The Pirate and The Prisoner - [Chapter Nine]
God, 2024 just started, and it's already kicking my ass. As if Ficnapping, work obligations, and occasional burnout weren't enough to slow my writing down, the universe swung a left hook and made me take a big fuck-off laceration on my face from falling on the bus, then took my lunch money by making me catch some kind of awful flu or whatever at the hospital when I got stitches put in for said laceration.
Anyway, extremely sorry for another prolonged delay in the posting of this chapter, and I hope you enjoy!
Shout-out to u/Saylor_man, u/Arquimond, and u/JulianSkies for proofreading/editing!
Massive shout-out to Zurrie, Ajax, Dani, and Roddcherry on the NoP Discord for ALL THIS WONDERFUL ART!
Thank you so much!!!
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Memory Transcription: Bashir, Farsul Security Personnel.
Date [standardized human time]: October 17th, 2097.
Stars above, do these damned alarms ever shut up!?
My paw finds its way up to my forehead, trying to ease my growing migraine. One started the second I was unceremoniously woken up by being thrown out of my bunk from an explosion rocking the ship.
And it's not like these flashing lights and klaxons screaming at me the entire time since have helped all that much.
Pulling back the slide with a dull chhk, I inspect the chamber of my pistol, seeing it in much the same state it has been the last twenty or so times I checked. This is so boring.
With a sigh, I lean my head back against the wall and stare up at the red-tinted ceiling panels above me, losing myself to my thoughts.
Four hours of standing around the drive bay, waiting for the engineers inside to finish fixing the damn thing. Not like we were even really told what was happening, we weren't even given a briefing. Just the Chief of Security shouting “We’re under attack!” and making us run all the way to the other side of the damn ship.
And honestly? The more we sit here with nothing happening, the less convinced I am that we’re actually under attack.
More likely, this is another one of those “surprise drills” that stick-waving beancounter running this job keeps insisting on.
A crackle of static at my side finally cuts through the silence, and I glanced over to see our squad leader tugging at his radio. As he pulls it up to his face, a garbled and unintelligible voice is heard coming from the speakers.
“This is Epsilon squad leader Garrek, please repeat, over.” He speaks sternly into the microphone. After a moment of quiet, the voice returns again, slightly clearer this time.
“[kzzrt]-uad Epsilon, we have lost contac-[kzzrt]-the medical bay. Move to investigate and clear out any potential hostiles. Repeat, Squad Epsilon reposition to the medica-[kzzrt]-bay.”
“Affirmative. Moving now.” Garrek relays, pinning the radio speaker back to his belt. He turns to us, flicking forward with a tentacle. “Looks like we’re going to medbay. Let's get a move on.”
With a quick series of nods from the two of us, our squad begins hastily walking through the halls towards our destination. Garrek takes the lead, myself following just beside him, as our third member Vivvit lags slightly behind.
The further into these corridors we go, the more the alarms seem to grow ever louder and more grating.
Within a few minutes, Garrek starts tiredly rubbing at his eye, muttering to himself. “...damn Arxur just had to show up on my shift off…”
Vivvit speaks up, stepping slightly closer to us. “Actually… Are you sure this even is the Arxur? I mean, usually raids from them are a lot louder and faster than this, right? This all seems too slow and methodical for the grays… I-I think it might-”
Garrek gives her an incredulous look, pointing an accusatory tentacle at her.
“Don’t you even start with that nonsense again, Vivvit. “Space Pirates” are NOT. FUCKING. REAL. It’s some childish predator-shit you pulled from an Atibeskos comic, and you know it.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Garrek just turned away again and kept walking, so she just let out a quiet harumph and stayed quiet.
I just shook my head at the whole thing, after hearing it so many times before. Vivvit was a good friend of mine, and she got along with pretty much everyone on the crew, but it’s moments like these that remind me that the young Kolshian was still a bit… eccentric.
We continued to walk in relative silence, and before long the plain metal doors of the Medical bay. I give a quick glance around the various interweaving corridors leading to and from the area, feeling a growing chill crawl up my spine, my fur standing on edge.
It’s too quiet.
Even during a lockdown like this, the medbay is practically at the core of the entire ship. There should be crew members of all stripes flowing through these halls, from medical personnel to security and engineers… but every corridor is empty and unmoving. Even the shrill sirens begin to feel distant and muffled, a cold silence gripping the air.
“...Where is everyone?”
Garrek begins looking around himself, a stern expression growing over his face. He takes a step forward, pointing at several areas nearby and calling out orders.
“Vivvit, search the room, find out what's going on. Bashir, cover the right hall, I'll take the left.”
With a quick nod from both of us we move forwards, Vivvit rushing through the doors into the medical bay while Garrek and I take positions at opposite ends of the corridor. I point my weapon forwards, keeping a watchful eye out.
