get through this alive too. He pushes himself and Cas against the wall as best he can, shielding the two of them, his eyes darting around looking for a weapon.

One of the attackers with the rifle holds up an arm and motions at Lobos, directing the other rifle wielder to concentrate fire on that mass of power-armor that’s firing on them.While Lobos only feels the minor stings of bullets bouncing off the PHEG–the armor built to withstand much more than small arms fire–the others aren’t faring as well as the ambushers continue to lay down fire. Hinkley is pinned down, trying to protect Cas, his eyes searching desperately for a weapon. Claire leans out from cover slightly to assess the enemy’s location and is winged. Bad. She cries out and stumbles back into the nook, an explosion of bloody little globules leaking out of her side where her jumpsuit been torn and bloodied.

"Gush imalowda pashangwala!" she screams through gritted teeth. The OPA thugs, meanwhile, don’t seem to care who they’re firing at.Claire lines up a shot and takes down the wounded gunman, while one of her crew rushes to her defenses and gets a bullet into the stomach of the other riflemen, a steady stream of epithets out of his mouth.

The OPA thugs have hunkered down in their own tunnel, firing at anything that moves.

**

"Anne Bonny, Anne Bonny, Lahmu, respond," the pit of anxiety in Zaki’s stomach roils. The fact that the pirates aren’t responding or telling him to shut the fuck up gets his hackles up.

Zaki flips through the security feeds in the docks, trying to see if he can figure out what’s going on.Zaki watches it from the old, grainy docks cameras from a couple of different angles. Four black-armoured soldiers walk out of the Bonny carrying something large between them, easy because of the negligible gravity. They leap off the side of the docks and float out into the darkness of space.

"Stealth kapawu…" Zaki mutters to himself, disturbed by the sight of four people disappearing into nothingness. "Pashang…"

He curls up in the cockpit seat, listening to the shouts and gunfire on the other end. "Pashang…"

*

Sharma presses Claire against the wall of the tunnel as the Belter woman gasps in pain and shock, hands shaking as she struggles to reload her gun. She doesn’t seem confident, but she tries to staunch the flow of blood.Claire pushes her away, pressing a gun into Sharma’s hands, "Na! Xep milowda mang!"

Sharma steps around Claire, putting herself between the captain and the attackers as best she can.

Lobos’ fresh attack with his power-suited acrobatics tears through the wounded ambusher, who flips over backwards, slamming against the metal grating, a mess of torn up armor and viscera.

In the same mechanical, methodical way when the first ambusher dropped, one of the others moves forward and trades her pistol for the dead man’s rifle. Their helmets, tinted black from the outside, betray no fear or worry that the battle seems to be turning against them.Hinkley gasps as he feels a bullet tug at his Krystal Kleer jumpsuit leg, but when he looks down all he can see is a hole in the cloth. Small miracles, but he is not feeling good about his chances as Lobos, the attackers and the OPA trade fire, blasting chunks of ice and rock, globules of blood colouring the walls.

He practically hugs his body against Cas and pulls the Belter down into the jagged crevice, making them as small a target as they can for now. "I’ve got you, buddy," he whispers, his own voice oddly calm in his ears, barely audible over the raging battle. In spite of himself, he begins to whisper a prayer, eyes still glancing back and forth for a weapon. He’s going to get them through this. He’s not going to lose another crew member.

The three remaining attackers appear to recognize that standard weapons’ fire won’t win against Lobos, so they turn their guns on the others.Claire reels backwards against the tunnel wall, groaning in pain, clutching her stomach, as she takes a bullet straight to the gut.

With two of their numbers injured, adding to the clouds of bloody globules filling the tunnel, one of the OPA pirates, an older woman, starts to scream at the others to fall back. As the OPA fall back down the north tunnel they lose their line of sight on the dark armored soldiers, so their only targets are the Bonny’s crew and the Bounty’s survivors. Claire’s pirates realize she’s wounded and close around her, with Sharma crouched over Claire.One of the Bonny pirates is thrown backwards, bouncing down the hallway, bloody and limp, while the other one takes a bad hit in the shoulder."Zaki--" the spit of bullets is muted by Lobos’ armor over comms. "Shit is getting real down here."

Zaki’s head snaps up and his body unfurls. In one graceful motion he kicks up out of the pilot’s chair and pushes off the ceiling, down into the hold. He double checks his VAC suit, emblazoned with the Krystal Kleer logo, is good and he floats over to the airlock.

