PROLOGUE

  THE CALAMITY

  I

  A calculated and meticulous man, Veril Augustus accomplished a feat many claimed impossible. Constructing a throne fit for the galactic government, a new center of humanity's dominion over the stars, was deemed too bold an endeavor for one man to shoulder. Unperturbed by naysayers, Veril got to work with an immediacy that shocked even his patrons, delivering the blueprints within a single solar cycle and embarking upon the monumental construction that same week. However, it would be decades before the grand undertaking would reach fruition. Veril, at the ripe old age of seventy-six, presented his work to the galactic council. Astonished at the magnificence of his creation, he was granted anything he desired; any wish, no matter how outlandish, would be fulfilled. He pondered for a moment, but only a moment. Already wealthy beyond imagining, and with his life's work behind him, what was left to acquire?

  "Though man has taken his rightful place as ruler of the stars, let us remember that we are orphans, abandoned by our mother after polluting her womb with our greed. Here is our opportunity for a second Eden. The Fallonark will be the cradle for future generations. From her hallowed foundations, a new humanity will rise. The arc of the seventh sentence will be our guide, fresh commandments through which the follies of history will cease their painful repetitions, allowing achievement of the potential commanded by the almighty. I only desire for the words imbued on these scrolls to be heeded by all."

  "Some wish to see this structure in flames. Dissatisfied with the current order, they will march upon this sacred ground with hatred in their hearts. On that day, a choice will arise. Show them that you are men of peace and progress, or confirm their mistrust as they stare down the barrel of your weapons."

  With this, Veril departed and was never heard from again. On that day, the galactic government swore an oath before the arc. Each man and woman pledged their lives to uphold the laws laid down in the scrolls and to strive to find humanity a new home, another Earth.

  ----

  Immaculate. Strolling the Fallonark's endless thoroughfares, the thought thrummed through his mind, humbled by the architectural marvel. The Captain halted his advance at the threshold to a bridge of radiant glass. Beyond its crystalline surface, the immense towers of the central ring soared into the heavens, crowned with a halo of distant suns. Though enticing, his prize lay not above, but below. Peering down into the expansive work-yard, he savored his introduction to the pinnacle of engineering. Swarmed by thousands of enthusiastic workers, the Eureka sat upon a throne of scaffolds and gantries, staring out into the cosmos through a glimmering atmospheric shield.

  "Astounding." The Captain whispered to himself. Although aware that the vessel was beyond anything that had preceded it, even his grandiose imaginings were insufficient when faced with reality. A levitating city of light, the Eureka harbored within the apex of humanity's knowledge and ingenuity. Not solely purposed for war, the ship was to ferry humanity to the far side of the Seethe, a journey even the Citadels were incapable of making. Beyond this rift of desolation, the galactic government hoped to expand man's dominion, offering the vast drifter colonies hope of a new home.

  As he approached the cargo platform, blades of light shot from a scanning reticle at its center. He stood to attention as the rays slid over his body, probing for morsels of deception. Differing from the personnel profile by even the minutest detail would result in a complete facility lock-down, summoning guard units to the offending location.

  "Welcome, Captain Hallow," said the security officer, greeting him as he stepped onto the platform.

  His descent, although lengthy, brimmed with expectation. He observed the craftsmen applying the final layers of paint to the vessel's starboard side. Each of the giant letters that spelled out her namesake were an impressive fifty stories in height, a full third of her hulls surface. The Captain had heard that the chief engineer chose her name. After many years of struggling to finalize the ship's design, he conceived the missing component while enjoying a bowl of tar eels. Leaping from his stool and covering himself and the restaurant owner in the bowl's contents, he yelped the word he would bestow upon his vessel. Eureka.

  Coming to an abrupt stop, the Captain departed the platform and looked upon the ship's wedge-shaped bow, modeled on Earth's great ice-breaking vessels that first breached the frozen continents of the planet's poles: behemoths of steel, crewed by only the fiercest adventurers, tasked with forging a path through inhospitable lands in search of hidden wealth. A similar destiny burdened the Eureka. The Seethe was a treacherous venture for even the hardened explorer: an unending belt of desolation, concealing within vast swathes of pirates, exiled after the Maiden Sin almost a century ago.