Several minutes pass and nothing much changes, just the quiet and suspicious empty hallway staring back at me. I turn to look at Garrek standing a short ways away, facing away from me. I can't help but notice how tense his shoulders are and how rigid his stance is, and a pang of guilt hits me at the sight.
The stress of this whole situation must be weighing on him pretty hard. I can't blame him, not really, but… I should still do something, right?
I bite my lip, thinking for a moment before making my decision.
“...Hey, Garrek?” I call out quietly.
“Hm?”
“I was thinking, once this all blows over… you wanna grab some drinks together?”
He turned to look at me, a smug aura in his eyes.
“Don't you remember what happened the last time I brought you drinking?”
“Hey, don't look at me like that!” I pointed at him coyly, conveniently dodging the fact that I did not, in fact, remember what happened last time.
“I was just thinking we could just sit down, take it easy for a bit, y'know?”
He shook his head as he looked away, chuckling. I could immediately see the tension start draining from his form.
“...Yeah… I think I'd like that.”
My tail flicked warmly, and returned to watching the hallway. Yeah. A nice, quiet moment together with a few drinks would be great after this.
A quiet moment.
Wait…
With a spark of realization, I pulled my radio up to my face, switching it on. “Vivvit, it's been a while since you checked on, what's your status?”
No answer.
“Vivvit, what's going on in there?”
…
“Vivvit, please respond!”
Nothing.
I glance over to Garrek behind me, seeing my worried expression mirrored on his own. I look down at the radio now shaking in my paw, and take a deep breath. You know what you have to do.
Clipping it back to my uniform, I clutch my gun tighter and rush towards the doors, opening them with a slap on the side panel.
“Bashir, STOP-” Garret shouts as I run, reaching out to me, but the thick metal slams shut behind me with a loud clang, leaving me trapped inside the pitch-black room.
The lights are out. Fuck.
Flicking a switch on my pistol, the flashlight mounted to it comes to life, emitting a long beam of pale white light out from under the barrel. I sweep the beam slowly side to side as I step further into the messy room, loose papers and broken equipment strewn throughout the shadows.
“Viv’? You in here?” I whisper into the darkness, hearing only my own voice softly echoing off the walls as my light passes over a series of overturned cabinets.
My paws trembled slightly, and I gulped. “C’mon, Viv', stop messing around, this isn't funny!” I spoke slightly louder, but still heard nothing as I saw the surgery table in the center bent and ruined.
“Vivvit, please, where the fuck are yo- ha- HAAAA-!!!” I froze, words catching in my throat as every strand of fur on my body stood on end.
I found her.
Tucked between some of the patient beds. Her head turned towards me, eyes locked in a look of pure terror. But…
Where's the rest of her.
I stumble away frantically, unable to look away. My pistol falls from my grasp, but the haunting image remains illuminated by its light. Their hollow, empty eyes pierce my soul with their lifeless gaze, and try as I might I cannot look away.
No…no, no, no- please- this isn't real, this is just a dream, please tell me this is a dream!
Though my breathing grows shallow and rapid and my vision blurs with flowing tears, the sight before me doesn't change.
A quiet knock in the hall outside finally peels my eyes away, and before I can even think I begin sprinting back to the door, nearly tripping over the spilled papers and overturned tables.
Hitting the panel so hard my paw stings, the doors hiss open and I rush outside before falling to my knees in despair.
“G-Garrek! Viv- she- she- I don’t- she’s-!” Sounds bubble forth from my mouth like a flood, unable to form the most basic of sentences. The mere thought of what I saw in that room sends another icy chill through my fur.
E-everything has gone so horribly wrong! Garrek, please, please, please tell me you can do something!
But when I turn to where they were…I don't see them. My heart drops once more, my eyes darting around every which way to find my friend…
…Until I see the long violet smear climbing up the corridor wall.
And the quiet laughter from the vents.
[WARNING!: Stress levels above safe parameters! Transcript Instability possible!]
Run.
Run.
Don't stop. Don't slow down. Just run away.
I don't know where I am, nor where I'm going, but it doesn't matter. Air burns in my chest and every fiber in my body is screaming in pain, but I can't stop. I can't stop.
My eyes glance back behind me instinctively, just to see a pair of glowing yellow eyes in the darkness, growing ever closer with every passing moment.
Run.
Blood roars in my ears, the halls around me becoming nothing but a red and grey blur as I push myself harder.
I have to keep going. I can't let it catch me. I can't let it kil-
“OOMF!”
…I fell.
My vision snaps down to my foot, prone on the ground. A loose floor panel. I tripped over a floor panel and fell.
I fell.
nonononononononono-
Get up!
Get up!
It's coming!
You have to hurry!
RUN!
…
It's too late.
It's here.
