This reputation explained the look of dread that adorned Kay’s face as she and Galant approached the scene of a rooftop shoot out that transpired the night before. Just that morning, while passing through the system purely through coincidence, she received a report about an incident involving the Inquisition and known associates of Bas Swarr. Not only was Kay uneasy about having to deal with her captain’s reputation, her stomach turned at the mere notion of having to deal with the notoriously difficult Inquisition. While the PDM and the Inquisition were officially allied with one another under Union law, acting as separate but equal protection agencies, most within the PDM felt that the Inquisition regularly overstepped its limitations. After reading the brief report that morning, Kay was positive this was yet another situation where the Inquisition decided to take matters into its own hands.

“I know how you feel about these guys,” Kay said to Galant, who was already showing signs of annoyance. “The last thing either one of us needs is being put on their naughty list.”

“I’d welcome it,” Galant snarled. “I’d be a damned honor to know that I pissed them off to the point of becoming an ‘Enemy of Pharaoh.’ Knowing that a dead Zeroan is shaking his rotting head in disgust at me is hilarious.”

“Then do it for me, will ya? I don’t do the iconoclastic thing. I like to keep things on the down low. That kinda helps when it comes to keeping the peace.”

LeGalant huffed and nodded his head in reluctant agreement. “But if these Zeroan apologists make the first move…”

“I know, I know. You’ll rip them a new one and then some. I’ve heard it before.”

As Kay and Galant arrived on the rooftop, they found a large gunship, painted in the Inquisition’s traditional silver and red colors, broken into several large pieces scattered about the scene. The investigation was well under way, with a mixture of local PDM officers and Church officials gathering evidence and the like. One of the senior PDM officers on the scene noticed Kay and Galant and made her way over to greet them.

“Vickie Olivier, commanding officer here in the Ul-Erah system,” she said, shaking Kay and Galant’s hands. “Glad you happened by as you did. We have a bit of a situation here.”

“Other than a crashed Church ship and a few bandits on the run?” Kay asked earnestly.

Olivier glanced over to the Church officials examining the downed gunship with suspicion. “Thinks look fine out here, but our mediator’s having a hell of a time dealing with the Inquisition after last night’s attack. The Inquisitional agent who was involved in the attack insists on taking another Church official into custody. The agent claims the individual aided the suspects in escaping. Unfortunately for the Inquisition, said Church official turned herself in to the PDM first, legally placing her under our protection. This isn’t sitting well with any of the Inquisition officials who arrived earlier in the day. If we don’t get things situated, we’re going to have a PR nightmare on our hands since Ul-Erah is a fairly devout system.”

Galant smiled, knowing that his inborn loathing for the Church would be able to present itself in full force. “We’d be happy to assist you with this.”

Kay nodded with a sigh, her stomach turning even more so than before.

—

Saying that the Ul-Erah system was devout to Pharaoh and the Church would do a disservice to the system’s overwhelming faith. In the center of Ul-Benes, the system’s capital and main starport, stood Pharaoh’s Lift. The Lift was a famous religious monument that testified to Pharaoh’s ability to reach across the universe and see all of his subjects. The structure consisted of a delicately-constructed, seemingly fragile, two hundred story spire, atop which rested a modest but spacious temple. As Kay and Galant rode in a PDM hovercraft to the top of the spire, Kay’s stomach felt the effects of the spire’s intimidating presence.

As the craft touched down on the temple’s small launching pad, a slender reptile, dressed in clothing far nicer than that of the average PDM officer, stepped out of the building and hurried up to greet Kay and Galant. “Doubt you’re going to have any more luck than me,” he said in an irritated tone, “but at least I’ll have a few more faces around me to ease the blows. Especially you, Galant. I know your loathing for the Church all too well, and I can’t wait to see you try to keep a straight face.”

Galant said nothing in response and smiled broadly, a smile that only make Kay’s mood worse.

The three entered through the temple’s main entrance and worked their way into the central prayer hall. Light was filtered in through several small windows, and the light from these windows was focused by a series of mirrors and lenses across the ceiling, causing the room to be lit in an etherial glow. At the front of the hall, the usual adornments for services had been removed, and in their place was a large wooden table. One side of the table was filled with five Inquisition officials, while the opposing side was vacant, with three empty seats awaiting Kay, Galant, and the reptile.

“At last, more voices to be heard!” the golem sitting in the middle of the table said in a bellowing, friendly tone. “Sit, sit! We have much to discuss!”

The three PDM officers sat down in the empty seats, with Kay taking the chair directly across from the golem. “Right. About this Church official who…”

The golem chuckled. “Oh, that? Forget about that. She was never of any consequence.”

“What the fuck?!” Katrina yelled from her seat at the end of the Church side of the table. “That bitch killed my pilot, wrecked my shit, helped a convicted heretic escape, and nearly offed me in the fucking process! We’ve been arguing for five hours with this damned abomination about getting a hold of Hope, only for you to let her go when two more of his mongrel friends show up?”

Galant started to rise to his feet, but a combination of Kay gripping his wrist and the golem giving Katrina a stern glare caused Galant to retake his seat. Galant gritted his teeth, giving Marlow a glare that rivaled the golem’s.

“That is indeed the case, Inquisitor Marlowe,” the golem said as he cast his gaze away from Katrina. “While we initially wanted to bring in Sister Hope for questioning, in the middle of talks with our mediator friend, Hope willingly divulged information to one of our friendlier agents that was of more importance than her abetting a heretic. Instead of revealing the proverbial hand and losing the advantage in the situation, we merely waiting until the appropriate moment to reveal our new intent.”

Katrina stood up and began storming out of the prayer hall. “Playing with me like I’m a fucking abomination pet! Fuck this political shit!”

Galant laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve agreed with Inquisition scum. Can the political maneuvering and get to the gist. You wouldn’t bring us here unless you had some ulterior motive, preferably one that gets us what we want while getting you more in the process.”

The golem’s dark eyes narrowed. “If you wish to cut through the pleasantries, yes, that is exactly why you are here. Sister Hope, due to her close association with Johnny Black and his so-called ‘archaeologist’ associates, was privy to information of great importance to the Church. After their encounter last night, in the midst of informal small talk, Mr. Black told Sister Hope of the existence of a vial of rare, aged Zeroan blood retrieved from one of the lesser temples of Sobek. While Sister Hope did not know who last possessed the blood, she knew that Johnny would be contacted as soon as the whereabouts were known.”

“And since you know we want Bas Swarr,” Kay interjected, “you want us to try and retrieve this blood for you while we’re on the job.”

“We are merely interested in this blood for historical preservation reasons,” the golem said in mock sincerity, “but if you were to acquire it in the process of completing your job, the Inquisition, and the Church as a whole, would be thankful not only to you but the PDM in general. Think of it as a token of good will between uneasy friends.”

Galant gritted his teeth. “And if we don’t go about this mission of brotherly love, we might receive a visit from your foul-mouthed lap pet that just made her leave?”

“If you grace us with such a gift, the next time you see my ‘pet,’ it won’t be at the wrong end of a cannon,” the golem said, smiling.

Galant growled, but Kay spoke up before he could escalate the already tense situation. “We’re always willing to help a friend in need. Rub my back, rub your back, everyone is a happy camper!”

