The comms hill burned through the night like a furnace that refused to go out.
By morning, the relay mast was a twisted spine on black stone, and the bunker complex beneath it had collapsed in places—concrete peeled back, rebar exposed like ribs, scorch marks smeared across the terraces where the last stand had ended. The wind carried ash and the sour stink of cooked insulation.
The task force called it victory.
Victory looked like wreckage.
The spaceport at Rook's Fall was turning into a temporary capital. DropShips came and went. Infantry set up perimeter blocks. Engineers pulled cable and rebuilt power loops. Medics worked in rows of makeshift bays, where the hurt didn't stop just because the shooting slowed.
In the Leopard's bay, the Dire Wolf, Highlander, and Centurion stood with fresh field patches—ugly bolt-on plates, quick-seal foam around microfractures, tape lines marking hairline armor splits. They were repaired enough to move, not repaired enough to feel clean.
Dack paced in front of his Daishi, helmet under his arm. His jaw worked like it always did when he was thinking hard and refusing to show it.
Jinx sat on an ammo crate like she owned the planet, legs swinging, looking pleased with herself in a way that didn't match the bruises on her throat from harness strain.
Taila stood closer to the Centurion, fingers tapping her thigh, eyes bright and restless. She didn't look shaken anymore. She looked… hungry. Like she'd survived the worst test of her life and now wanted to prove it wasn't a fluke.
Lyra entered with her tablet, expression composed, hair tied back tight the way she wore it when she didn't want anyone guessing what she was feeling.
"Debrief in fifteen," she said. "Then salvage arbitration."
Jinx snorted. "Arbitration. Fancy word for 'how hard are they going to try to screw us.'"
Lyra's mouth twitched. "Correct."
Dack's voice was blunt. "They'll try."
Taila glanced at him. "Can they?"
Dack looked at her. "Only if we let them."
Jinx grinned. "That's my boss."
Lyra's eyes flicked—briefly—to the way Jinx leaned into Dack without thinking, how Taila didn't flinch from it anymore. Lyra looked back down at the tablet fast enough to pretend she hadn't.
Dack noticed anyway.
He didn't say anything.
He just said, "We go."
---
The debrief was held in a prefab command module near the main hangars. It smelled like cheap coffee and burnt ozone. A holomap of Cantorrell IV rotated on a projector, highlighting zones the task force had "secured."
A man in uniform ran the meeting. The same tired certainty. The same clean words that pretended merc work was tidy.
"Comms node destroyed. Spaceport perimeter secured. Pirate heavy assets eliminated," he said. "We're calling the operation successful."
A few merc commanders nodded. Some looked dead-eyed. One had his arm in a sling and still smelled like smoke.
Dack didn't nod.
He waited.
When the officer finished, Dack spoke. "Payment."
The officer blinked. "Payment will be issued after final accounting."
"Now," Dack said.
The officer's jaw tightened. "There's a process."
Jinx laughed softly, like she enjoyed watching processes get broken. Taila stayed quiet, watching Dack like he was a weapon she was learning.
Lyra stepped in before the conversation turned into a fistfight with paperwork. Her voice was calm, professional, sharp enough to cut.
"Per contract terms, partial disbursement is due upon seizure of the primary objective. The spaceport was taken. The comms node is neutralized. Your 'final accounting' doesn't override the payment schedule."
The officer's eyes narrowed. "Who are you."
Lyra didn't blink. "The one who read the contract you signed."
Jinx made an appreciative noise. Taila looked faintly proud. Dack's mouth twitched—not a smile, but close.
The officer turned his gaze to Dack. "You're not the senior commander here."
Dack's reply came flat. "No."
A pause.
Then he added, because he was talking more lately and because he was done letting people treat him like a tool. "But my Dire Wolf was in your spearhead, and my lance held when yours started falling apart. You want my unit for the mop-up? You pay."
The room got quieter.
The officer's face tightened. "We lost a Warhammer."
"We all lost something," Dack said. "I'm not donating my losses to your budget."
Lyra tapped her tablet and projected a second screen—combat logs, kill confirmations, time stamps, line-item ammunition burn. Dack's unit's actions were clean and documented.
"Also," Lyra said, "if you attempt to reduce payout by claiming 'excess collateral damage,' we have recorded comms orders instructing assault into the spaceport. Your own directive. Your responsibility."
The officer stared at the data.
He didn't like it.
He also couldn't argue with it without looking stupid.
Finally he exhaled. "Partial disbursement will be released today."
Jinx leaned forward like a shark. "And salvage?"
The officer's tone went hard. "Salvage rights are… complicated. The comms node was scuttled. Many wrecks are within restricted zones. The employer claims priority recovery."
Dack's voice cut in. "No."
The officer's eyes narrowed again. "Excuse me?"
"No," Dack repeated. "You don't get to call us in to bleed, then keep the metal."
The officer's jaw clenched. "Those are not the terms—"
Lyra spoke over him, calm and lethal. "They are. Section seven. Salvage share: mercenary force retains first pick from battlefield recoverables after mission objectives are met. The employer receives priority on intact functional assets only."
Jinx's grin widened. "I love her."
Taila murmured, "Me too," without thinking.
Lyra's ears went faintly pink. She kept her eyes on the tablet.