"Mi ge da emergency tube out, ready tu dust xosh," Zaki barks back at Lobos, his voice cracking as he fumbled with the airlock controls. He resisted the urge to ask if anyone is dead.

*

In spite of every fiber of muscle in his body trying to freeze him in place, Hinkley throws himself off of Cas, pushing off to grab the dead pirate’s pistol. He’s not going to die cowering.The pistol feels familiar in his hands. Hinkley extends his arms, lines up a shot on the closest gunner. He clocks a slight separation in the armor whenever the shooter lifts her arm. A simple squeeze and she stumbles sideways as he ducks back against the wall beside Cas.

"Lobos," Sharma’s voice comes over comms, the first time she’s directly addressed him. "Claire’s hit. Bad."

Her finger twitches on the trigger and the wall behind one of the riflemen explodes, showering them with dust. "Goddamnit! We need to get out of here!"

"Go!" Hinkley cries at Sharma as Zaki’s voice crackles in their earpieces, maneuvering Cas’ body low and sliding him across the floor, down the hallway. "I’ll cover you!"Hinkley fires off a few shots and sends one of the attackers stumbling clumsily sideways in their mag boots, just as Lobos collides into them, punching them once, again and continues to beat them until it isn’t clear what parts are their combat helmet and what’s the crown of their skull.

Sharma pushes Claire’s hand against the wound to keep pressure on it, even while the pirate fumbles with her handheld, gasping for breath. Sharma uses all of her strength in a hard kick off the wall as Lobos begins to bash in the head of one of the surviving attackers. She and Claire soar awkwardly alongside Cas, launching themselves away from the OPA fire.

The ambushers take Lobos turning their colleague’s head into space coolly. Almost simultaneously the two remaining attackers, one clutching a wound in their side, pull fresh pistols from off their hips and aim them at Lobos’ head.The bullets slam into the PHEG’s hood and face shield, crumple and float away harmlessly, kinetic absorption lowers the danger of ricocheting bullets. But he feels it even as a halo of crumpled real metal bullets float away without causing a nick on the armor.

The OPA thugs lay down cover fire as the surviving Bonny pirate scrambles for cover, but takes a bullet in the head that causes them to go limp and slap against the wall, more globes of blood splattering.

*Zaki hears the hissing seal of the emergency airlock between the Lahmu and the station’s old mining tunnel. He glances through the old, circular, scratched-up window, then wrestles the old manual release. If Lobos hadn’t already loosened the mechanism it would probably take more strength than Zaki has in his body.

As the crackle of Lobos calling for a retreat comes over the radio, Zaki presses himself against the wall of the inner airlock and inches his way into the darkness. The limited sensors on his suit don’t show anyone nearby.

"​​Kowl gut xiya, pampa. Send imalowda."

After a few gut clenching moments Zaki sees a suitlight glow getting closer. He grabs his flashlight and begins flickering it, Belta and universal sign for, "Get the fuck over here now, idiot."

Sharma guides Claire and Cas as best she can.

Gideon doesn’t hesitate a second and clumsily kicks off the wall, trying to strafe along with his pistol. "I’ll help the captain!"Gideon doesn’t look back as he crashes and scrapes across the wall down the hallway, then kicks off again. He grabs Cas from Sharma, which helps her get Claire to the airlock.

"Pashang…" Zaki mutters when he catches sight of the wound in Claire’s gut. She slaps her handheld against his chest as Sharma manoeuvers them through the airlock.

"Gif deting fo Lobos," she barks at him, and he glances down at the blood smeared screen in his vac suit’s palm.

He kicks over to Hinkley and helps maneuver him into the doorway. "Ta ge imalowda, Pampa. Gut fo go. Vamanos."

Zaki soars through the emergency seal and keys the Lahmu’s airlock closed behind him. Sharma and Hinkley have switched casualties, the woman straps Cas into a seat while Hinkley is murmuring quietly to O’Rourke.

Back at the cross section tunnel, the ambusher empties the clip of their pistol against Lobos’ visor and suddenly they’re right next to the power armored warrior, coming at him with an extendable baton, which would tickle slightly less than the gunfire. Whoever this is, they know they’re not surviving this encounter. They don’t care.

The Lahmu banks gently, a slight lurch as Zaki eases onto the thrusters. Gideon turns away, out of respect for this moment. Sharma sits on the corner of the foldout seat she’s strapped Cas into. She’s watching… but not, a stricken, distant look on her face as Claire dies, cradled by Lobos’ gauntlets.