“Then it is settled!” the golem said, his voice returning to a more jovial tone. “Now then, friends, shall we dine together? The sisters in the kitchen cook an excellent grum fillet.”

Kay, Galant, and the silent reptile stood up, almost in unison. “No thanks,” Galant said in a mockingly polite fashion, “the help shouldn’t be seen dining with the family.” The three made their exit, returning to the launching pad where their craft was waiting.

“And I thought I was being played,” the reptile said, trying to make light of the situation. “Let me know if either one of you…”

Galant turned around, balling his right hand into a fist, and crushed the reptile’s nose with a violent punch. The reptile crashed to the ground, his face oozing reddish-purple blood. Galant’s looked down at the reptile, his face shaking with impassioned rage. Galant let his stare sit for several seconds before turning around, disgusted.

Our Own Enemies will resume Sunday.

The masks, which adorned many of the ancient burial sites, temples, and ruins across the world, were capable of disintegrating a man in an instant at the height of Pharaoh’s power. With Pharaoh’s death a few decades ago, that power had dissipated, giving unaware explorers a chance of survival and allowing astute ones a chance to exploit their waning might.

Fortunately for the seventh “Billy,” who had just stepped past Mack and into the range of the masks, said power had finally been depleted. Billy Seven, as he had been dubbed by Bas, had been specifically hired to act as the proverbial “kambing to the slaughter.” Nothing more than mask fodder that lucked out.

“Guess someone else’s Billies have been here since the last time I dropped by,” Mack mused under his breath.

Billy turned around and gave his employer an inquisitive look. “Other Billies? What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Mack chortled. “Just take a look at those inscriptions up ahead like we talked about.”

On the off-chance that the current Billy made it past the “kambing” phase of the job, Mack made sure that he hired someone who had at least passing knowledge in Zeroan inscriptions. Turned out that the current Billy was an amateur Zeroan calligrapher who had a particular interest in the ancient forms. It was the perfect skill to help decipher the password needed to open The Maw of Jonah.

“What’s that scribbling on the wall say?” Mack said with a hint of amusement.

“Min dek tarha veri.” Billy said after a few moments of contemplation. “When translated, it says ‘Speak fr…’”

“Door’s open,” Mack remarked as he watched the The Maw quietly open on its own volition.

Billy looked up at the door, surprised to see it already opening. “Huh. Well, wonder what the password was anyway?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Mack said as he stepped behind Billy, motioning for him to go on through the door. “The door’s open. Let’s go in.”

Billy shrugged. “Ah… sure. Let’s.”

Written by Updatedude/Gigs/Q. Edited by Landon.

“Thanks!” Farah yelled back as she ducked behind an abandoned vehicle, avoiding a hail of bullets. “And I loved the present! I’m surprised you remembered!”

Johnny and Farah darted across the sidewalk and into a narrow alley, narrowly avoiding a barrage of gunfire. As they ducked into the alley, a door quietly opened, revealing a hand that motioned for them. Johnny and Farah quickly ran to the door and slipped in.

“If you two would stop acting like this was a date and start acting like this is a life and death situation,” a female voice said as Johnny and Farah closed the door behind them, “the three of us will have a better chance of making it out of this situation alive.”

“Sorry, Hope,” Johnny said, catching his breath and reloading his gun, “but before you interrupted us we kind of were on a date. You can forgive us for still wanting to make small talk.”

A woman adorned in the standard vestments of a Church sister stepped out of the shadows and smirked at Johnny. “For a man who has seen his fair share of combat and survived this long, I am certainly shocked to hear you make such an emotional statement in such a situation. I always assumed you were the level-headed one of the crew.”

“He still is,” Farah interjected, “at least most of the time. But in his old age I think he’s starting to lose his edge.”

“Hey now!” Johnny said in mock offense, “Since when are the late thirties old?”

“Ever since…” Hope began to respond to Johnny’s remark when she heard the faint, familiar hum of a Inquisition assault craft outside. Johnny saw Hope’s expression shift and grabbed Farah, dragging her to the floor. Gunfire spilled into the building, shattering the windows. The glass started to fly in Johnny and Farah’s direction, and Johnny threw his body on top of Farah to shield her. Seeing this, Hope whispered a word and thrust her right arm out violently in the direction of the flying glass, palm first. The glass suddenly shifted course, flying in the direction of Hope’s arm movement and imbedding itself in the nearby wall.

“This is your last fucking warning, Johnny!” a female voice snarled from outside, amplified by a speaker. “Be a good little shit and surrender. Your little Church skank won’t make it out of this unscathed, but at least your current slut’ll get out of this with little more than a token torture session. Do it for the bitches, Johnny, we know how you love them!”

Hope looked at Johnny. Johnny knew the look, having known Hope for numerous years. The look told him that none of them were making it out of this alive if he gave up. Johnny motioned his head over to the stairwell, and the three of them quietly made their way across the room.

“You have one minute!” the same voiced declared. “After that, we’re fire bombing the fuck out of this whole block. And don’t think we’re above killing innocents to just get one bastard and his disease-riddled harem. The Inquisition’s above the fucking law. The Inquisition is Pharaoh’s law!”

Johnny, Farah, and Hope continued to climb up the stairs. As they reached the door, they stopped, waiting for the right moment to burst onto the roof.

“Thirty seconds, kids! Do the right thing, Johnny. You don’t want to see this whole block burn. You don’t want to see a repeat of Mission Akt, do you? All those innocents dying while you watch helplessly? What would your old friends say if he knew you let something like that happen again? They’d say you’re a fucking coward! Ten seconds! Nine, eight, seven…”

—

“…six? Twenty-six years old?” Johnny said, honestly surprised. “I would have pegged you for twenty three at most.”

“A pilot as good as me being that young?” Farah responded, genuinely flattered. “Not that twenty-six is that much older, but those three years make a lot of difference. Besides, everything I’ve been through, I feel a damn good bit older.”

Farah never intended for her birthday dinner to become a fairly intimate date with Johnny. The entire crew was supposed to go out that night for a little food, a little wine, and a lot of post-dinner bar-hopping, but one by one Bas, Mack, and Aleister canceled their plans, claiming to have “more important business.” It made sense for Bas and Mack to cancel, since both were known for skipping out when their whims drifted, but when Aleister canceled, Farah knew that there was a concentrated effort to get her and Johnny alone. Aleister would never pass up a chance for free booze unless he had an ulterior motive.

Then again, Aleister seemed reluctant to cancel, and Farah had seen his eye wander her way more than once, so his pulling out may have been far less selfless. Regardless, bailing on her birthday was probably the nicest thing any of them could have done for her.

“Don’t go around saying things like that,” Johnny said assuringly. “At least wait until you’re my age before you start making ‘I feel older than I am’ cracks.”

“And exactly how old are you, mister gunslinger?”

“Old enough. Not old, mind you, but old enough. All I’ll say is that I’m older than Al.”

Farah smirked. “Seeing how Al is, what, thirty-four…” Farah’s smirk turned into full-bourn laughter. “Damn, you’re old!”

“Yes. Our dear friend John is certainly getting along,” a feminine voice said. A woman dressed in Church vestments sat down at one of the seats left unoccupied by Johnny and Farah’s crewmates. “But I can personally vouch for him. Not old, just old enough to be a thorough troublemaker.”