  Hallow glanced at his timepiece, watching the seconds tick by. As the hand struck the thirty-third minute of the day's third hour, chaos erupted. Wailing a lament of warning, the Fallonark's internal workings screamed with the threat of meltdown. The thousands crowding the Eureka scattered in panicked funnels, for her star-forged heart threatened their existence. Orders flooded the comm's systems, instructing each wing of the vast facility to head toward the escape flotilla. All heeded this advice, all except Captain Hallow.

  He waited until the work-yard floor was sufficiently cleared before making his way to the boarding ramps and entering the vessel. Countless fleeing workers looked upon his advance with confusion, but so preoccupied were they with escape that they didn't stop to question. Upon entering the Eureka's pristine interior, Hallow activated his helmet to dull the ear-aching whine of the sirens. The aqueous film slipped over his shaven head, blunting the impact of the outside world and allowing him to focus. Consulting a navigation console, he quickly plotted a route to the engineering bay, taking the maintenance tunnels as all elevation platforms and cargo shafts were rendered nonviable during an emergency. He passed several personnel members who had refused the call to abandon ship, working feverishly to assess the cause of the unforeseen disturbance. The Eureka had passed all safety and readiness checks in the previous weeks and showed no signs of even inconsequential fault. A complete core meltdown was absurd, and the inquisitive minds of the ship's crew scoured reams of data readouts to discover its origin, even at the cost of their own lives.

  Unhampered in his advance, Hallow proceeded to the engineering bay, the fulcrum of defiance against Eureka's terminal prognosis. Passing through the towering stacks of panicked machinery, Hallow spied the man in charge.

  'Chief Engineer. Looks like you're in a spot of trouble.' Hallow's announcement summoned a wave of salutes from the Naval personnel. Even Lanic stopped his feverish diagnostics to pay respect to their distinguished arrival.

  'That we are, Captain. Though I assure you, the Eureka is in perfect health. I fear she has been tampered with. And, forgive me for such an accusation, but perhaps a traitor has infiltrated our walls.' Lanic's assumption put a smile on Hallow's face.

  'They told me nothing would slip past you, and they were almost right.' Hallow said, slowly pulling a shimmering object from his jacket. The time for charades had come to an end. Hallow retracted the film of his helmet seal. Oxygenated liquid peeled down over his deep-set eyes, taking with it the chestnut-colored skin to reveal the pale visage of what dwelt beneath. The regal white of the Naval uniform disintegrated, replaced by the dim charcoal of a many-tailed long coat. Emblazoned on its back was a warning, a symbol of allegiance to the galaxy's vilest aberration: a spider atop a pair of crossed daggers, fangs bared with lethal intent.

  "A thousand faces have I known. Yet the one I wear is not my own." Not-Hallow whispered the cryptic verse, and all under the spell heeded its call, responding in turn to complete the incantation. By the time Lanic realized, it was too late. Every engineer left in Eureka's core leveled a previously concealed weapon at him. The man who had moments ago been Captain Hallow began to clap as he saw the realization dawn on Lanic's face.

  'Thane.' Lanic recognized the man staring back at him from the wanted Holo-boards dotted throughout the Hyacinth. Marick Thane bowed before the Chief Engineer, not solely as a mocking gesture but in genuine respect for the man's brilliance.

  "I wish our meeting were under different circumstances, but alas. The Eureka will embark on her maiden voyage, and you will facilitate this request." Ordered Thane. Preempting Lanic's refusal, he nodded to the engineers. Each man turned his pistol on himself, holding the barrel against his temple.

  "Threatening you would be ineffectual. Your crew, however, now that might elicit a more favorable response. The entire station believes your ship on the verge of meltdown. Ferry her into the void and take the escape pods with your crew. Follow my instructions, and no harm will befall you." Lanic looked around at the faces of the people under his command. Each presented midnight black eyes, possessed by whatever evil the Pirate Lord had conjured with his words. Lanic knew there would be no further negotiations, but handing over the galaxy's most formidable vessel to a pirate was madness. Lanic's hesitated, trapped in a heartbeat of misgiving. Thane’s request was denied. Lanic lunged for the security switch, an action that would summon an army to his position. But even at this distance, Thane was quicker. Before Lanic's finger could glance the switch, his two outstretched arms were severed at the armpit, flailing in opposite directions on arcs of purpled blood. The superheated blade Thane employed sealed the amputations on impact, leaving only thin rivulets of blood to flow. Lanic screamed in pain, clutching the steaming wounds in a futile attempt to mute the agony. Thane smiled that sickening grin all pirates seemed to possess. It was power. Helplessness, desperation, panic, and terror all fed the diseased egos of the fallen. Although Lanic pitied the beast dressed in human guise, he had no choice but to obey.

