CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ranna handed him a pistol with a pulsating yellow lens on the barrel, and Soran's hand dropped slightly under the weapon's weight. It felt alien in his grip, a device forged on a faraway world for some unknowable purpose, something beyond his understanding. It was the first time he had ever held a gun or anything with the innate purpose of harm. The Hyacinth's combat training program had never held much allure for him, never seeing himself as anything but an engineer. He had been unable to foresee that one day, danger would come to him, presenting its malice-filled eyes regardless of whether he was ready to greet them. The click of the stock on Ranna's weapon ignited the plasma within. Both barrels gleamed with disastrous potential, prepped to unleash their murderous payload. Plasma had become the weapon of choice for most patrons of violence. They fired a concentrated beam of energy that could incinerate flesh, melt steel, and inflict all manner of havoc in the right hands. Soran felt that at his command, the weapon would do more harm to him than any potential aggressor. Raising his arms and gripping the trigger, he pointed the barrel directly into the tunnel, watching in horror as the gloom birthed a nightmare.
A hideous snout protruded from the haze, sniffing at the air for its next meal. Wiry barb-tipped whiskers jostled in ghoulish whisps of wind, and clawed feet clapped the ground, kicking up clouds of vermilion dust. Glazed eyes of brilliant gold gazed through them, sightless but no less intrusive. Ranna turned, pressing his finger against his lips and forcing another step for pulpous limbs. Soran watched a row of jagged Bohlatite shards emerge through the pulsating fleshy slits that littered the creature's back. Cocooned in a crystal fortress, it stalked the circumference of the cavern, tightening the noose. It combed the ground with its snout, salivating thick streams of viscous liquid into the sand. Its front feet dug into the ground, not more than a dozen feet away, poising for attack. It was time to eat.
Without warning, the creature lunged at Tugg, who raised twin machetes to his defense with comparable haste. Metal locks on the hilt clicked into place, and the blades ignited with striking oceanic pigments. With a tremendous lunge, Tugg plunged his weapons into the gaping maw of the aggressor. Goliath jaws clamped down with frightening force and a struggle of might erupted. Tugg attempted to push the blades through the rows of serrated teeth but met with an immovable resistance. Ranna dashed to the right, opening fire on the creature's backside. Flashes of plasma illuminated the cramped cavern, forcing Soran and El to shield their eyes from the blinding light. The boy had his weapon pointed directly at the beast but found himself unable to take the shot. The deafening sound of gunfire had turned his reality into a silent movie, and the cries of his crew died to the ringing in his ears. He had stopped: stopped moving, stopped thinking. A terrifying theatre of violence was playing out before him, and the will to act gave way to fear. Despite the distillation of power harnessed at his fingertips, the horror of the gigantic beast overwhelmed him. This frailty of will hearkened back to his encounter with Malig. As was the case then, he could not thaw himself from the frigid paralysis.
Tugg's blades splintered between the creature's jaws. He roared in agony as razor-sharp canines ravaged his flesh to the bone in an instant. El ripped the gun from Soran's hand, shoving him to the ground to save her friend. Three simultaneous rounds punctured the wrinkled flesh of the beast's face, penetrating its left eye in a fountain of luminous blood. Tugg sloughed from its deadly grip. He fell to the ground, clutching what remained of his arm, his body convulsing in shock. El rushed to his aid, retrieving a sealant spray from the leather pouch hanging at her waist. Ranna flung his body between his crew and the beast, firing shots at the gaping injury El had inflicted. Using its Bohlatite armor to shield itself, the creature sprouted fresh shards as quickly as Ranna could destroy them.
The Captain heard an ominous click from his weapons. The plasma cells had expired. He stared at the now useless pistols and watched in horror as the beast sauntered toward him, syrupy orange blood pouring from its wounds. Despite the inability to defend himself, Ranna did not back away; he stood his ground and stared the reaper in the face. Sorrow swam in the midnight pools of his eyes as he faced his crew. His job was to protect them, and instead, he had led them straight into the jaws of death. The beast unhinged its jaw, parading the tangled mass of Tugg's flesh and blood. It lurched onto its hind legs, towering over the crew and positioning for its final assault. Ranna whispered something under his breath, and for a split second, the cave fell quiet, the beast's heavy panting the last thing they would hear. Soran watched in disbelief as the creature pulled back its clawed fist, swinging with ferine fury. The crackling ring of thunder filled the cavern, and the beast jolted to one side, halted in its attack. It collapsed to the ground, eviscerated, its rich, rusty blood spilling out at Ranna's feet, producing a foul smell as it charred the sandy rock. Unable to believe his eyes, Ranna patted his body, rubbing his eyes to dispel the dream into which he had fallen. Soran lay curled on the ground, calcified by the fearsome ordeal. El tended to Tugg, spraying copious amounts of sealant around the wound to quell the bleeding. Ranna's attention peaked at a rhythmic whistle. Deep in the tunnel, smoke billowed from the barrel of a large rifle. Its owner wore a scowl vicious enough to sow unease in even the toughest of hunters.
"Hallow," Ranna said with reverence. Despite his familiarity with the name, Hallow was not a man he had wanted to meet, although he now owed a debt of gratitude.
"Thistlegore trouble?" Hallow asked in a calm, bassy voice.