“And you are?” Farah asked of the woman, clearly annoyed that another woman interrupted her first chance to sit down and converse with Johnny in a non-work environment.

“Sister Hope. I am…”

“She’s an old associate of mine,” Johnny interrupted, his face a mix of surprise and concern. “Traveled with Al and I for a brief amount of time some years ago.”

“And I am no one you need to fear when it comes to this scoundrel’s affections,” Hope added, giving Farah a look of genuine empathy. “But you do have other reasons to fear my presence.” Hope closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer.

—

“One mile from target, Katrina. We’re going into silent hover mode.”

An Inquisition gunship floated over the skyline, using a combination of cloud cover and a silent propulsion engine to disguise its presence. The craft’s side door was fully open, and standing at the edge was a finely dressed woman, her elegant formal wear unbefitting of a Church assassin. She lifted a pair of high-powered binoculars to her eyes and peered off into the distance.

“This is fucking beautiful!” Katrina snarled into her headset. “Full-on fucking brilliant! This almost makes up for being called away from that University Gala. Not only do I get to off some nosy archaeologist fucker, I get to tag one of Tanin’s skanky stooges. Lovely shit, this is!”

“That would not be advised, Inquisitor Marlowe,” a voice stated coldly over the headset. “Unless you wish to have your name brought up the next time the Heresy Committee convenes, do not eliminate any target other than Mr. Black.”

“So this isn’t an all-purge situation?” Kartria said disappointedly. “Don’t want to go pissing off a fucking Sovereign unless you have to?”

“The woman is not to be killed, unless necessary,” the cold voice answered with no change in its tone. “Also, leave the sister alive, if at all possible, but send a message to Sovereign Tanin. A lost limb, perhaps? Or a severed spine?”

“Damn cold,” Marlowe said with a devious grin. “I’m starting to like the direction this job is heading. Off the heretic and make the bitches wish they followed him into death.”

Marlowe lifted a massive cannon to her shoulder. The gun was at least seven feet long, and while sleek and narrow in design, it was certainly of considerable weight. A targeting camera extended from the top of the cannon, automatically adjusting itself to Katrina’s eyes. Through the camera, Katrina could clearly see through the restaurant window a mile away.

She adjusted her aim, training it squarely to Johnny’s heart, and fired.

—

Johnny watched as a small explosion went off in the sky a few feet away from the restaurant’s window.

“And that would be said reason,” Hope said in a calm and concerned tone. “I’d suggest we run.”

Johnny grabbed Farah’s hand and started to bolt for the door. Farah, shocked at the current development, hesitated for a moment after Johnny took her hand, but quickly came to her senses and followed.

“I didn’t even get to have any cake,” Farah said dejectedly as she rushed out the back entrance and into the busy streets.

—

“Ten seconds! Nine, eight, seven…”

Johnny kicked down the door leading to the roof and immediately streaked across the rooftop. Katrina still standing at the edge of the gunship, began to flood the roof with gunfire from her sleek rifle. With Johnny drawing her fire, Hope and Farah used the opportunity to run for cover, taking refuge behind a ventilation shaft. Katrina took notice of this and fired several shots in their direction.

With his opponent’s attention now elsewhere, Johnny ran directly under the gunship, firing several bullets up into the cockpit. The gunship’s pilot slumped over the controls, sending the ship into a dive towards the roof. Katrina leaped out of the ship with relative ease before the ship crashed, but the resulting impact sent Johnny rolling off the edge of the building, where he grasped onto the ledge to keep himself from plummeting several stories to his death.

“Fair fucking exchange, I say,” Katrina laughed, dropping her massive rifle in exchange for a smaller automatic pistol at her side. “A grunt pilot and a replaceable ship for one fucking dead heretic. I could quote the obvious passage about balance even in death, but I’m sure you’ve already recited it to yourself, Mr. Black.” Katrina started to stroll over to he ledge where Johnny had yet to have the chance to lift himself to safety.

“While that would be entirely appropriate,” Hope said as she came out from her cover, “you also fail to take into account the other obvious passage. ‘Even a fallen enemy is worthy of being lifted to his feet, even if to grant him a proper death.’ Unfortunately, the Inquisition is just as guilty of ignoring key texts as anyone else in the Church.”

Katrina spun around and fired several shots in Hope’s direction. Hope whispered another prayer and waved her hands. Several of the bullets harmlessly dropped to the ground, caught in the wake of her prayer’s power, but two bullets continued past her defense, ripping two holes in Hope’s left thigh.

“Sometimes the Inquisition is even above Pharaoh’s law.” Katrina spouted as she walked towards Hope, who was now laying on the ground. “With the bastard dead, I don’t feel the least bit of fucking regret when I spit on his words.” Katrina casually fired several bullets behind her back as a warning to Johnny, who had managed to lift himself back onto the roof while Katrina was preoccupied with Hope.

Farah had a clear line of sight to Johnny from behind her cover. She glared at him from her position, then looked down at his side where one of his guns was holstered. Johnny refused to return her look, but Farah was positive he understood her. Of everyone on the crew, she knew that Johnny understood her the most and would be able to “read” her.

With a certain amount of faith, Farah bolted towards Johnny. Katrina initially trained her gun on Farah, but when she saw that Farah was unarmed, she turned her gun back to Johnny. As he saw Farah begin her move, Johnny leveled the gun already in his hands at Katrina, acting as if he were ready to fire. With his aim set, Johnny hesitated a moment before drawing his other gun from its holster and tossing it to Farah.

Katrina fired at Johnny, intending to hit him in the stomach, but as she pulled the trigger the bullet immediately dropped to the ground, swatted away by means of Hope’s prayer. This distraction allowed Farah to catch Johnny’s gun and fire at Katrina, and her bullet met its mark. The bullet lodged itself into Katrina’s left forearm, causing her to immediately drop her gun. Following Farah’s lead, Johnny fired into Katrina’s forearm as well, his bullet all but cleaving her lower arm at the elbow.

Katrina began screaming. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! Fuck!” She struggled to her knees, a panicked look in her eyes as she saw Farah and Johnny approach her. “Fuck no. I’m not going out like some limp dick that can’t even get up. You bitches aren’t going to get that satisfaction.” Katrina pulled out a small device from a pouch at her waist and pressed a button. Assuming it was a bomb, Farah pushed Johnny to the ground, returning the favor he did her earlier by attempting to cover him from any oncoming explosion. Instead of hearing an explosion, all they heard was a faint crackling sound as Katrina vanished from view amiss an electrical haze.

Still leaning over Johnny, Farah looked into his eyes and kissed him.

“Worst birthday ever.”

“A fiver says that’s Bas and Farah to the rescue,” Aleister said smugly.

“That’s hardly the kind of bet I’d like to go against,” Johnny responded in kind.

As Johnny and Aleister made small talk about their inevitable rescue, the shouting coming from the hallway outside of their cell became more pronounced.

“Ulric! You take point at the brig entrance! Helen! You’re back here with me! We have to make sure she doesn’t get to these two! If she does, we’re royally screwed!”

Two Armada guards ran up to the front of the cell. The pair stood at opposite ends of the cell’s bars, with the female, Helen, standing closest to Aleister.