  "Good man," said Thane, gesturing to the engineers to lower their weapons. Lanic slowly pushed himself to his feet with a heavy heart, employing his remaining two arms, he disengaged the locking mechanisms anchoring the Eureka to the Fallonark. With a protracted sigh, he placed his override key in the ignition.

  "Stop!" the command halted Lanic's action. He turned to see another Ven entering the ignition bay.

  Zyre's rush to Lanic, halting upon noticing their unwelcome guest: the mane of Auburn hair tied back in a knot and silver eyes that brimmed with witch-sight. These features alone betrayed an ignoble soul, but it was the arachnid that sat upon the man-creatures back that cemented an allegiance sold to villainy.

  "You fool Lanic, how could you..." Zyre stopped his tirade as a dozen weapons targeted him. He saw the absence of cognition in their midnight gaze and concluded the rumors about Marick Thane were true: Possessing the ability to control the actions of another with just his words, his will irresistible to all. One only need look the man in the eye and hear his poisoned tongue to fall under his spell. A bond only broken upon completion of his command. Despite hearing of similar feats performed by the Admirals, it all sounded foolish to Zyre at the time. With his failure of imagination corrected, he stared at the scene of his unmaking.

  Lanic's hands shuddered over the ignition key. Thane noticed the hesitation, and with a simple tilt of his head, a shot rang out. Zyre fell to the ground, grasping at his knee with all four of his arms as he screamed in pain.

  'Next one will be in his head. If you please, Chief Engineer,' said Thane, the patience waning in his request.

  'Let him kill us all! No one life is worth...' Zyre passed out before he could finish his plea, an alarming pool of blood welling around him. The engineers regained their self-annihilating posture, and Lanic, warring with Zyre's appeal, ignited the core.

  II

  Sailing free of the Iris-gate, the Naval Armada observed the ailing Citadel from a safe distance. Were the Eureka to descend into a complete core meltdown, the radius of her demise would eclipse a supernova. Lanic assumed that all remaining personnel were under Thane's spell and abandoned any notion of contacting the bridge. His fellow engineers acted without command, running through the launch procedure they had drilled countless times. To his surprise, and despite her premature departure, everything ran smoothly. The Eureka's engines were mild-tempered, gravitational stabilizers held firm and the core retained consistent rotation. All his years of work were a success, and a sliver of pride intruded into the all-pervasive terror.

  As the Eureka reached a significant distance from the Fallonark, Thane strode over to the communications panel and sent word to the weapons bay.

  'Let us not leave without saying goodbye.' Thane's words sent a tremor through the Eureka's hull. Countless gun-ports yawned open, unveiling her full martial splendor. A hexagonal field of hull segments split apart, unsheathing the mighty cannon hidden within her heart. The Naval vessel's display of aggression sliced through the illusion of crisis Thane had so expertly crafted, drawing the targeting systems of every ship in the Naval Armada.

  'I would suggest power to shields, Chief Engineer.' Thane said calmly, anchoring himself to a nearby fixture. Lanic could not accept it. They wouldn't fire on the Eureka. They couldn't. A barrage of incoming hails hit the comm system. Stand down orders across the board from every Naval Captain in the Fallonark's vicinity: Surrender or face annihilation. Lanic turned to Thane, unable to imagine that, even through the tempest of insanity that engulfed his mind, he thought victory conceivable. The Eureka unleashed a torrent of munitions before a reply could formulate in his mind. A thousand thousand shells burst from her virgin weaponry, a payload of destruction not witnessed since the Maiden Sin almost a century before. Incinerated by the thousand, the Armada burned. Lanic, seized by dread, watched the extinguishing of life on a genocidal scale. Although reply was swift, it did little but scratch the Eureka's impenetrable shields.

  I've brought doom upon us all.

  Lanic wept at the wickedness of his creation. Conceived as a savior, his crowning achievement had warped into an indescribable terror that none could escape. She continued her rampage even after signals of surrender appeared. As the Armada dwindled and futility set in, the Captains pleaded with the Eureka to spare their crews. But these pleas fell on deaf ears.