Ranna nodded in response, backing up to cover his injured crew.
"Business, I assume? Kaligan?" Hallow said as he ejected the spent plasma coils from his rifle, reloading from an ammo pouch stored inside his jacket. His face was a perfect collection of angles, culminating in the sharp points of his chin and nose.
"The Navy is handling it. You're 'services' are no longer required." Hallow pulled his rifle back onto his shoulders. He bore the brunt of the weight on his chest, which forced him into a formidable posture. The glow of the Thistlegore blood reflected off the near-brilliant white of his regal cape as he retreated into the gloom of the tunnel.
Ranna waited for Hallow to disappear before lunging at Soran. With a heaved fist, he connected a vicious right hook to the boy's jaw. Righteous anger erupted on impact, the Captain's molten rage collected in his scarred knuckles. Soran's head bounced off the ground, and blood poured from the side of his swollen mouth.
Ranna opened his lips to unleash his fury but relented upon seeing the stream of tears falling from the boy's eyes. Any faith in the ruse Soran had been perpetrating had now been erased. All that remained was the naked fragility he had attempted to conceal.
"No one that could take on Malig would be shaken by a beast. Look at him." Ranna spat in furor and pity. He pointed to Tugg, unconscious and deathly pale, on the ground. El had managed to seal his wounds. Her hands hovered over the afflicted area, a faint glow emanating from her fingertips.
"That is on you, kid. All you had to do was pull the trigger!"
Soran was crushed. He had always been there when people needed him, willing to offer what little he could. But this, this was different. His imaginings of the galaxy were nothing like reality. The visions had lacked peril, devoid of the inescapable suffering that venturing away from the Hyacinth entailed. He imagined his honest work and lessons from Lanic had crafted a decent man. With his true character exposed, the coward he had hidden away was revealed. He could feel only shame. His head drooped, unable to face his accuser. The truth in Ranna's words stung, each one a needle pricking his skin. He was helpless, useless, and, worst of all, a liar.
"How long until we can move on," Ranna asked. His eyes abandoned the boy, filled with dread as they settled on his friend's shallow, pained breaths.
"He won't be able to move for another few hours. We can't risk his wounds reopening." El replied, her concentration focused on healing the lacerations carved into Tugg's torso. Her healing drastically sped up a recovery process that would otherwise have taken months.
Ranna looked at Soran, still face down in the dirt, silently shedding empty tears onto the bleached crimson sands.
"Go." Soran's eyes peered up. Ranna was pointing to the tunnel.
"Go now. Before I change my mind." He pulled a serrated blade from his waistband.
Soran pushed himself to his feet, his body still trembling with remorse. He took one last glance at El, but her back remained turned. Her skin had faded into puddles of brown and yellow, and the movement in her hair had ceased altogether. She didn't need to cry or shout; she had become her sorrow. The boy sauntered off into the tunnel's darkness without so much a word passing his lips. He should have been grateful for the fact they had spared him. But, with the hands of guilt clasped around his throat, he was forced to entertain the notion that the alternative may have been preferable.
After hours of aimless wandering through the labyrinthine moon, Soran's remorse had solidified in his throat. Swaying in an almost drunken haze, his well-being and safety took a backseat to self-inflicted mental punishment. The endless, undulating corridors where he was trapped were sweltering. The thick, polluted air made breathing a chore. Slivers of light provided by the glistening platinum flakes were his only protection from being engulfed by the black.
The call of self-pity washed over him in consecutive waves, each more tempting to ride than the last. He hadn't chosen to join the Horizon crew. He wouldn't have agreed even if asked. The thoughts attempted to comfort him like a siren song, but Lanic had taught him better than that. He remained steadfast in his guilt, convinced that action was the only path to redemption.
A rabble of foreign voices intruded from the distance, not just one or two, but what sounded like dozens. Soran's curiosity peaked as the mossy glimmer of a stone archway appeared in the distance. With caution tempering his footsteps, he passed under the arch and out into a vast cavern. A previous excavation site, the expanse lay devoid of resources, the deep groves of Khabol claws all that remained. Soran peered over the perilous drop of an outcrop, discovering a sprawling, subterranean settlement. Bands of oddly dressed men roaved across handcrafted rope bridges, entering small huts constructed with mismatched scraps of sheet metal. A sea of torn flags adorned the various dwellings, each depicting an emblem he couldn't quite place: a jaw bone with sharpened fangs sat before a pair of swords. He stepped back from the ledge and whispered a solitary word.
"Pirates"
The clamor of a jeering of a crowd roared out from below. Soran stumbled into a crouch, shuffling behind a stack of discarded metal. Against his better judgment, he again peered over the ledge. A large pit housed a pair of the beasts he had just encountered. A savage and cruel battle was about to take place. The pirates threw rocks and screeched in joy over the perverse display of brutality. The boy could only watch on in horror as the larger of the two beasts clamped down on the neck of its unfortunate opponent, savaging its rival until the flame of life petered out. Soran averted his gaze, sickened by the barbarism of the duel. The commotion from below reignited. The pirates demanded more, flinging a captive Khabol to the waiting jaws of the victorious beast. Their murderous lust remained unsated, and their appetite for violence would require more blood. He had to escape the hell he had wandered into or risk becoming the next poor soul cast into the pit.