“Damn this shit, Fabian!” Helen barked at the other guard standing at the cell. “I thought Todd said this was a routine kidnapping? “Simple in and out, no combat that Todd and Kelen couldn’t handle on their own. If I’d known this crap’d lead to a full-on mid-flight boarding against us, I’d have never given my vote to this damn mission.”

“Can’t know all of the details every time, Helen. Sucks when we end up in these sorts of situations, but can you really deny the beauty of democratic piracy? Those fucking Three Queens lackeys can’t make that same boast.”

“Fuck the Queens! And, yeah, I can deny the shit out of your beauty, especially when we’re having to defend our own ship from some half-crazed jewel thieves with a suicidal streak!”

Aleister and Johnny, who until now had been keeping their mouths shut, looked at each other and started to chuckle. Helen pointed her gun squarely at Aleister’s head and fired, allowing the bullet to be caught in the cell’s protective field before dropping harmlessly to the ground.

“Laugh all you want, asshole.” Helen said as she retrained her gun towards the entrance to the brig. “Once we’re done with your little kitten friend, you’ll be back on your way to being Rosa’s new plaything. Any laughing you’ll be making then will be at her command.”

“When you put it that way,” Aleister said, still chuckling, “you make it sound kinda exciting.”

“He does like the kinky stuff,” Johnny added. “You should see the stash under his bed.”

“Yeah, babe. If you just put that gun down now, I’ll show you my…” Helen, visibly flustered by Aleister’s comments, spun her gun around and fired a series of shots in Aleister’s direction, all of which impotently fell to the ground.

“Helen! Keep your attention on the doorway! These bastards are just trying to distract you from your job.”

Gunfire could be heard just outside of the brig, and Ulric, the pointman, suddenly dropped to the ground. A large knife could be seen protruding from his throat, and a feline arm reached around the doorway and almost sensually pulled it from it’s lodging place.

“She’s one of my favorites.” Bas purred from behind the cover of the wall. “Can’t let her go to waste on trash like this.”

Helen began firing aimlessly towards Bas. “Fucking bitch! Come out from there so I can give you a few new eye sockets!”

“Hold your fire!” Fabian shouted at his out-of-control companion. “You’ve already wasted enough ammo as it is, and we’re both on our last clips.”

“Now that’s a development.” Bas cooed from his hiding place. “How many rounds do you think she has left, Alsy-poo?”

“By my count, since I bet she reloaded before coming in here to guard us, she has 15. Maybe 14.”

“Maybe!?” Bas hissed. “Is that a real maybe or an trademark Al, ‘let’s fuck with the kitty’ maybe.”

Aleister shrugged. “Both?”

Bas growled, and she darted past the opening into the brig to the other side of the doorway. While Fabian only fired a handful of rounds in what he knew was an improbable chance to hit Bas, Helen depleted the majority of her remaining rounds.

“That should do it, Bas,” Johnny shouted. “Any more taunting and you’ll just make yourself a bigger bitch than usual.”

Helen and Fabian readied themselves for the incoming assault. Fabian remained cool-headed, his eyes closed as if trying to feel when Bas would strike. Helen breathed heavily, her trigger finger twitching in anticipating of firing off its last few rounds.

Fabian’s eyes shot open.

“No…”

Fabian’s senses were a split second off, and before he could announce the attack a knife fond itself buried in his left eye socket.

Bas came streaking down the hallway, each hand brandishing a large knife. Helen fired her remaining rounds, each of which was soundly dodged or reflected by Bas’ blades. Bas reached Helen and sliced ferociously towards her neck. Much to Bas’ surprise, Helen blocked the incoming assault with her assault rifle, and returned the favor by delivering a sweeping kick to Bas’ legs, knocking Bas to the ground.

Bas recovered quickly, and kicked Helen several squarely in the chest while springing up off of the ground. Pushing off of Helen’s chest, Bas flipped in the air and tossed two of her throwing knives at her target. Helen blocked one of them with her rifle, the blade sinking into the metal, but the other caught Helen in the right shoulder. Her foe shaken by the wound, Bas sprinted forward, slicing upwards with her left hand blade and lunging forward with the right. Helen sidestepped the lunge, but the upwards strike caught her across the neck, leaving a shallow, diagonal gash.

Doing her best to ignore her wounds, Helen swung her rifle like a bat, aiming for Bas’ head. Bas ducked the strike easily, but again she found herself underestimating her opponent as Helen lunged forward and kneed Bas in the gut. While close to her opponent, Helen dropped her rifle and grabbed Bas around the waist. Helen lifted Bas off of the ground and used her momentum to toss Bas into a suplex throw. Bas knew what was coming, and managed to prop one arm up before her head hit the hard metallic floor. This threw Helen off balance, and Bas spun about on her outstretched arm before leaping up and regaining her footing.

Helen scurried along the floor, trying to distance herself from Bas before picking herself up off the ground. But as Helen finally managed to get back on her feet, Bas casually tossed a knife directly into her chest, impaling her heart.

“You had some moves,” Bas said as she sauntered over to Helen’s prone body, “shame it has to end like this, eh?” Bas leaned over Helen, gasped the hilt of the blade with a soft grip, and gently pulled it out of Helen’s chest.

—

“Fabian’s squad isn’t responding,” one of Todd’s guards said grimly. “I think it’s safe to say that the cargo has been hijacked.”

“So soon?” Todd said with disappointment as he briskly walked down the hallway leading to the brig. “You can never trust people to live the proper amount of time, can you?”

The guard, unable to respond to such a nihilistic comment, simply nodded in false agreement while the group rounded the corner that led to the brig. As they rounded the corner, voices could be heard coming from the brig.

“Perhaps I judged Fabian’s staying power too soon, “Todd remarked as he recognized the voices coming from the brig as those of his “cargo.” “I see that I get to have my wish after all!” Todd boasted as he dashed into the brig, his cloak flourishing in the wake of his movement. “I trust you stayed aboard my ship for a few more moments just to see to my whims?”

“Whatever gets it up for you, Toddsy,” Bas snarled as she brandished her blades. “But all things considered, I’d recommend moving over just a hair.”

Todd thought about Bas’ comment for a moment before realizing what she meant. Todd turned around and attempted to warn his guards as Bas and the rest of the crew dropped to the ground. “Scatter! Now! As far away as you…!” An explosion rocked the wall behind Todd’s guards, sending Todd flying across the brig, knocking him unconscious. The wall where the explosion took place quickly disintegrated, revealing nothing but cold, empty space. Most of Todd’s guards, who were still in the hallway after the explosion, were swept away into the unforgiving abyss before the shield system kicked in, closing off the vacuum.

“Looks like our ride’s here.” Aleister said as he looked out of the gaping hole in the hallway. In the distance, Farah could be seen standing on the stop of their ship, wielding the same rocket launcher that Bas used to enter the ship. She dropped the launcher, picked up the grappling gun, and launched a grappling hook over, lodging it into the back of the brig. On the end of the hook was a large plastic case. On the hook’s impact, the case burst open, revealing four space suits.

“How’d you know Mack’d be on board?” Johnny asked Bas, dumbfounded at seeing that many suits.

“Wasn’t me. Farah insisted on it. She said it was the only logical place for him to be.”

“Indeed it was,” a familiar voice said from around the corner. Mack appeared from around the corner, his clothing sporting various tears and small bloodstains. “Remind me to thank Farah with a nice home cooked meal one of these days.”