  Thane continued to whisper orders through the comms systems, activating sleeper cells of tainted minds to do his bidding. How he had managed to infect so many with his poison astounded Lanic, but he knew Thane was just a puppet, his master dwelling nearby. As if warping reality with his thoughts, he noticed incoming proximity alerts across the quadrant. Hundreds of individual detections sparked to life across the Holo-map, all hostile. The pirates were gathering in a sea of enemy flags, hulls scarred with barbarous sigils, vessels shaped like Galleons from long-dead seas. Crawling from their decades-long slumber in the desolate regions of Seethe space, they seized the moment of weakness, striking at the Navy's heart. Most of the arrivals were inconsequential riffraff, stragglers that would assist any cause that generated enough credits and chaos. Others were of a more significant caliber. Lanic watched through the Holo-screens as four visions of death descended upon the spires of the Fallonark — Dreadnoughts, the pirate fleet's most deadly, captained by Thane's peers, the Pirate Lords. The Bassalark, Gallowmare, Insidia, and Thane's own Arachnaris hovered motionlessly above the Naval Headquarters, basking in the plasma inferno. In a concentrated assault, the Dreadnoughts bled murder upon the Fallonark. Her shields buckled in a matter of seconds. A thousand tons of lethality scoured her edifices to the foundation. Volka's orders were absolute. They were to leave no vessel untouched, no battlement standing, and no man or woman that flew the flag of the tyrannical Navy alive.

  Amidst their rampage, the Pirate Lords feigned to notice the arrival of two cloaked vessels on the region's outskirts. Silently, they prowled closer to the palatial fortress's dwindling luminance until max-range targeting was breached. The Insidia was the first to feel the Admiral's sting. A plasma lance the size of a Destroyer erupted from the Plata Lanza's bow, spearing her heart and sending her core into complete meltdown.

  'Leave now, full power to engines,' Thane commanded, clearly panicked by the development. Lanic hesitated. If he could stall until the Admiral's arrived, he would... His thoughts of resistance vanished as a cloud of blood misted his eyes. The engineer standing closest to him fell to the floor, blood oozing from a self-inflicted head wound.

  'Now.' Said Thane, unimpressed by the reckless hesitation. Acting at the behest of some extrinsic Will, Lanic routed all power to the engines. The Eureka groaned, boosting to Pulse speed for some unknown heading, toward a destiny Lanic knew would be steeped in death.

  Days of carnage and slaughter stained the Eureka with violations no atonement could cleanse. Every Naval facility in the galaxy emptied its military might into the void, all sent on a collision course with an unkillable specter. Under Thane's tutelage, she maimed and ruined her way through the cosmos, arriving at her ultimate destination a blunted wreck. Though still capable of both offensive and defensive maneuvers, the Eureka steamed with the destructive attempts of her creators. All manner of weapon were employed to still her advance, succeeding only in a brief abatement as she ground her aggressors to ash. The Dreadnoughts had managed to break free of their encounter with Admiral Hail, throwing the full weight of the pirate fleet before his cannons and eviscerating his shields through mindless sacrifice.

  They arrived at a system scoured from the galactic cartography index, a black smudge secreted within a hollow of willful neglect. Scans detected a single habitable world, dwarfed by its neighboring gas giants and bathed in the toxic rays of a blood sun. Floating above the cursed world was perched an object Lanic could not explain, for it appeared like no ship or machine stored in his encyclopedic memory — an immense floating sphere etched with the Xeno-linguistics of Cipher-tongue and various other machine dialects, studded with a vast network of equidistant pylons trading forks of data-gorged lighting.

  'It's not exactly traditional, but the Cybel never did care too much for that,' said Thane, marveling at his leaders' vessels.

  Lanic's heart sunk upon hearing the name, for their presence confirmed his darkest suspicions of Thane’s aspiration. The surrounding landscape materialized an over-familiar myth he had heard repeated countless times.

  Amidst the churning chaos dwells the immortal prince of cages. Within its heart a would-be King chained to rot throughout the ages.

  An incoming communication burst onto the Holo-screens, breaking through the protective encryption mantles as if none existed. Emerging from a million pricks of harmonized light, an ancient face appeared. Rheumy eyes leered from a forest of matted hair, the last morsels of utility straining to capture the faces starting back. Curved into a rictus posture, gnarled claws reached out to touch Thane's projected form.

  'You have done it, brother. The great work nears completion. The words slipped from the old man's lips as dust from an abandoned tome. Thane knelt before the decrepit projection; his arms crossed over his chest to simulate the crossed daggers under which all pirate kind sailed.