Claire actually smiles up at Lobos, blinking sleepily. Gideon’s clearly given her something for the pain. Even though she’s gone deathly pale, her golden-blonde hair sticking to the cold sweat on her forehead, Lobos can’t help but think of the expression on her face waking up next to her.

"Oye Blue…" she says, a trembling whisper, amusement colouring her old world-turned Belta accent, her breath rapid and fluttering, sharp little nervous, shallow intakes. "Oye Blue… Oye…"

She’s too cold, the skin, sweat and blood-soaked jumpsuit against the armour. Blood’s not supposed to feel that cool. Lobos has seen this before, a bullet’s passed right through her stomach and side, severe blood-loss, late hypovolemic shock, hypoxia, he doesn’t even need to access the medical feedout from his suit. Her blood has soaked through her suit and the metal grating underneath her, it’d take an entire medical team and a massive blood transfusion to give her even a chance of surviving.

She reaches a hand up weakly, as if she wants to run it across his face, but even in microgravity she’s too weak, her hand just waves slowly and lazily. Her breathing picks up, and she frowns a little, confused. "Blue… Oye Blue… Mi shelaf fo wang ere tumotim… ke? Im kowl gut, milowda ye tenye tim fo fo du da meet. Mi ámolof to, bik Blue. Sweet dreams."

Her breathing goes fast and shallow, the rest of the skiff gone quiet except for the occasional muted hum of the vessel’s thrusters. She blinks slowly, confused, and gives Lobos a sleepy smile before closing her eyes. It’s gentle, as far as deaths can go.

*

Something’s happening on Prometheus… something that eclipses a three-way shootout in old mining tunnels. The couple dozen people on the station’s single public promenade are gathered around screens and terminals, or hunched over handhelds, speaking in hushed, furtive voices, if at all. Headlines in Inner and Belter Creole scroll across the news feeds, with graphics, simulations and talking heads on every channel.

EROS IMPACTS ON VENUS

There’s a stifled sob, a muttered curse. The news is too absurd to be believed, but every telescope and sensor in the system is now turned on the second planet, and initial readings confirm this. One and a half million people, the birthplace of Belter culture, now a crater beneath clouds of sulfuric acid on an alien planet.

Nothing could survive that.

*

There’s a gentle bump as the Lahmu connects with the Bonny’s starboard airlock on the freight level. A few of the crew can be glimpsed through the small airlock windows, standing across the hold by the port airlock.

On the way back to the pirate’s ship Hinkley let Lobos know, in a low and efficient report, that the captive was dead, likely self-inflicted through a mod or even a suit function since most of his injuries were superficial. But there’s still plenty to be learned from the body and suit, he’ll store it, take a look at it if they get the chance.

Hinkley has secured the captive’s body and revived a sullen Cas, who stares down in a daze, unfocused. Sharma is taking a look to see who’s in the hold, and assess the airlock panel and contact the crew, since only the Captain and XO can override the security lockout during the exchange.

After a moment, she walks back over and crouches down beside Lobos. He notices how she reaches out and touches Claire’s arm out of respect, even reverently.

"Something’s not right in the hold," she murmurs, eyes still on the airlock window. "The crew have their backs to us and they’re limp, unconscious or…"

She glances down at Claire, and the stricken look has been replaced with a practiced coolness, but Lobos recognizes something in Sharma’s eyes. An intense fury, hatred at the people who have done this.

"Dead. That doesn’t give me hope for the rest of the crew, and the XO. Uthys, Pol and Xen in there are the best guns on board. That makes getting in complicated."

"Na deting complicated."

Zaki floats down and lands with a soft thunk as his boots magnetize. He’s clutching something to his stomach, it’s smeared with blood, as are his hands and the front of his VAC suit. He holds Claire’s handheld out to Lobos, carefully, and the soldier watches as the Anne Bonny’s command codes transfer to him. With little fanfare, Caiden Lobos is now captain of pirate’s modified freighter.

*

Three pirates stand dead just inside the port airlock, boots still locked to the deck, clearly taken by surprise. There was a small shootout at the door into the armory leaving four more pirates, including the XO, gored with heavy rifle fire, making strange, gruesome wraiths standing amidst whisps remaining from a smoke grenade. Inside the armory it looks like two of the pirates surrendered, opened the vault for the boarders with the XO’s override and were promptly executed. Not a soul aboard left alive.

And the sample is gone.