After everyone quickly donned their suits, they all latched their belts onto the grappling rope, dislodged the hook from the wall, and proceeded to the hole in the hallway.

“On three?” Aleister said, looking out into space. “One, two, three!” Aleister, Bas, Johnny, and Mack all leaped out of the hole. The instant they crossed the vacuum-blocking field, Farah latched the grappling gun to the hull of their ship and hit the return button, sending the grappling line back into its place and dragging her crewmates back to safety.

—

Todd came back to his senses quickly, only to see his “cargo” leap out of his ship. Undaunted by their escape, Todd laughed to himself. “Things are never that easy, Al. They’re never that easy.” Todd pulled out a comm device from his cloak. “Artillery, target their ship and fire on my command.”

“Sir! Targets are in sight. Cannons are charging. Ten seconds until charging is complete. Five seconds. Four. Three…” The gunner’s countdown was cut off by a cacophony of explosions and screams. “A bomb, sir! There was a…!” The line went dead, most likely due to the explosions enveloping the artillery deck reaching the chief gunner.

Todd’s laughter grew louder, amused at his turn of events.

—

Aleister and his crew stood in amazement as they watched the cruiser’s cannons explode in mid-charge.

“I take it you left them a little gift while you were off playing traitor?” Aleister asked Mack.

Mack shrugged, pretending to have nothing to do with what transpired. “Me? I’d never do such a thing. It must be fate intervening.”

Farah laughed while keeping her attention on the road in front of her. Unlike Bas, who was lounging in the back seat of their rental, Farah had to do actual work and drive to the bar where they were supposed to meet the rest of the crew. “And this was all over…?”

“All over a fucking pair of boots,” Bas said with a laugh. “They were tarnadon-scale boots, mind you, and the last pair on the planet at the time, but fucking boots. Normally I don’t go crazy killer over something so petty, but dammit if they weren’t a damn fine pair of soles. Still have them to this day.”

“Still, remind me to never go shopping with you. I don’t get that much hazard pay.”

Bas playfully pushed the back of Farah’s seat with her foot. “You know we’re tight, like sisters.”

Farah shuddered at that suggestion. “Knowing your family, I can’t take that as a compliment.”

“Cousins, then? Whatever, you know what I… what the hell!?” Bas shot forward from her position in the back seat, landing in the passenger side of the front. “Tell me that isn’t who I think it is.”

“I have no problem lying to you. It isn’t who you think it is.”

In front of the bar where they were supposed to meet Aleister and the others, a extra-large luxury vehicle was parked. The body was painted in the signature color of the Black Star Armada captain Todd the Red.

“Looks like Rosa’s finally had her little bro track down Al.” Bas said, trying to hide her amusement. “Kinda serves him right if you ask me.”

“As much as I’d like to agree with you,” Farah added as she pulled their rental down a nearby alleyway, “we also have to worry about Johnny and Mack.”

“Mack?” Bas asked. “Really? Mack?”

Farah chuckled to herself. “Well, we have Johnny to worry about. And if Al doesn’t get out of there alive, who’s going to pay me for this gig? He has all of the bank account numbers.”

“True that. Get the binoculars.”

Farah and Bas broke into an abandoned warehouse caddy corner to the bar and set up shop. By the time they were in a position to peer into the bar, the fight was already under way.

“Damn. Al’s already out cold.” Farah began to head towards the door, clearly intent on going down there and trying to do something about the fight, but Bas grabbed her and pulled her back to the window.

“Not yet. They’d be expecting us to jump in right about now. You gotta learn the element of surprise or someone’ll prematurely make that pretty little ass of yours into worm chum.”

“Fine,” Farah said reluctantly. “At least Johnny looks like he can handle it. He’s usually the one that… damn. That rat packs a wallop. Never mind about Johnny being the reliable one.”

“You see Mack yet?” Bas asked. “Not that I particularly care or anything, but I’m still curious.”

“Nope, no sign of him. He probably booked it out of there in order to avoid paying the bill long before the fight broke out. Bastard.”

“Get a load of this. Todd’s leaning over Al. Probably gloating or whatever, but from this angle it looks like he’s snogging Al while he’s knocked out.”

“What!? Where!?” Farah quickly panned her binoculars to Todd’s position and laughed under her breath. “Yeah…”

The two watched as Todd and Kelen, his rodent associate, dragged the unconscious bodies of Johnny and Aleister into the trunk of the luxury vehicle.

“So, I assume the plan is to wait for them to get out on the road and make the bust then?” Farah asked as she gathered up their surveillance equipment.

“Not quite.” Bas said with a smile. “Not even close.”

“We wait for them to get to Todd’s cruiser and rescue them while they’re loading them on board?”

“You were close when you said ‘cruiser,’ but still cold.”

“No. No no no. The last time we tried that I nearly crashed the…”

“Trust me, girl. It’ll work this time.”

—

Aleister slowly came back to his senses, only to find himself shackled to a cold metal wall in what looked to be your standard Black Armada holding cell. Across from him in his cell, as he expected, was Johnny in the same predicament. What he didn’t expect to see was Mack bound in a similar manner.

“Glad to see you finally came back to us.” Mack said casually, as he was far too used to being shackled by energy bonds.

“What the hell? I thought you slipped out the back long before Todd showed up. When did they nab you?”

Mack laughed. “They got me the instant I hopped out the back window. There were a few Black Stars waiting for someone to pull the old back door routine and I fell for it. So it goes.”

“So much for slippery and discreet.” Johnny said, having woken up in the middle of Aleister and Mack’s conversation.

“I wouldn’t make such a bold claim just yet,” a voice said from outside the cell.

“Come to have a little fun before you turn us over to your big sister, Todd?” Aleister said tauntingly. “What’ll it be? Gravity crushing? Sensory deprivation? Or maybe just an old school beat down by your little beat stick of a friend?”

Todd brushed the hair out of his face and laughed. “No. None of that, I’m afraid. At least not for you, Al. My sister wants you in one piece so she can do far worse things than I could ever conjure. No. I’m here to tell your good pal Mack that I’ve accepted his offer of clemency.” Todd motioned for his guards to release Mack from his bonds.

“Got caught while escaping out back, Mack?” Johnny said sarcastically. “That wouldn’t happen to be Mack-ese for ‘sold us out and tried to make it look like a coincidence,’ would it?”

Mack shrugged and shook his wrists now that he was free of his bonds. “Does it really matter if I backstabbed you before or after the fact?”

—

“Before we do this,” Farah said meekly as she sat at the helm of the gang’s ship, “are you sure we can’t just wait for them to touch down and take them out then?”

“What’d I say about the element of surprise?” Bas said as she walked on the outside of the ship in a magnetized space suit. “Only the most hardcore PDMers would dare to take on a Armada cruiser while it’s out in space. It’s fucking suicide. That’s why we’ll pull it off, because those bastards won’t see it coming.”

Farah sighed and shook her head. “Other than picking us up on their sensors, you mean. My jamming signal’ll only last so long before they notice what’s up. And once that happens we’ll be primed for their laser barrage.”

“Trust me, girl. Todd wouldn’t dare gun us down when he could have us board his ship and face him one-on-one. You could say he has a fetish for single combat. You just get this baby close enough so I can work my magic. You do that and everything’ll fall into place.”