  'The Fallonark burns, her Armada lies in ruins, and Admiral Hail struggles in a distant melee with our forces. All is as predicted, Lord Volka.' Lanic could not believe he gazed upon Volka Cybel. The architect of the Maiden Sin and the left hand of Talas, his years must have numbered a hundred or more. A substantial metallic paw rested on Volka's shoulder, its owner out of frame.

  'The time has come for me, has it, brother? Then, let us proceed. Thank you for your service, Thane; I am sorry it has to end like this.' As Volka spoke, Thane felt a searing pain in his back, and a warm current of rancid breath spilt over his neck.

  'Oh, how I've longed for this,' said Malig, twisting his knife to unleash the paralyzing toxins coating its blade. Thane dropped to his knees. Twitching on the ground, his eyes darted in panic, venom-blurred vision waning. Behind Malig, four figures emerged: a golden-toothed brute, a raven-garbed assassin, a scar-faced Ngangrul, and finally, a visage of betrayal. Thane ignored the others, focusing solely on Noctei. So long had they sailed the stars together, she had become more a reflection than a partner, the true half of his whole. But her gaze abandoned his. Absent of care, desire, and love, she looked upon him as a wounded beast, a broken thing to be discarded.

  Kaligan pulled Thane to his knees, grabbing his head with over-muscled, meaty paws. He locked eyes with his prey, drinking in the desperation as he did with every victim he claimed. Wanting to taste the fear on the envenomed man's breath, Kaligan leaned in close, too close. With the only utility of movement he possessed, Thane whispered a curse.

  A thousand faces have I known...

  Neraka lunged at the broken man, striking his mouth before he could complete the incantation. But it was too late. Kaligan's eyes clouded, and his bulky frame of tattooed mass fell to the ground. Unable to stop his fall, Thane crashed onto the steel-plated ground alongside the hypnotized titan. Though bleeding profusely, his innards burning from the spreading toxins, Thane summoned a smile.

  'You fools. Volka warned you of this,' Neraka said, stuffing a clamp into Thane's mouth before his foul tongue conjured further complications. The clamp stapled his lips together, arresting his speech and sheathing the defiant smile behind a row of metallic fangs. Grakuguruk, the Ngangrul Lord of infamous repute, riffled through Thane's pockets, eager for a memento of such an apex treachery. Although tempted by a collection of artisanal blades, the stacks of loaded credit slates anchored to Thane's belt offered a more appetizing pilfer.

  After a few moments of convulsion, Kaligan recovered from his delirium. Unable to discern any permanent impairment, he inflicted a barrage of revenge upon Thane before pulling him back to an upright posture for Malig to continue his work.

  'Your part in the great work has run its course, Thane. Volka, in his infinite wisdom, has deemed your ability too powerful, too unpredictable, to remain at your whim.' Malig's blade hovered above Thane's eyes, tilting menacingly in his eager grip.

  'Unfortunately, your life will be spared. However, the agony of your future will make you beg for death.' And with those final words, Malig plunged Thane into a darkness from which there was no escape.

  Lingering under the impromptu surgery's agonizing influence, Thane shivered in a still-warm pool of blood, battling with the unfamiliar terror of a sightless existence. Sound had doubled in intensity, and his sense of touch had undergone a profound yet disturbing metamorphosis. The previously pedestrian world felt foreign to his probing fingers, skin, hair, and clothes, taking on an alien aspect to which he feared he would never grow accustomed.

  The menacing taunts of the Pirate Lords had long grown quiet. They awaited Volka's command to disembark the Eureka and descend to the surface of Golgotha. Today, they would witness the fulfillment of a prophecy the Cybel twins had labored over for a century. Thane wondered what lay in store for him in this paradisaical dream world. Were the eternal rewards promised by Volka still accessible to one whose loyalty and assistance had proven so intensely wanting? Or would he be abandoned in their galaxy's bloated corpse, left to fester in the ever-growing wounds of sentient expansion? No answer would quell the pain of his betrayal; no right existed to mend such a grievous wrong.

  An incoming transmission from the Basilica drew the Lords from their lingering. What greeted them was not the elderly face of the leader they had come to know, but a techno-visage of polished Nanoalloy, crowed with a triplet of chained braids draped over newly mechanized shoulders. Transference had reconstituted Volka, unburdening him of the mortal coil and the imminent death he faced, prolonging his villainous existence long enough to see his plans to their end.