Zaki is sitting with Cas in the Lahmu, while Gideon goes about the unpleasant but necessary task of dealing with the half-dozen dead bodies. After Sharma helps Gideon get Claire into the single mortuary compartment in the med bay she climbs up to the bridge to take stock of the ship’s condition and status in refueling, but there’s still the issue of clearing up their account with the docks.

Finishing the task of getting all of the corpses secured in the armory, Gideon climbs back up to the hold and sits against the wall near the airlock to the Lahmu looking numb, exhausted, staring out at nothing.

Zaki, who looks miserable, got Cas strapped into bed–the older Belter went quiet and docile back aboard the Bonny–and then checked on flight controls. Zaki’s sure of serí things: that they can take control with Lobos’ new permissions, that he can pilot the Bonny, and that they’ll never get out with the outstanding docking and resupply fees, as well as a security lockdown on the docks–likely caused by the discovery of a shootout in the old mining tunnels… Not unless they want to blast their way out, and that might be pushing their luck.

Zaki’s perched on the upper catwalk of the cargo hold, where he and Hinkley were waiting to see what happens next. Sharma is up on the bridge, Zaki says, and it’s clear he’s avoiding her. Or maybe just sticking close to Hinkley and Lobos. Lobos has seen it before, survivors bound together, anxious to not let one another out of their sight.

Hinkley gulps when Lobos mentions recycling Claire’s body, although Zaki isn’t phased a bit.

"Right, I guess that… right…"

At that moment, Sharma slides down the crew ladder that runs through the center of the hold, flipping around on the caging protecting the entrance to the upper levels. She’s holding out her handheld, a grim look on her face.

"Lobos… you’re going to want to see this. All of you are."

She lands and magnetizes to the deck, and begins keying in commands. She looks spooked, even more so than could be expected, she’s kept a pretty calm head so far all things considered.She flips through the different protocols she’s run the message through.

"I’ve run everything I can think of and… It’s just a normal message." This is what seems to be disturbing her. The normalcy of the message she queues up. "Standard encryptions for a private message, went to the ships’ general comms. I listened to it up on the bridge, sorry. I wanted know what we’re dealing with. I… well, here…"

She holds her hand terminal up and it projects the message, enlarging the picture.

"Survivor’s of the Abzu’s Bounty… my name is Diana, I think we should talk."

The woman on the screen has light brown skin, pale green eyes and dark hair, tied up in a tight bun; an Earther or Martian from her appearance, pretty, if in a conventional sort of way, maybe in her late 30s or early 40s. From the shoulders up it’s clear she’s dressed simply, but well, maybe a corporate employee? A dark coat over a well tailored blouse, no jewelry–so she’s used to traveling in the Black. Her mannerisms are cool, even relaxed, and her speech is precise and direct, businesslike. She speaks for a living.

"I’ve kept my eye on your situation, I’m sorry for your losses, genuinely. But you’re in a precarious and unique situation, and I think we can help each other.

"The most polite term you could use for me is a ‘fixer’, fairly high level, not working, as you may have guessed, in the most legal of markets.

"You are a crew that finds themselves in possession of a ship. Unfortunately for you that ship is a registered pirate vessel, so on top of making getting off Prometheus difficult, running into any patrols or docking in legal ports will be doubly so.

"What I offer is this. I need to get to Mars. Quietly. I have some business there. I can pay, more than enough to cover my passage," she flicks at her handheld terminal, and a standard chartering contract appears on screen as an attachment. The terms are generous. "I can clear things up with station security, cover the docking and resupply fees and provide your ship with a clean bill of health. I’m happy to pay for repairs, although you’ll probably want to do that… well, not here.

"I may also be able to look into your situation. The Bounty being targeted, the attack in the tunnels, the Anne Bonny's crew, the sample… Like I said, I’ve been keeping an eye on your situation, and while you don’t have any reason to believe me–I understand that–I want to find the people who are responsible for all of this. I’m very happy to pool resources to that end.

"If we’re happy with the arrangement once we arrive, I may even have some future freelance work for you. Again, I hope we can help each other. I’m nearby, I’ll await your response."

The feed cuts.

Hinkley exhales a deep breath, exhausted. Zaki’s face scrunches up.

Sharma shakes her head. "It’s a helluva a message."

Zaki's eyes go wide, and he looks at the others like someone is going to challenge the appointment. Gideon gives him the first smile he’s managed since they last left the Bonny.

Sharma nods at Lobos, courteous, "Of course, Captain. I think that’d be good."

