102: Benighted and Bedevilled – Three
Against the black of the void, the Pelekys was a difficult thing to see, even without its stealth capabilities. It had been strikingly dissimilar from any known Thalatte design on record, but there had always been some link to its original engineers - A sharp angle here, the style of plating there. But now its appearance deviated even than before.
Completely matte black, all the straight edges of it had been replaced by gentle curves, the more organic look of it somehow blending it in more completely with the space it soared through. As it came to dock alongside a bare gunmetal and dust-encrusted station, it looked less a ship and more like a solid shadow.
Stepping off of one of the personnel ramps, back in her armour, Queen Kaizoku took in the interior of the station, her mechanical eye whirring as it scanned. Equally as dressed for combat, the rest of the crew descended the ramp behind her.
Like the exterior of the station, the interior was mostly bare metal, stark white light from overhead fixtures catching on every imperfection in the place, a layer of grime upon everything. Universal symbols for the facilities found within had been painted directly on the walls - a steaming bowl for foodstuffs, simple silhouettes of bodies for the common area, a trio of boxes linked by arrows for the trade hub - but they were so chipped and faded that they were almost useless as guideposts. It wasn't a huge place, but the acoustics of it were terrible, every sound made by the people and machinery in the dock amplified and discordant. The staff working there seemed to be actively dissociating, directing people to and fro on autopilot, the handful of people within the docking bay just as uninterested in interaction as the staff was.
"Charming place," was Chancellor Bathory's droll assessment of the station, "Are you sure we'll be able to find what we're looking for here?"
Over the face-mounted communication devices that all six of them were wearing, the Program replied, "This is where the contact said to meet. In checking over the station's inventory, they have more than enough in their supply depots to replenish our own stocks."
"Be that as it may, this is not a location I long to linger in," Kaizoku said, turning to the others, "Bathory, you and the Hand will settle our food stores, while Grim and the Knight will tend to our other supplies. Augury and I will see if this contact actually has anything worth our time."
"I will be available over the comms if you need me." The Program said while the rest split up to take care of their tasks.
Unnoticed by them all, a figure hidden in shadows tracked their movements before they lifted a device to their mouth and announced, "They're here - they've split up. Sending coordinates now."
To say this station had a thoroughfare would be a gross overestimation of the cramped hall where Bathory and the Hand found themselves, the stalls filling it more suggestions pressed into alcoves than they were proper shops, those manning the stalls making due with digital displays showing off their wares more than they were by having their goods physically present. With barely enough room to walk four abreast, it made everyone stopping to shop an obstruction to traffic. Despite this, the hallway was surprisingly crowded, forcing Bathory and the Hand to almost walk in single file.
Almost.
Turning to regard the woman walking at her side, her expression uncharacteristically warm, Bathory said, "Look at us, grocery shopping. How domestic."
Her shoulders rising with a huff of laughter, the Hand replied, "You certainly weren't complaining about being domesticated last night."
That got a delighted laugh out of Bathory.
"True," she admitted, her smile turning seductive, "I gotta admit, Red, I'm glad I was wrong about you."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" The Hand asked, more playful than accusatory.
Scoffing, Bathory told her, "Come on, 'the Queen's Red Left Hand'? That's textbook emotionless killer, a tool instead of a person."
"You know very well why I gave up my name." The Hand said, shooting her an unreadable look, but Bathory could clearly understand it just fine as she returned it with a knowing smile.
"Same reason I gave up mine. But at least I replaced a name with a name! You swapped yours out for a title."
Her own smile turning seductive, the Hand said, "That hasn't stopped you from screaming it out for me."
Swatting at her playfully, Bathory said, "See? That's what I'm talking about. You're flirty, you're funny, you're more than just your Queen's commands. I really-"
Bathory cut herself off, panic momentarily flickering across her face before she put up a mask of neutrality.
But the Hand had caught it, if the way her own expression softened was anything to go by. Tugging her off to the side as much as she could in the narrow space, she asked Bathory, "You really what?"
Bathory couldn't look at the Hand, her expression almost shy as she said, "I think you know."
"Hm. Maybe." The Hand replied noncommittally, tilting her head to try and catch Bathory's eye, "Maybe I felt it when we were all together as Storlayacas. Maybe I could feel the others like they were neighbours in the next room over. Maybe I could feel you like you were somewhere within my own ribcage. Maybe I want to hear you say it, regardless, because maybe I feel the same way."
That got Bathory's gaze back to the Hand. Eyes darkening, they flicked down momentarily, her tongue darting across her lips before she opened her mouth-
And promptly snapped it shut, her face shifting into a mask of professionalism.
"Someone's watching us." Bathory told the Hand, barely moving her lips, and a quiet snarl sounded from the woman before her.
"Someone you know?" The Hand murmured, doing nothing else to tip off whoever was surveilling them.
Bathory made a noise in the negative, and then she and the Hand stepped away from the wall, continuing on their journey as if they were none the wiser about the eyes that followed them.
They stopped at several of the stalls, ordering an assortment of non-fabricated food items to be delivered to their ship, putting on the appearance of being as light and casual as they had been before, meandering as if they didn't have a tail shadowing their every move.