  "My Lords, the time has come. Accompany us to salvation," Volka said, bowing his shimmering head in reverence for his brethren. As he stooped, a terrifyingly familiar silhouette appeared behind him — an angel to some, but for the Lord's, he was a gold-clad nightmare.

  Indra unleashed his blade, targeting Volka's throat. Khan threw his bulk between his brother and the curved weapon, deflecting the blow but receiving a scar from its superheated edge for his bravery. Intent on reciprocating the injury, Khan leveled a supercharged Thumper cannon at the Turban-heavy crown of the Admiral, unloading its riotous burden at point-blank range. But Indra was already gone, dematerialized into a petaled mist only to reemerge behind Volka. The Admiral vented a series of precise blows, severing Volka's right hand and left arm before he could reach the control panel. Khan attempted to complete his brother's action, lunging for the key already slotted into the ignition. Indra, well studied in the Cybel machinations, plunged his blade through Khan's cybernetic spinal column, rendering his limbs flaccid and intentions mute. With the brothers disabled, he removed the offending key and stowed it safely inside his robes, looking down on the defeated twins with pity and despair.

  "What abominations you have become to resolve your vile deeds. A shame you will never see the light of your schemes." Indra stated, tapping his communicator to signal his task complete. Though satisfied with his work, he was disturbed by an outpour of implausible mockery. What started as a grinding cough grew into electric laughter, the brother's amusement intriguing the victorious Admiral. From the lower decks, a disturbance emerged. It took Indra precious seconds to discern the ruse. The twins were a distraction. A prize too tantalizing to ignore, they had occupied Indra sufficiently, giving their crew the precious seconds required to fulfill the Basilica's promise. Before he could locate the exact center of activity, light surrendered to absolute black. A pulse of intense energy rang out from the Basilica's core, siphoning every morsel of power from the surrounding vessels and bathing Golgotha in rays of submission. Answering the command of the Cybel sphere, the obsidian obelisk rose from the infernal depths of the spoiled core: a ferry to the underworld. Indra watched through the viewing portal in disbelief. Those Naval personnel of Captain rank or higher commanded the Gologthan shuttle, and none other could summon it from the abyss. The idea that the Cybel had unlocked its secrets was an incomprehensible fallacy, a nightmare of trickery that shattered Indra's perceived dominance. Yet there it was, breaching the diseased miasma that lurked on the prison planet's sun-tortured husk.

  "Impossible," He whispered, disappearing into a shimmering cloud and leaving the cackling androids to drown in an electronic broth of their own spilled innards.

  III

  Aboard the Eureka, the Pirate Lords watched the fabled Obelisk rise from the wound in the dead world. Although prophesied and promised, the event ushered a disbelief among the villains that illustrated hidden doubts. Following the sermons of their high priest for decades, drunk on intoxicating visions of the divine, the Lords hadn't much thought about the end of their great work. Now, witnessing the pillar of their destiny and the dispellation of myth from Volka's proclamation, it dawned on them. Today, they would meet their King.

  Ignorant of the twins' fate, the Lords remained steadfast in their duty. With or without the brothers, they would ensure the emancipation of their King. Coordinated in thought, the Lords went to exit Eureka's bridge, leaving the gravely injured chief engineer and the blind Lord Thane as a memory. With neither man in a position to flee, each could only linger in pain and await judgment from the ultimate authority. However, it seemed the ordeal was not yet at its end.

  Halted in their retreat, the Lords picked up on a distant disturbance: a skittering series of clicks increasing in tone echoed from the benighted hallways beyond. The disabling pulse from the Basilica rendered the Eureka impotent, a floating hulk of beauteous alloy vulnerable to infiltration. It appeared that in their distraction, a precipitous celebration of certain victory, a visitor had arrived.