—

Todd, Mack and an entourage of guards entered the cruiser’s bridge. As Todd approached his captain’s chair, Kelen walked over to him, a concern look adoring his face.

“We’ve lost our cameras and sensors for the past five minutes.” Kelen said, doing his best to keep his booming voice from being heard by the others in the room. “The techies are assuming it’s simply a malfunction, and they’re working on it as we speak.”

“I doubt it’s something as coincidental as that.” Mack said, his keen ears hearing through Kelen’s attempt to mask the situation. “I’d be willing to bet that my other, former associates are on their way as we speak. Bas probably thinks she can board the ship before you notice and rescue Al and Johnny with minimum resistance.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Todd added, nodding in agreement with Mack’s assessment. “And we’ll let them do just that. I do love the direct types.”

Kelen’s face showed visible concern, but despite his misgivings he nodded in agreement as well. “I’ll man the helm while you deal with the feline pest. And I’ll look after our…” Kelen gave Mack a distrusting glance, “new business partner and make sure he doesn’t get caught in the crossfire.”

“Keen thinking, Kelen. And should anyone dare make a detour to the bridge, you’ll be waiting to deal with them personally.” Todd furled his cape and marched off to the detention block with his entourage of guards.

—

“Coming into range, Bas.” Farah said uneasily. “Within grappling range in five, four three, two…”

Bas leveled a large rocket launcher in the direction of the cruiser. Using the guidance system, Bas carefully aimed for a particular spot along the hull and fired. The rocket streaked through space and blasted a hole into the cruiser’s hull. The ships emergency anti-vacuum shield generator kicked in, minimizing the damage caused by exposing the inside of the ship to the emptiness that is space.

With her entrance created, Bas hit a button on the waist of her suit, and the magnetism coursing through it shut off. Gently floating into space, Bas leveled her grappling gun, pointed it at the hole created by her rocket, and fired. Bas deftly grabbed onto the end of the hook’s cable and allowed it to propel her over to the cruiser.

She was in.

—

“Don’t take this personally,” Kelen told Mack as he sat in Todd’s captain’s chair, “but I don’t like the smell of you.”

Mack looked astonished at this accusation. “What do you have to fear from me? I’m just a relatively innocent fencer and Syndicate contact. I don’t care about who makes me my money or whose side I help, I just care about getting what I want.”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t like your smell,” Kelen replied as he stood up from his seat and began walking over to Mack. “Your’s is the type that gives us outside the law a bad name. No regard for codes or honor or even common decency. You just float along, doing as you please, and not giving a damn about who you hurt in the process.”

“Yep. You have me down to a T,” Mack said, still showing no sign of intimidation or remorse for his actions. “I’m just a lying, scheming, traitorous, honorless…”

Mack vanished from Kelen’s view.

“Backstabbing fiend.” Mack said from behind Kelen, his concealed blade protruding from Kelen’s belly. Mack quickly jerked the blade up along side Kelen’s spine, cleaving the rodent in two with ease. Blood gushed from what used to be Kelen’s torso, and Mack calmly moved out of its trajectory, only allowing a small splatter to hit his left sleeve. The remaining Armada personnel on the bridge stood in shock as their second-in-command slumped to the ground, completely lifeless.

“Now,” Mack said with a dire smile as explosions could be heard from a lower deck, “what to do with you leftovers.”

“When you’ve been around the quad as many times as I have,” Johnny responded, slowly sipping from a cup of crystal clear liquor, “you get a nose for these kinds of things. Felines can see you in pitch darkness, and lupines can sniff you out in a garbage dump, but Johnnies can scrounge up the best dives in the universe.”

Mack, who had been quietly munching on a basket of sautéed kucing fillets, decided to chime in on Johnny’s observation. “You also have a knack for finding the bars most likely to attract people who want to kill us.”

“You must be talking about that little dive on Hessian we hit a few cycles back,” Aleister said, downing another shot. “You can’t blame Johnny for not knowing it was a local after-hours PDM hangout. Granted, that little riot got us a standing warrant in five systems, but that had nothing to do with Johnny’s taste in bars.”

Johnny took a long, slow sip from his cup again before responding to Mack’s claim. “Besides, it isn’t like I do these things intentionally, right Mack?” Johnny gave his friend a sly glance, not-so subtly reminding Mack of certain past exploits of his own.

“You can’t blame a bloke for wanting to explore all of his business opportunities.” Mack said without any hint of guilt. “And I always come running back to your side when those opportunities run dry, so I do have my loyalties.”

“No hard feelings, bud,” Aleister said, downing yet another drink. “You know we’d leave you to die just as quickly as you’d do it to us.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Mack laughed as he slurped down another fillet. “You’d be screaming ‘Mack! Mack! Where are you, Mack!? Boo-hoo, Mack’s gone! What will we ever do!?’”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Al stuttered, already showing signs of drunkenness. “I’m not a cold-hearted rat like you. Damned rat bastard you.”

“Al, you better keep the rat comments on the low-down,” Johnny said cautiously. “Take a look behind us.”

Al quickly turned around, nearly falling out of his chair in the process, and glanced over to the opposite side of the bar. Standing at the entrance was the largest rodent any of them had seen. Standing close to seven feet tall, the rodent would even intimidate many of the largest of golems. To make matters worse, the rat was decked out in rather auspicious colors.

“Oh shit.” Aleister swore, the sight of the rat seeming to shake him out of his drunken stupor. “You recognize those colors, Mack?” Aleister looked over to Mack, who was already entering the men’s room with great haste. “Fuck him.” Aleister groaned, swatting the air in a dismissive motion.

“Take it we want to follow his lead?” Johnny said under his breath. “Mack only moves that fast when someone wants his manhood on a plate.”

“The rat’s obviously Black Star Armada material. No one’d wear a bandanna around their head out in the open in such an non-ironic manner unless they were a pirate. That isn’t the problem. The problem is the color of the bandanna. Or, rather, the shade of that particular color. Bright red. That means only one thing: one of the Red siblings is hanging about.”

“Oh shit,” Johnny swore, repeating Aleister’s sentiment. “They still have that bounty on your head?”

“That crap ran it’s course cycles ago, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind settling things outside of established channels. They’re damned pirates, after all. It’s a miracle they tried to make it legit in the first place.”

“Then we should slip out while the getting’s good.” Johnny and Aleister quietly stood up and began to casually make their way towards the entrance, doing their best to not draw the attention of the massive rodent who was sitting at the bar. Just as they were about to make their exit, a firm hand grabbed Aleister by the back of his shirt and pulled him backwards.

“Figured you two looked like bailers,” their waitress shouted as she thrust their tab into Aleister’s face. “Just for that, I’m tacking on a bailer’s tax. Double the tab, buddy. Pay up or I’ll have Simon over there take it out of your hide.” The waitress motioned over to the other side of the bar, where a burly man without a trace of body hair was standing. The man narrowed smiled in an intimidating way.

“Our friend in the restroom will handle the bill.” Johnny said, stepping up along side Aleister. “He should be coming out shortly.”

“Right. Sure.” The waitress motioned for Simon to check out the restroom. “I hope your friend is wrapping up in there. I’d hate for him to come out here in his skivvies. We have a skivvies tax as well.”