Eventually they came to the end of the hall, a painted sign next to it indicating which direction would take them back to the docking bay. The pair of them stepped through the door that slid open on their approach.
And a stranger came up noiselessly behind them, ducking through the door before it could close.
Talking about what meal would work best with the ingredients they'd just ordered, the two women rounded the corner of the corridor that would lead them to their destination, and their tail fell behind, allowing some breathing room between them and their targets. After a few seconds, they peeked around the corner.
And found nothing there.
The hall wasn't overly long, but it wasn't something the pair could have made it to the end even if they'd broken into a dead sprint, and the length of it was essentially a tunnel. No doors, no alcoves, no vents to scramble up into, or anything else that could work as a hidey hole. And yet, Bathory and the Hand were nowhere to be found.
Muttering a curse under their breath, the stranger began power walking down the hall, tugging some type of communicator from their belt.
While behind them the air rippled, the crouched Bathory pulling her camouflage cape open enough for the Hand to dart out and slam the stranger up against the wall, twisting one arm painfully against their own back while she twisted the wrist of their other hand until the communicator fell from their nerveless grasp.
"Didn't your mother tell you it's rude to stalk people?" Bathory said as she bent to scoop up the communicator, "Dangerous too. There's no telling what someone will do when they feel they're threatened."
Dressed in a conspicuously nondescript suit of space armour with a hooded jacket thrown over it, their would-be tail tried to buck out of the Hand's grip, but she just wrenched their pinned arm into a worse position, the pain quickly bringing them to heel.
"Now, what could have possibly made you think that it was a good idea to try and follow us around?" Bathory asked, leaning casually against the wall while she tossed the communicator in the air. The stranger responded with nothing.
"Guess you didn't learn any manners," the Hand hissed as she pulled their other arm down painfully behind their back, "It's considered polite to answer a question asked of you."
Pinning both of the stranger's arms back with one hand, she used her free one to wrench back their hood.
The snarling, moss green reptilian face of a thalatte greeted them.
Bathory and the Hand both looked shocked to see what their stalker was, but they covered it quickly.
"You're military, aren't you?" Bathory accused, "Now what would a Thalatte soldier want with us?"
"I believe you already know." The thalatte snapped, clenching their jaw until an audible crunch sounded.
Bathory and the Hand moved as one at that, the Hand bodily throwing the thalatte away from them while using the momentum to throw herself at Bathory, who scooped her into her arms and then leaped away in a feat of human strength, the both of their suits fully sealing up.
It was a good thing that they did, because a moment later, the thalatte exploded, the blast tearing a hole straight through several bulkheads and out into open space.
While the pair of them had been far enough away to avoid the worst of the blast, the atmosphere rushing out of the new hole in the station did so with enough force to drag Bathory and the Hand with it. Once tossed out into the void, they activated the thrusters on their suits to keep them from getting too far away from the station, and turned around in time to watch as emergency shutters slammed down, isolating the damaged section of the station.
And preventing the pair of them from using that hall to get back to the ship.
"Just a heads up," the Hand called over the comms, "We had a Thalatte agent tailing us, and when we confronted them, they bit down on their kill switch."
"I had a feeling that explosion was connected to you somehow," Kaizoku's voice came a moment later, "Are you both alright?"
"A bit singed, and on an inadvertent space walk," Bathory replied, her voice tinged with annoyance, "I'm going to assume the station's going to go on lockdown, so we'll need the other personnel ramp opened, if you'd be so kind."
"I await your return." The Program confirmed.
"We acquired what we needed from our contact, so we'll be heading back to the ship," Kaizoku said, "Grim, how fare you and the Knight?"
Her question was answered with silence.
"Grim?" Kaizoku called again, concern threading through her voice, "Knight? Respond."
The supply depot was as bare and cramped as the rest of the station, though it did have dedicated kiosks for perusal, the items on sale ranging from arms and armour to the raw materials needed for fabricators.
"We won't need to worry about fuel, at the very least," Grim said, her eyes darting and distant as she read across whatever her face-mounted device was showing her, "Just the basics."
"Good, because I doubt we have much time for window shopping," the Knight said, as cryptic as she was calm, "We're being followed."
Grim's mandibles clicked together once in irritation, but she made no other sign that she'd been alerted, instead heading over to one of the kiosks that had what they needed.
The process of ordering from these was automated, Grim punching up what they needed for the ship on the display screen and tapping her credit chit to complete the transaction, the Knight tilted towards her like she was watching to see how it was done, but her attention was clearly elsewhere.
In the reflection of the kiosk's screen, she watched as a hooded figure surreptitiously watched the pair of them, edging closer in as aloof a manner as possible.
"That should be all we need," Grim said, pointedly catching the Knight's eye, "We may as well return to the ship. No doubt these supplies will be delivered before we arrive."
The Knight just nodded, moving away from the kiosk, and Grim fell into step beside her.
Rather than retracing their path back to the docking bay, they took the far exit, one leading to the commons. Shooting Grim a pointed glance, the Knight said, "May as well see what the rest of the station has to offer before we leave."