"I’ll go check on Cas," Gideon says as Zaki kicks off the wall and floats to the crew ladder. Once the pilot’s cleared the next deck he begins his climb. "And then I’ll catch some kip, if that’s alright."

"I’ll… go inform our client we’re taking the job," Sharma says, and then her expression turns grim as she looks at the bodies Gideon’s prepared. "I’ll forward the personnel files to command… let me know if I can help with the crew’s calls, I didn’t know them long, but Claire had a good crew."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, bracing herself against the ladder.

"R-recycler and botany’s in engineering, the deck just below the cargo hold. I can get the bodies down there," she says to Lobos before starting the climb, tossing back in a dry tone. "I… actually have a bit of a green thumb."

*

The woman is dressed simply but smartly, a loose but well tailored, dark suit, business attire. Even her mag-boots are simultaneously stylish and high quality at a glance. She has dark hair, pale green eyes and light brown skin, an Inner from her height and build. Her mannerisms are cool, even relaxed, and her speech is precise and direct. Sensors register little more than some toiletries, a couple changes of clothes and her handheld–heavily encrypted, of course.

Sharma stands with Lobos inside the cargo deck as they open the airlock facing Prometheus to Diana, who nods graciously as her boots click smartly across the deck.

"Thank you," she stands just inside the airlock door. "Diana, but you know that."

"Tulsi Sharma," the other woman says. Diana nods and turns to Lobos.

Sharma nods and clunks over to the ladder in her boots, climbing downwards towards the re-processor on engineering where the dozen corpses of the crew are waiting; a mercy that they’re now wrapped in biodegradable body bags, their features obscured. Claire’s body awaits in a special compartment up a level in the med bay.

Diana nods and follows Lobos.

"Putting me to work right away. I can respect that," Diana says, deadpan.

"And please, fire away. I’ll answer what I can, you’ll excuse me if I’m cagey around some subjects. I am out here on business."

She takes the bags without complaint and follows him up two levels into the crew quarters. They head into the first room, which was reserved for the first mate and a couple of her partners, since this is one of the two rooms connected to a head. There’s not much as far as personal items, a few small items tucked away in padded storage beneath the bed. Some makeup, small pieces of jewelry, the occasional bottle of booze, or uppers, or downers.

"You’d be surprised, Captain," Diana says as she places a cracked handheld from a compartment into her storage bag.

Diana is good, clearly used to dealing with people who accept her at face value. Lobos is better than that.

She has combat training, Lobos can recognize it in her muscles as they subtly play across her lean body in movement, even through her clothes, and in the way she carries herself. She’s physically fit, and there’s a tension he knows all too well. Vigilance. He can tell that the "naval investigation" comment doesn’t bother her at all. In fact, he senses amusement in her tone. That could mean she’s a naval "contractor", or a UN asset, or else she just isn’t intimidated by the idea of a brush with naval intelligence.

They move to the next room, one of the two corner rooms, a wedge between its two neighbors, one of the three rooms with eight bunk compartments. This one was clearly filled with crewmembers, there are a few extra personal touches, some minor graffiti, digital posters of Belter musicians.

"While our circumstances are drastically different, I’m here for the same reason as you," she continues as they go through the compartments. "I occasionally worked with Captain O’Rourke, usually she would pass along information for a decent fee if it proved useful. I was not involved in the unfortunate circumstances that led to the Bounty’s destruction. A mess like that invites questions. That was clumsy of whoever her client was."

Lobos can tell she genuinely believes this as a point of pride. From her tone, Diana considers the orders to destroy the Bounty amateurish.

"My client–who I am not free to disclose, before you ask–is interested in what brought us both to Prometheus. The silicate material that you, Mr. Hinkley and your first mate extracted from that ice chunk. It’s called ‘protomolecule.’ You may not have heard the term yet, but you will very soon, on every network in the solar system. Captain O’Rourke passed along word, she knew I was collecting information on the protomolecule. The fact that I had just arrived on Prometheus, following up on a lead, was lucky. Hector Cruz, he claimed to have a sample. I suppose he was a little premature in that estimation."

Lobos doesn’t pick up on any body language or facial expressions that betray lies. He gets the sense that she’s sharing what she can to avoid the things she won’t talk about. She's not behaving maliciously, she clearly deals in information.

Diana fixes her hair and turns to the camera seriously.