  Clearing the gloom in a single stride, a giant of steel of sinew came into view. Admiral Gesa seemed distracted, unbothered at the crescent of Pirate Lords arrayed in her path. She prodded at the large mechanized gauntlet adhered to her arm, fingering the controls in a myriad of configurations, yet received no response. The Basilica's pulse had rendered her instrument moot, requiring her to approach the current predicament with a more physical solution. Falling to one knee with a colossal thud, Gesa pulled a claymore from a hidden sheath buried between the intricately sculpted wings of her armor's rear plating. Nearly six feet in length, drawing the blade was a protracted and strenuous task, even for a woman of such statuesque proportion. Floor panels cracked beneath its weight as she dragged the voracious weapon toward its next meal. Though terrified into childlike submission at the approach of the iron-clad nightmare, the Lords had little choice in their response. Acting in unison, the pirates drew their weapons and unleashed a hail of death in a desperate bid for survival. Stopped in her tracks by the barrage of heavy munitions, Gesa weathered the annihilating storm. Shards of her armored coffin fell around her feet, breaking off in splintered chunks to reveal the ebon tapestry of bandaged flesh within. Piece by piece, her walking fortress surrendered to the pirate's ceaseless aggression, the artisanal master-craft vandalized by a ferocious array of ammunition. Barren clacks of sterile weapons signaled the assault's climax. Emptying their weapons into the foredoomed Admiral, the pirates stood slack-jawed at the result of their attempted ruination. Denuded of her armor and smeared in the sooty remnants of explosive rounds, Gesa remained unharmed. No blemish marked her skin; no scratch or bruise polluted the angelic gloom that few had ever seen. Bunched in tight curls atop her prominent head, not a hair was displaced by the despoliation of her carapace. With her sword still clasped in her mighty grip, Gesa advanced.

  Grakuguruk was the first to fall. With not a second offered to evade her attack, his stout form was cleaved in two, a death rattle escaping through clenched teeth as the severed halves sighed apart, disintegrating in a pool of acidic viscera.

  Disinterested in sharing the Ngangrul's fate, the other Lords scattered. Neraka disappeared in a cloud of static mist, narrowly dodging a kill strike aimed at her throat. Before Gesa could retarget her attack, Malig utilized the sizzling aperture formed by his comrades corrosive blood, disappearing into the ship's lower decks, his wicked cackle lingering on the breeze. Noctei and Kaligan were all that remained of the enemy force: two Pirate Lords against the might of an Admiral, the outcome all but certain. Before Kaligan could strike out at Gesa with his serrated Doom-Claws, his legs fell from beneath him. His lower extremities refused his command to move, ineffectual lumps of flesh strewn over the corroded metal. Though sensation had abandoned his legs, the sting of a sharp object in his spine illustrated an unforeseen betrayal.

  "Traitor," he spat, leveling a gaze of incomparable malice at Noctei, who returned only a grin.

  "We adapt as the situation demands, Lord Kaligan," Noctei replied, sedate under her peer's accusatory glare. "Now, I believe we can begin our negoti..." Noctei was cut short, the Admiral having listened for long enough. Gesa leveled her immense weapon at Noctei's chest, hovering inches before her rapidly beating heart. "I can give you the others. Their ships, crews, everything." Noctei said in a desperate plea for her life. Gesa looked at her quizzically in a rare reprieve from her perpetually emotionless stare.

  So quick to turn. So little faith.

  Gesa thought to herself, dampening her already poor impression of the criminal. If they indeed managed to escape, the Pirate Lords would flee back to Seethe-space and become, once again, shadows in endless night. Almost certain to regret the decision, she lowered her weapon. Her orders had been to bring the Lords back alive for interrogation, and though her reputation lacked merciful example, this option engendered less hassle from her peers. Members of the Sect were already on standby to receive whichever Lords the Admirals could apprehend, more than eager to get to work extracting the precious information they harbored.

  Grabbing Noctei by the neck, Gesa moved further into the Eureka's bridge, immediately clocking the two injured men bloodying the ground. Identifying one of the men as the Pirate Lord, Marick Thane, she unleashed a pair of Scuttlecuffs to bind him for transport. The skittering device crawled through the pools of viscera, mounting the curled form of the desensed pirate and binding his wrists in an unbreakable hold. The other man was clearly a civilian, likely a hostage caught up in the pirate scheme. The severed arms of his right side had been poorly sealed and had emptied the Ven of a significant portion of his blood, rendering him in a near-death state. With a flick of the hilt, Gesa charged her claymore with a superheated solution, bringing the blade to a scorching temperature. She pressed the scalding metal against the man's wounds, cauterizing the flesh instantly and stemming the flow of blood. A yelp of pain followed a fall into unconsciousness. Gesa had done what she could and would leave the survival of the unfortunate man to the whim of fate.