"A sound idea. I doubt we'll be returning here again." Grim replied, her hands resting casually on her hips.
Close to her sidearm.
The commons were lively in comparison to the rest of what they'd see of the station, but that wasn't saying much. A crowd of people milling about in the bare and brightly lit hall, several alcoves that may have once been storefronts were shuttered, several in disrepair, though there were one or two that were open and advertising. A few restaurants, a few dive bars, a few areas that could very generously be referred to as parks, all under the harsh lighting that seemed to be the only option available within this station. Grim and the Knight walked past the storefronts, both opened and closed, before they ducked into a shady looking speakeasy.
A few storefronts away, a figure sped up to enter the same establishment.
When they entered the dim bar, the stranger had to take a moment for their eyes to adjust from the harsh glare of the commons. When they did, they were greeted by the sight of a mostly empty room, a few tables where patrons sat slumped over pints, while a few more sat at the bar at the far end of the space.
Grim and the Knight were nowhere in sight.
The stranger scanned the room, trying to look casual, but there was a military rigidness to them that spoiled that illusion. They eventually made their way to the bar and flagged down the bartender.
"Thalatte ale," The stranger demanded, slapping a credit chit on the counter, "And the location of the two armoured newcomers who entered just before me."
The bartender, a lean apiarian of green and gold, stepped away briefly to pour a glass of the lavender libation, before placing it on the bar before the stranger, swiping the chit through a machine she had in one of the pockets of the apron she wore. After a cheery ding sounded, the bartender returned the chit and nodded towards the Staff Only door towards the back.
The stranger drained the glass in one go, then stood and marched towards the staff door.
The interior had automatic lights, as bright as those out in the commons, which switched on when the door closed behind the stranger. The moment they flinched at this onslaught, something fell on them from above, knocking them to the ground, while another voice calmly commanded, "Hold them still."
Pulling back the stranger's hood, the Knight quickly got the thalatte soldier into a headlock, while an already crouched Grim grabbed them by the face harshly enough to cause them to cry out in pain, and then she shoved the handle of an ice scoop in between their teeth.
"Operatives in the Thalatte Navy tend to have killswitches implanted in their jaws," Grim explained to the Knight, "One strong bite and it will detonate an explosive that will be powerful enough to take out them, us, and this entire bar."
"I see people are as inconsiderate to service workers in this day and age as they were in mine." The Knight grunted, tightening her grip around the thalatte's throat, "So much for the future being more advanced."
"Hard to evolve when egos run rampant," Grim said as she pressed down on the ice scoop, forcing the thalatte to open their mouth wider, "So now what are we to do with you?"
Spittle flew when the thalatte let out a harsh laugh, their words garbled as they said, "We're all dying here. I'll tell you nothing, and you know it."
"Had experience with the Thalatte before, have you?" The Knight strained as she asked the question, her captive trying to wriggle out of her grip.
Another laugh gurgled out of the thalatte as they spat, "We're here to reclaim our property."
Grim's expression shifted to something dark at that proclamation, a wild light igniting behind her eyes.
Then, audibly over the comms, Kaizoku's voice rang out, "Grim, how fare you and the Knight?"
Before either of them could do anything, the thalatte twisted, and with a pop they dislocated their own shoulder in order to get enough leverage to slip free of the Knight's hold, wrenching their head to the side in order to pull away from the ice scoop being held between their teeth.
And then the knife that Grim kept in her boot pierced so deep into the thalatte's throat that it severed their spinal column, and with both hands pressing the blade into her enemy's neck, Grim crouched over them and watched as the light left their eyes.
Into the heavy silence that followed, Kaizoku's voice called once again, "Grim? Knight? Respond."
"We had an encounter with a Thalatte agent." The Knight responded coolly a moment later, "They're dead now."
"Bathory and the Hand had a run in with one of their own," Kaizoku told her, "I believe it's time for us to depart. Head back to the ship when you are able, but call if you require assistance."
"We'll dispose of the body and be on our way." Grim told her, pulling her knife free and cleaning it on the dead thalatte's jacket before returning it to its sheath.
She stood then, helping the Knight to her feet, before she went to the door and cracked it open slightly, nodding once before stepping away. A few seconds later, the bartender stepped into the room, her gaze settling on the dead thalatte, a smile immediately springing to her lips.
"Navy scum," the bartender hissed before shooting Grim an appreciative look, "I can get them into recycling. You two should probably leave."
"Drain their chit before you do." Grim replied, and the bartender's mandibles flared as she laughed.
"Oh I already did! Fair winds find you."
"Safe harbours hold you." Grim replied, nodding for the Knight to follow her out of the room.
The both of them on high alert, they made their way out of the bar and through the commons, heading directly to the closest path back to the docking bay.
"What property of theirs did you take?" The Knight asked quietly as she scanned her surroundings, and Grim let out a low hiss that might have been a laugh under better circumstances.
"The Pelekys," she told her, "It was an experimental stealth vessel that Kaizoku and the Hand stole from one of their R&D facilities."
The Knight breathed out a laugh at that before saying, "Well it certainly isn't Thalatte anymore."