While the argument proceeded, Aleister shot a quick glance over to the rodent sitting at the bar. Much to his relief, the rodent seemed to be content with his food and drink and was paying no attention to what was going on around him. As Aleister refocused his attention on the bickering waitress, Simon exited from the restroom, and Mack was nowhere to be seen. Simon shrugged to the waitress, then looked at Aleister and Johnny and grinned widely.

“Fine. Fine.” Johnny fumbled in his pockets to find his wallet, but as he pulled out a wad of credits a hand extended over his shoulder. In that hand was a crisp 1000 credit bill.

“I will be paying for tonight’s bill, gentlemen,” a cool, assured voice said from behind. Without even looking, Aleister knew full well who was standing at his back, as he recognized the peculiar aroma of the man’s cologne. “And place my friend’s bill on that tab as well.” With that statement, the rodent at the bar stood up and faced Aleister and Johnny.

“Still drowning the stench of blood on your hands in that sweetblossom swill you call cologne, Todd?” Aleister quipped to the man behind him while keeping his focus on the rodent.

“Only the finest fragrances will do to mask the ugliness of my lifestyle, Al. But I wouldn’t expect someone as uncouth as you to appreciate such stylings.”

“And a low-down dive like this does match your tastes?” Aleister said with a good amount of snark.

Todd stepped around from behind Aleister and Johnny and stood at the side of his rodent accomplice. He was adorned in clothing colored the same hue as the rodent’s bandanna, but his were of a distinctly higher quality, unbecoming of his nature as a ruthless Black Star pirate captain. “Sometimes there’s beauty in the mundane, and sometimes one simply has to move about the rabble to get what one needs.” Todd then looked over at the waitress and smiled assuredly as he clasped her hands. “But I assure you that this particular establishment is the former, m’lady.”

The waitress blushed before regaining her composure and huffing in Todd’s direction. “I know where this is going. The lot of you better get out of here before you go about your little gang fight.”

“That is entirely up to my associates.” Todd remarked politely, eyeing Aleister with a sinister look betraying his civilized voice.

Aleister shot a quick glance over to Johnny, who nodded in agreement. “Screw this,” Aleister growled, and swung his fist in the direction of Todd’s face.

In a flash, Todd drew out the twin sabers that were concealed within his flowing red cloak, and in the same motion parried Aleister’s fist between the blades. With a casual flick of both blades, Todd sliced into Aleister’s wrist as he sent Aleister’s arm shooting to the ground, throwing his foe off-balance. This was a cue for Todd’s rodent ally to deliver a brutal uppercut to Aleister’s stomach, sending him flying into the ceiling, shattering several light fixtures with the impact.

As Aleister’s unconscious body careened into the ground, smashing a table in the process, Johnny drew out his pistol in quickdraw fashion. He jumped to the side, out of the range of Todd’s blades, and took aim on the pirate. Johnny fired once, but Todd swung his cloak in the way of the bullet, the reinforced fibers of the cloak stopping the bullet in its tracks. Somewhat surprised at that development, Johnny started running away from his target and firing aimlessly, hoping to distract Todd enough so that he could get a well-placed shot away from the cloak. As he sent bullets flying across the bar, the rodent leaped into the air and grasped onto the light fixtures. His massive form began scurrying across the ceiling, and before Johnny could react the rodent had closed in within striking distance.

Johnny focused his attention on the rodent, pointing his guns into the air, but as he did so the massive beast kicked down from the ceiling, sending Johnny’s gun flying across the room. Without his weapon, Johnny attempted to leap over the rodent, using the wall behind him as a spring board, but as he flew over the head of the rodent he felt himself pulled down to the ground. The rodent slammed Johnny to the ground, knocking him out cold.

“Not the brightest of men, are they Red?” The rodent asked of his captain.

“And we should be thankful of that, Kelen.” Todd laughed, crouching over Aleister’s unconscious body. “If they were any smarter they just might have the best of us.”

That left the Ambermoss system as little more than a residential system known for low taxes and an even lower crime rate. Numerous individuals retired in this system, and families whose money-earners could work remotely found the system to be ideal for their lifestyles.

Suffice it to say, when the DMS Zetsubou arrived in the aftermath of the violent break-in at the local Museum of Antiquities, people weren’t particularly happy that such a despicable act occurred in their sleepy corner of the galaxy.

“The way you hear people bitching about this, you’d think we’re the ones that busted into the joint,” Detective Kay Prachett grumbled as she put on a pair of latex gloves over her well-manicured nails.

“That’s what you get from the middle class,” Detective LeGalant said in his cynical tone. “They forget that the world is a cold, cruel place. They get used to their idyllic lifestyle of row houses and discount markets, and the slightest thing that disrupts their bourgeois lie riles them up like a bunch of nervous crawn.”

Kay put her index finger over her mouth, motioning Galant to keep his voice down. “No need to go into one of your political rants here, especially with them around.” Kay motioned over to the local PDM officers assisting them at the crime scene. “Those guys pretty much ARE what you’re complaining about, so I’d tone it down just a sckooch. Please?”

Galant gritted his lupine teeth and returned to examining the crime scene. “Regardless, they should be thankful, not just for their gilded lives but for the fact that our ship was already in the area. With us on the case things should be resolved with ease.”

“That’s positive thinking!” Kay squeaked. “Although…” She worked her way to the bloodied stain on the ground where the victim was found. “No amount of positive thinking is going to bring that dude back. Security turrets shredded him up good. Poor guy didn’t even have a chance, as if he didn’t see it coming. As far as I can tell, he was standing still. This is a pretty classy system, it’s supposed to recognize if the suspect is complying or resisting. As far as I can tell, the dude wasn’t resisting arrest.”

Galant sniffed about, and his nose tingled when he came across a familiar scent. “I’m sure the dead perp was complying, but his accomplice surely wasn’t. He was with a feline, no doubt about it.”

“The cat probably high-tailed it right as the security system kicked in. Probably knew what to expect and knew how to react, leaving his guy to take the heat, so to speak.” Kay pulled out a small device from her satchel. An infrared laser shot out from the end, and Kay moved this laser across the bloodstained floor. After a few moments the screen on the device lit up, displaying a man’s profile.

“Seems the victim was one Henri DiMedicci.” Kay said with a certain amount of surprise. “What’s a DiMedicci doing on some low-tier heist? That family’s got it made, even has their own nation outside of the Union.”

“Probably another disillusioned aristocrat trying to find his place in the world.” Galant growled. “Apparently his place was in front of a firing squad. Serves him right.”

Kay frowned. “Seriously, dude. Cool it with the political commentary. The boss might be cool with your opinions and all, and I am too, but someone’s going to notice…”

“Notice that your friend, who is supposed to be aiding us in this investigation, has a chip on his shoulder?” A few of the local officers walked over to Kay and LeGalant, visibly irritated by Galant’s comments.

Kay nervously stepped between the group of officers and Galant, her rodent ears sticking straight up in the air. “Yes, that’s what we’re here for. Aiding in the investigation. Don’t mind my partner here. He’s just opinionated. He means nothing by it.”

“It’s bad enough that we aren’t allowed to go about this on our own,” one of the officers commented, “but at least we can understand that. PDM policy is that any starship captain in the local vicinity of a high-grade crime is allowed to intervene. We might not like that, but we can deal with it. What we can’t deal with is said intervening officers coming along and insulting us in our own home, talking like we’re lesser people. And to make matters worse, all of this is coming from an abom…”

Galant snarled and reared up to his full, eight foot height. “And the capitalist scum shows its true face! My words disgust you not because of their political intent, but because they come from an abomination!?” Galant breathed heavily in a clear attempt to calm himself down.

