“The Council chose the best,” Orson said, pushing past the two gladiators. He held his hand out, and Brekt promptly filled it with a weapon. This one was oddly blocky, a series of cuboids affixed to a single long rod. “Our crew was selected after a lengthy process of elimination.”
“Wow, so everyone else was somehow even worse than you huh? Tell me captain best of the best, why even come here in the first place? That ranks right up there on the stupid decision league tables.” Happy the stairwell was clear, Aileena had twisted herself back into the narrow corridor, taking up position alongside the door.
“Aileena, don’t antagonise the man.” Mellok shook his hands as Brekt offered him a weapon. “I’m sorry, but my order does not believe in using weapons. I’m afraid I must decline.”
“Uh, if you’re sure chief. I don’t’ really follow, seeing as the ship has weapons and all.” Brekt shrugged his shoulders. He tossed the weapon to Meggok, before reaching back into the bag for another.
“Ah, it is the ship using the weapons, not me.”
“Yeah but you tell the ship what to shoot at. I’m not seeing the distinction here if I’m honest.”
“Can we argue about religious semantics later?” Orson’s voice was full of bluster. He wasn’t used to dealing with civilians and mercenaries, and the lack of urgency was getting on his nerves. “There’s going to be a horde of angry pirates out there, and we need to move.”
The corridor was silent. The tunnels of Ossiark were vast and wide, streets encased in metal crisscrossing through the shattered world. Normally they bustled with a bewildering array of alien life, strange creatures going about their business. Now it was a ghost town, the only noise that of the air pumps cycling free atmosphere in and out.
Now fully armed, the rag-tag collection of gladiators, soldiers, mercenaries and a lone tour guide poured out from the entrance of the holding facility, roaring in defiance. They stumbled forward, embarrassed, suddenly aware they were alone.
“Uh, I was expecting more, well pirates I guess?” Michael took cover behind a large plastic bin. “Shouldn’t there be a welcome party?”
“There should, yes.” Clive walked forwards, a gun held tightly in his mechanical hand. He swept his head, searching for signs of life, his hair remaining perfectly still as he did. “There is no-one in the adjoining chambers either.”
“How could you tell?” Aileena asked. She still kept her weapon tight to herself, expecting an ambush.
“There is no heat signatures within them. Humans are capable of thermal vision.”
“We really aren’t,” Michael said. “Now robots, they might have thermal vision, predator style.”
“I guarantee I am a one hundred per cent genuine human. Would a robot be able to understand your reference to hit nineteen-eighty-seven motion picture Predator?”
“I mean, clearly yes. Literally, no-one outside of press releases calls them motion pictures.”
“Ok, let’s leave the robot his delusions,” Mellok said, scuttling forwards past the line of armed comrades. “Something is going on, and it would behove us to find out what it is exactly.”
The object was massive, dwarfing the hastily assembled pirate fleet. It was a long pillar of stone, jagged and sharp, floating through space towards Ossiark. Lights seemed to creep out through the cracks in the rock, the only hints at the complex machinery inside. A single point of brilliant blue was embedded in the centre of the pillar, it glowed ominously.
Greddog was sat in the command chamber of his flagship. By contrast, his vessel was a mishmash thing, assembled from the deadliest parts scavenged from raided ships. It was a powerful weapon of war, but difficult to wrangle, the alien components often fighting against each other. The ship was a wild untamed animal, capable of ferocious frenzy, and Greddog would have it no other way. It was no match for the stone ship bearing down on him now, but Greddog’s fleet was large, it would at least draw blood.
“Get me a comms channel now! I want to know what they’re doing here!” Greddog slammed his fists on the arms of his chair. He had always been a stern master, even during his early days building up his name, but his crew adored him. Success was the key, a constant stream of plunder snatched from the holds of other vessels. Mercenary maybe, but it worked. Greddog had kept the tradition going even after swapping boarding actions for slot machines, giving each of his pirates a small cut of casino profits. It had made them lazy, their responses to his orders slower than he would like. “First the council show’s up, then these rocky bastards? That’s no coincidence.”
“My lord, the vessel is responding.” The pirate at the comms was a small primate with six limbs, each of which was pulling levers and pressing buttons.
“Excellent, let’s say hello.” Greddog shifted in his chair, adjusting himself in an attempt to appear as regal as possible. There was a shimmer of light as the hologram of his counterpart sprang to life before him. It was a strange creature, a pile of animated rock with a gem at its centre, sharp jagged stones held together by an unseen force.
“Lord Greddog, you have my greetings,” the creature said, the gemstone pulsing with light as it spoke. “I do hope our appearance has not troubled you. This certainly is a… warm welcome, you have rolled out to meet me.” The creature gestured outwards with its arm. The limb wasn’t attached at the shoulder, instead floating a centimetre away. Its fingers were pointed daggers and were likewise not truly attached.
“It is not often a Substrate dreadnought comes knocking on your door.”
“Yes, well, it is strange times in the galaxy. I am Lord Abberax, and I come to you as an emissary of the Substrate, to discuss terms.” Abberax had an odd scratchy voice, its sound generated by minerals being rubbed together.
Greddog raised one eyebrow and leant back in his chair. “Terms? Powerful though your dreadnoughts might be, every pirate on Ossiark would die before giving it up.”
“Oh, you misunderstand me, we seek to use Ossiark. To partake of its functions as a port. It is uniquely suited to our needs. Outside of Council control, but still close to its border. I should like to meet you, lord to lord.”
“They finally did it didn’t they? The Council finally got stupid enough to move against you.” Greddog let out a long laugh, a thick hearty chuckle. The crew around him joined in, forming a wall of noise that slowly tapered out. “I never thought I would see the day.”
“Truly, we don’t know. We know that someone has, as you said, moved against us. It seems that the Council would be the most likely culprits, yes. Either way, it would be prudent to be prepared.”
Greddog drummed his hand on the edge of his chair, excitement building in his body. How could he refuse? A chance to get one over on the Council and bring in a new batch of customers, it seemed too good to pass over. “I welcome you to Ossiark in that case, I think we have a lot to talk about.”
“Come on, come on.” Aileena was stood by the door to the ship, beckoning for the others to follow. The streets had been mostly silent. The people they had seen were packed into bars, or by public video screens, all eager to get their view on the commotion in orbit. Aileena had never seen a Substrate vessel, not in person, but she had heard the rumours. The rock-based ruling class of the powerful empire lorded over the lesser carbon-based species, considering them inferior. She had heard horror stories of control collars and mind control drugs, but it was just rumour, passed from one drinking joint to the next.
What she did know for sure was that the Substrate was powerful, the masters of controlling antimatter, their ships were said to be the match for entire fleets. It seemed Greddog had launched every ship he had to intercept the oncoming vessel, leaving the way clear. It had been the easiest escape Aileena had ever experienced, having been through more than she would like to admit to.