"My name is Diana Honoridez, independent investigator in the Outer Planets, statement at the request of Captain Lobos," she says, speaking directly to the camera, unphased by being recorded. "The protomolecule. What I know is mostly hearsay, but it’s believed the protomolecule is connected to both Phoebe Station, the destroyed Martian research facility and whatever happened on Eros. It’s believed to be a bioweapon, although how it took a station of one and a half million people offline in a matter of hours with not a single survivor begs a lot of questions. Then there’s the whole… Eros crashing into Venus thing, I bet that one’s got some people scratching their heads. The only credible thing I know for certain is from a UN intelligence briefing that links Phoebe with an Earth-based corporation called Protogen. Intercepted communications with the Krystal Kleer Water Company placed a silicate material that matches the protomolecule profile on the destroyed ice hauler the Abzu’s Bounty just before it’s destruction. I followed that sample to Prometheus where it was taken, don’t know who by or where to. That about sums it up. For the record."

Diana Honoridez, independent investigator, is serious and direct, no nonsense, a straight shooter. She’s a character, likely as real as mononym Diana.

They head into the final room, the second two-bunker connected to the second head. Both bunks are currently occupied, Cas is strapped into the bottom bunk, Hinkley in the top. Neither of them rouse in the slightest; sleep aids.

Diana takes Lobos hand, nodding with an enigmatic smile, "Thank you, Captain Lobos."

*

After the hours-long laborious process of committing the dozen former crew to the reprocessor–the only one left is Claire in the morgue compartment in the small med bay–Lobos and Sharma join a rested Hinkley on ops. The deck is arranged around four flight chairs in a rough cross pattern facing operations terminals, the ladder to the lower levels at the center of the deck. Between the six and nine o’clock chairs is a steep, narrow metal grate staircase that leads up to the flight deck, with two pilot chairs facing starboard… such as there are shipboard directions out in the black. Zaki glances down through the metal grate of the flight deck, curled up in a ball in the right hand pilot’s chair.

Diana’s changed into some comfortable daywear, loose-fitting athletic clothes, and is hunched over the transponder system inset into one of the walls, a couple of wires connected to her handheld as she walks the crew through giving the freighter new codes. Sharma shoots Lobos a wary look, they both know that changing transponder codes on the fly requires high-level military grade software, and Diana acts like it’s easy as replacing an air filter.

"Alright Captain," Diana nods at the closest terminal. "All that’s left is the rechristening."

Hinkley laughs to himself and shakes his head in amusement when Lobos inputs "Devil’s Dance". Sharma hands out glasses of honest to God Irish whiskey–Gideon sticks to water–and the five raise their glasses.

"To Captain O’Rourke and the crew of the Anne Bonny."

*

Zaki keeps the Devil’s Dance at a steady clip just under a full G. He plots an optimal course, assuming they don’t run into any trouble, that will put them at Mars after ten days. Although assuming they won’t run into any trouble seems increasingly unlikely.

Skirmishes between Mars and the Belt and the chaos that follows; the Canterbury, the Donnager, the Xinglong, the Abzu’s Bounty, a couple dozen modified rockhoppers turned guerilla OPA fleet; Phoebe, Eros sailing through the system at an impossible speed on a direct course for Earth just before zipping past and crashing into Venus… and now Deimos.

Earth had stayed neutral up until a message by the now system-wide infamous James Holden revealed the ships that destroyed the Martian flagship Donnager were authorized for construction by the United Nations. The UN responded by burning to Mars and traded Phoebe for Deimos as a show of force. Martian military facilities and a deep radar station, thousands more lives gone with the push of a button. Sharma is obviously disturbed by the development. A Martian moon reduced to a ring of dust.

Despite the chaos throughout the system, life aboard the Dance takes on a strangely easy routine as Zaki and Lobos set up a duty rotation. Diana takes some cleaning duties and makes a decent mushroom almost-risotto when it's her turn to cook. Zaki is quickly taken out of kitchen duty for good–nobody asks for seconds of his bizarre concoction of Cup Noodles, watery tomato soup and diced protein rations. Cas doesn’t take any duties, Zaki is the only one who can even coax him to eat or wash. Hinkley does his best to make himself useful anywhere he can, and does his best to keep Cas functional. Sharma handles comms and delivers regular reports on local traffic, but otherwise spends her time tending to the walls of devil’s ivy in the galley. Zaki leaves the bridge only to check on Cas and get a few hours of sleep, otherwise he’s in the right hand pilot chair listening to inscrutable Belter rock.

Diana makes good on her promise, the transponder codes mean the Grendel-class freighter receives regular patrol hails to the Devil’s Dance, and the clean bill of health, a legitimate flight plan and transport charter mean the pirate vessel continues on its way.