I spun around, raising my arms desperately to cover myself.
And all I saw were teeth.
.
[End of Transcript. REASON: Subject Death]
Cause of Death: Decapitation.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Vircha, Arxur Defector, Crewmate of “The Scarlet Drake”.
Date [standardized human time]: October 17th, 2097.
Vibrant blue blood pooled over the dull floor plates. The salty taste coating my tongue in the most intoxicating of ways. A final crunch of bone, and my meal is complete, leaving nothing to waste.
Coming to my feet once more, I look down at the small spread of cerulean viscera before me, relishing in the sensation that few Arxur may experience: feeling truly fed.
A smug grin finds its way to my face, holding my stained claws out in front of me. An entire security squad, torn apart one by one before they could so much as fight back. Father could only dream of a hunt this easy.
Oh, I'm sure your family will be very proud of you, once they learn who you hunt with.
My smile vanishes in an instant, replaced with a sense of sombreness and regret. Of disappointment.
With a thoughtless motion, my claw reaches down and retrieves that ever-painful reminder from my belt, holding it out flat between my claws.
On one end, a stout handle fitted perfectly for my grasp, expertly wrapped in cured Venlil leather by artisans back home on Wriss. On the other, a magnificent scabbard made of fine opal, that glistens iridescently even under the dim light.
Taking a shallow breath, I tighten my grip around each side, pulling them apart with a dull snap.
Revealing within a stunningly forged, ornate shortsword. A vast array of detailed engravings line the blade, telling tales of great victories and righteous heroes.
All of which subtly draw your eyes toward a circular crest just above the hilt, bearing the mark of the Prophet.
The family Keirsho. Or at least, my part of it.
Once, this blade was a symbol of pride. One among a triplicate set of blades handed down through the generations to the most worthy of successors.
It showed that I was to be a great leader among our people one day. That I could have achieved standing and power amongst the upper echelons of the Betterment elite. That I was destined for greatness!
I stare into the silvery blade, seeing tired red eyes glaring back at me. The eyes of my Father.
“And you threw all of it away.” the reflection seemed to say, a quiet venom in its words. “And for what? Freedom? Where has that “Freedom” gotten you? Fighting for every morsel of food like a mongrel in the street? Flying around with a crew of Prey?! And you dare to still call yourself Arxur!”
I turn my eyes away, blocking out the painful vision. My voice spills from my mouth, no louder than a whisper. “N-no… They’re good people… I…I-”
The reflections voice continues anyway. “Good people? They’re Prey. Prey aren’t People. Or have you truly forgotten everything you learned your entire life?”
My hands clench tightly. “No- It’s not like that, I know that now. And they…They’re kind to me.” I turn back to the reflection, seeing his eyes once again. “Something you never were!”
“How can you be so sure?” The voice spat, taking on a new tone. “They won’t even talk to you.”
My face turns away, looking down at the floor.
“You’ve thrown your entire life of wealth and potential away to be alone on a ship filled with prey too terrified to even look at you. Afraid that any second you’ll become the very monster they already see you as. So answer me this:
“Was it worth it?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears stinging painfully at the corners. Stop it. Stop it! It’s been so long, why must you keep tormenting me!
“WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!?”
My voice echoes through the empty hall, going unanswered. I look back to the reflection in the blade once more, only to see my own amber eyes looking back, filled with tears.
Letting out a long-suffering sigh, my arms fall limp to my sides when a sudden buzzing and hiss of static pulls my attention away.
Quickly reaching to the other side of my belt, I find my radio crackling to life with an incoming message.
"Team three, this is the Captain, please respond… Vircha, we have a situation." The Captain’s voice flowed through the speakers, slightly distorted with minor interference.
I swallow briefly, trying to ease my breathing back to normal after everything from the past few minutes before speaking. “Vircha here. Is…there a problem?”
The Krakotl’s response came quickly, heralded with more static. “It's… hard to explain. Just- meet us at the research labs. I’ll try to fill you in when you get here.”
I blinked in confusion. His tone seemed erratic and nervous, which was typical of when they gave orders to me, but… he seemed more afraid of whatever this “situation” was, more than anything. What in the Prophet’s name is going on?
I clear my thoughts with a shake of my head. “Uh…Understood, Captain. I’ll be there shortly.”
Without a word, the line went dead, silence taking over the hall once more. The now-quiet radio lay motionless in my claw, as my mind swirled with everything I had just heard. I’m still not sure what’s going on, or why… but clearly the Captain needs help. Needs my help.
I look back at my Keirsho, and at the reflection within. The voice remained silent, but their words still echoed in my ears.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not a good Arxur.
I then hold the radio out again, looking between the two quietly, before taking a deep breath and looking forward.
…But maybe I can be a good Pirate.
Posted Jan 21, 2024, 8:00 PM UTC