“We just find it ironic that an abomination, of all people, would get a kick out of being so prejudiced. Aren’t you the ones that some people still hunt down for their fur and meat? You’d think you’d understand a little something about hating people for all the wrong reasons.”

“I know all about poachers and skin fetishists. I’ve dealt with their kind, both within the system of the law and in my personal life. And after everything I’ve seen, maybe I find a little justification in my so-called prejudices, since it’s usually people like you who indulge in such sick actions. It’s always the normal, unbecoming individuals, the ones who vocally denounce the acts in public, that end up in court for skinning some poor feline kid for a throw rug or for frying a lizard’s flesh for a banquet. When I see people like that going about their lives as if these horrors never happen, my lupine blood boils with rage. So perhaps you might forgive me for being, as my partner so eloquently put it, opinionated.”

The officers, clearly intimidated, but also clearly more irritated with Galant’s attitude than before, started to return to their assigned duties. “Just think about what you just said, buddy, and put it in perspective,” one of the officers remarked, “not all of us are skin-wearing abomination eaters.”

Kay, who had quietly stepped aside once Galant went feral, stepped to his side and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, bud. This is just one of those situations. Also, one of those guys just found a sample of feline fur and analyzed it. Turns out we have ourselves a wanted felon, one Bas Swarr.”

“I thought that stench was familiar.” Galant snarled. “And with her being the escaped perp, we have more than enough reason to leave this…” Galant measured his words carefully. “This system. I doubt she stayed here long after leaving that DiMedicci kid to die.”

“Yeah.” Kay sighed. “Poor kid. Bad enough that he got minced like that, but to get it because of Bas? Damn lame way to die. Damn lame.”

—

“No kidding, that’s a really damn lame way to die.”

“That’s what I said, Captain Ikari.” Kay said as she finished briefing her ship’s captain on the results of their investigation. “We all but have Bas on murder charges now. The DNA sample, plus the surveillance tapes we confiscated, clearly shows that it was Bas at the scene, and that it was Bas’ fleeing the scene that triggered the turrets to fire on Henri DiMedicci. The PDM prosecutors office can work with that angle and put her away for good, no need to nab her on some namby-pamby robbery charge.”

“That’s… sort of twisting things a bit,” Captain Ikari responded, “but who am I to tell the prosecutors how to do their job? Great idea!”

“Thanks!” Kay said with a big smile. “And with that said, do you think LeGalant and I could, I don’t know, get a little temporary change of assignment so we could, sort of maybe, like, go after Bas? Please?”

“Already processed.” Captain Ikari said as he presented official paperwork detailing Kay and Galant’s new assignment. “I could only negotiate a cycle’s worth of reassignment for the two of you, after which things will be turned over to another department. You know how these things go.”

“Don’t worry, Cap. Gally and I will get this done in half that time. I promise!” Kay flashed a thumbs-up to her commanding officer, which he enthusiastically returned in kind as she exited his office. As Kay reached for the door handle, Captain Ikari called her back.

“By the way, about Galant. I heard about his… conversation with the locals on Ambermoss. While you know I’m far more liberal about these sorts of things than the average PDM captain, I’m starting to feel the heat from up high, if you catch my drift. The ranking officer on Ambermoss has already filed an official complaint. I know he’s more than a handful to deal with, but at least put up more of an effort next time, ok? I’d hate to see something as trivial as an argument turn into something more serious.”

Kay smiled nervously. “You know me. I always do my best. But…”

“Yeah, I know. If anything, do it for your own hide.”

Kay nodded solemnly and exited the office, but before the door was shut she put her positive game face back on.

“Ready to do this thing?” Kay cheerfully asked Galant, who was waiting outside of the office.

Galant nodded assuredly. “I could use the change of pace. I haven’t been on a proper crack down in ages. Let’s go sic us a feline.”

He’s also one of the “good guys”.

A portly fellow of utterly undiscernible race and age, no one knows how Mack became the scumbag we see today. There have been times when Mack has been forced to justify his actions. Sometimes he claims to have spent his youth on the sordid streets of Heirino, where even saints would soon find themselves becoming whores in order to survive. When no one buys that crock, there’s always the fantastical story of how a few unfortunate mistakes in his youth led him to joining the criminal ranks against his will. He can conjure up a few tears and go on about how he regrets his stupid, youthful mistakes to this day. As those tears flow, one could almost believe his story, were it not for the part about regretting his actions. “Regret” and “Mack” never belong in the same paragraph.

Regardless of his origins, no one can deny the fact that Mack is an honorless, backstabbing bastard. Nor would Mack deny this fact. Hell, he’s the first to admit it. The truth is often an effective distraction in a sea of lies, since the average person would assume Mack is just kidding about his devious nature. Whatever his reasons for admitting his true disposition, Mack is completely devoid of any feelings of guilt. Guilt would require a conscience. If there was something that Mack lacked even more than regret, it’s a conscience. You could almost call his lack of a conscience charming, in a sick and twisted sort of way.

If there’s any one reason why Mack is still alive, despite the fact that he has undoubtedly made an exceptionally long list of people who want him dead, it is the fact that he’s an unsurpassed opportunist. No one takes the opportunity to run away more than Mack, nor would he pass up an opportunity to screw over anyone he’s met. The fact that he’s a known pathological traitor means that he’s a reliable mole for those he opposes. Having a traitor in the midst of the enemy, even if it’s Mack, is seldom a bad thing.

Where The Empire was ruled by the desires of a seemingly-omnipotent being, The Republic was, and is, ruled by the desires of a all-too mortal family.

The DiMedicci family, which rules over the Republic’s systems, is renown for producing an abnormally large number of brilliant minds. It is this well of knowledge, ingenuity, and wits that allowed the family to rule outside of Pharaoh’s power even at the height of his power, and Sophia is a glowing example of this trend.

Unfortunately for her family, she has long abandoned them in favor of seeking her own goals.

Sophia is a genius when it comes to mathematics and logic. Her natural aptitudes have made her an expert when it comes to programming and predicting trends, and she has used her abilities to the most logical end: the aquisition of monetary gain by any means necessary.

In essence, Sophia has deduced that the most logical way to obtain a place in the world is to become a criminal. By entering the world of crime, she has given herself more financial opportunities. While she traffics in numerous legitimate prospects, she does not limit herself to that which the government has deemed appropriate.

Because of this train of thought, Sophia forged a place for herself within the confines of the Three Queens Syndicate. Soon after she departed her home world, she used her substantial personal funds to essentially buy her way into the organization. This mean bribes, hiring assassins to get rid of competition, and any other “solutions” that could be aquired through money. With her foot firmly planted in the door, Sophia began her ascent, and she is currently sits on what one could call the “third tier” of the Syndicate’s power structure. She answers to few and stands watch over many.

At the same time, she has made numerous enemies and has become increasingly paranoid. She has not left her office complex in three years, and has not had any direct human contact, outside of her personal assisstant, in several months. She claims this is due to formulating what she calls “the singular plan,” but most feel that she is slowly losing her mind to the numbers and figures she seems to master.