  Noctei struggled against the unforgiving grip of the Admiral, trying to squeeze a warning through her constricted windpipe. Gesa didn't require the warning, as she sensed the reemergent presence the moment it appeared. Neraka flashed into view, hovering over Thane's body in a burst of charged lightning. With the distance between them too great for her weapon's reach, Gesa opted for a projectile approach. She launched the claymore like a spear, perfectly aimed the Pirate Lord's head. The claymore found its mark, penetrating the skull and lodging in the ship's hull. Although successful in her lethal attempt, something was wrong. Neraka's body shimmered, glowing from within as if constructed from a thousand points of light.

  Trickery.

  A second, third, and fourth apparition appeared around Thane, each a mirror image of the pirate, but only one corporeal in nature. With a smirk, the visions of Neraka each placed a hand on Thane, incorporating him into the mirage before, once again, disappearing into electrical mist and fading from the Admiral's perception.

  Despite the loss, no anger graced the Admiral's whittled features. She dropped Noctei and stared at her with a question in her gaze.

  "Yes, them too," Noctei replied to the unspoken inquiry, aware that the retrieval of every Pirate Lord was the extent of their bargain.

  Light flashed on the Eureka's consoles, revitalizing the ship, restored power flowing through her veins. After several hours of choking gloom, the effects of the Cybel weapon dissipated, reissuing a semblance of normalcy to the abused vessel. Gesa's attention was summoned by a chime from her now responsive gauntlet. Its communication array lit with an incoming signal from her fellow Admiral. Indra reported no casualties on the surface of Golgotha. The newly appointed Captain Shuhei emerged from her watch over the prisoners three months ahead of her term's culmination, confused as to why the tower had been summoned without prior notice. Fortunately, Admiral Hail, with his 'immaculate' people skills, had filled the novitiate Captain in on the events that proceeded her ascent, promptly returning her to the infernal depths to endure the remaining months of her duty. Despite avoiding a containment breach of their most secured facility, five of the seven Pirate Lords responsible for the recent calamitous events had evaded capture, disappearing in what could only be described as an act in defiance of physics. Their respective vessels no longer appeared on any scans, nor flagged up on any of the Beleth system's detection apparatus. It seemed the damage sustained by the Eureka was too grave to facilitate the planned assault and thus abandoned at the final hurdle. Indra reported to Gesa his suspicions at the ease with which the enemy had forsaken their grand designs. A plan likely in the works for decades, the sacrifice of two of their highest ranked comrades and discarding the most potent Naval vessel ever constructed, none of it sat right with Indra, and Hail echoed his concerns. Though thankful the fighting was over, Gesa, too, battled with uncertainties regarding the attack. As she departed the Eureka, surrendering Kaligan to the Sect's custody and taking Noctei directly to Indra as instructed, she feared their triumph may have been something else entirely.

  IV

  Several years later...

  It was Lanic's first day reinstated among the Naval ranks. Novice engineer was his title, and he would report directly to Chief Engineer Zyre aboard the Hyacinth for his induction. Despite a reputation for his hypothesized role in the event now known as the Eureka Calamity, his legend as a craftsman awarded him a semblance of respect. Instead of being the most hated man on the station, he was elevated to one of the most keenly disliked, which suited him just fine. Lanic blamed himself for the tragedy and would not rest until he could rebalance the scales by performing his allocated duty to the best of his ability. It was on this day, his inaugural expedition into this fresh chapter of his life, that the two of them met.

  As Lanic approached Zyre, eager to be put to work, he received a task for which he thought himself thoroughly unfit.

  "Finally, the babysitter has arrived." Sighed Zyre, looking down at the small boy who clung to the overalls of his leg. "Another Calamity orphan. Every department has to take one or two. Vocational training. Nothing too hectic. Tool monkeys, really." After the event, thousands were orphaned. With insufficient homes, schools, or recourses, placing the young in the capable hands of the station's professional caste seemed the most agreeable option.

  Only possessing six or seven cycles in those curious brown eyes, the young boy was barely strong enough to pick up a wrench. Lanic bent down, offering the boy one of his newly mechanized limbs. He tilted the Nanoalloy shell under the spotlights, coaxing the frightened child from hiding and out into the open. The boy ran his fingers over the grooves and bolts that comprised the prosthetic, curiosity dowsing his fear.

  "I'm Lanic. Looks like we're gonna be partners." He said, offering the lad what may have been his first handshake. After a few moments of hesitation, Lanic's giant smile disarmed the boy long enough to coax a single word. Soran.