The officer's expression shifted into the look of someone realizing the small merc unit had teeth.
"Fine," he said. "Arbitration will be held. But expect restrictions. We can't have mercs stripping the city bare."
Dack's reply was blunt. "We don't want the city. We want our share."
The officer gestured sharply. "Then show up."
Dack turned to leave. Jinx followed. Taila trailed close. Lyra walked with them, tablet tucked under her arm, posture controlled.
Outside, Jinx laughed. "You just bullied an employer."
Dack's tone stayed flat. "He tried it."
Taila glanced between them. "So we can take a 'Mech?"
Dack answered without looking at her. "If there's one worth taking."
Taila swallowed. "A heavy."
Dack finally looked at her. "We'll see."
That "we'll see" wasn't dismissive.
It was a promise with caution built into it.
---
Arbitration was held in the salvage yard at the edge of the spaceport. A fenced-off zone where wrecks were stacked like carcasses waiting to be carved. The air smelled like cutting torches and scorched coolant. The ground was black with oil stains.
A line of captured pirate machines sat under floodlights:
A battered Shadow Hawk missing armor panels
A Griffin with a crushed leg
A Hunchback with its cannon mount twisted and ruined
An Archer that looked like it had been through a firestorm
Pieces of heavier wrecks dragged in on sleds—sections of Marauder, shredded Catapult, and the broken cockpit section of the King Crab laid out like a trophy
Merc commanders argued like dogs over scraps.
The employer's representatives watched like accountants watching hungry men.
Dack didn't posture.
He walked the line, looking at machines like he was reading a language.
Jinx circled the King Crab cockpit section and whistled. "That's a lot of dead."
Taila stared at it longer than she should have. "The pilot didn't eject."
Dack's voice was blunt. "He died where he sat."
Taila swallowed. "Is that… normal."
"On a hill like that," Dack said. "Yeah."
Lyra stood a step behind him, tablet in hand, eyes scanning numbers and values. Her voice dropped low. "They're going to try to deny you anything above medium class."
Jinx snorted. "I'll take their kneecaps as salvage."
Dack didn't respond. He kept walking.
A merc commander from another unit stepped in his path, smirking. "Dire Wolf pilot, huh? You want the King Crab carcass?"
Dack's eyes didn't change. "I want a workable chassis."
The commander laughed. "Everyone wants a workable chassis. You're late. Best picks are gone."
Dack's reply was flat. "Then I take what's left and I still get paid."
The commander leaned closer. "You don't get it. This is politics. You're nobody. You're a kid with a Clan machine."
Jinx's hand flexed like she wanted to punch him out of his boots.
Taila stiffened.
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
Dack spoke quietly—blunt, controlled. "Move."
The commander smirked wider. "Or what."
Dack's gaze stayed dead calm. "Or you'll learn what 'nobody' does to people who get in his way."
The commander held Dack's eyes for a second too long, then stepped aside.
Jinx smiled sweetly at his back. "Good choice."
They reached the Griffin again and Dack stopped. He walked around it, studying the leg damage, the torso, the cockpit integrity.
Taila watched him with tense hope.
Dack nodded once. "This one is salvageable. If the gyro isn't cracked."
Lyra's fingers flew across her tablet. "Griffin is a medium, but it's a strong upgrade from a Centurion for mobility and training."
Taila's jaw tightened. "I wanted a heavy."
Dack didn't sugarcoat it. "A heavy costs more than you think. Repairs, parts, ammo, heat load. You're not ready to run a heavy alone yet."
Taila's eyes flashed, embarrassed anger rising.
Dack continued, still blunt, but not cruel. "The Griffin will teach you movement. It will punish you if you freeze. It's a better teacher than a heavy that lets you stand still."
Taila swallowed hard. She hated that he was right.
Jinx leaned in and kissed Taila's cheek—quick and public. "He's right, babe."
Taila's face went pink. "Stop—"
Jinx smacked her ass lightly. "Never."
Taila made a mortified sound, but she didn't pull away.
Lyra looked down at her tablet again a little too fast.
Dack turned toward the arbitration table. "We claim the Griffin."
The employer rep frowned. "Medium chassis. Acceptable."
Dack's eyes narrowed. "And we claim King Crab components. Autocannon assemblies. Armor plates. Anything compatible with our maintenance chain."
The rep's mouth tightened. "That will require review."
Lyra stepped forward, voice calm and razor sharp. "No. It requires a signature. The components are battlefield recoverables. Not an intact functional asset. You do not have priority."
The rep looked tired. "You're persistent."
Lyra didn't blink. "I'm correct."
Jinx grinned. "She's hot when she's mean."
Lyra's ears flushed bright red.
Taila snorted a laugh despite herself.
Dack looked at Lyra—just a glance—and said, blunt and quiet, "Good work."
Lyra froze for half a second, then nodded once. "Thank you."
The rep finally exhaled. "Fine. Griffin chassis. King Crab components within reason. Payment partial released today. Full payment after final sweep operations."
Dack nodded once. "Good."
And for a moment, it looked like the day might actually go smooth.
Then the pirate lord's daughter showed up.
---
She didn't arrive with an escort.
She arrived with a knife.
There was a commotion at the edge of the salvage yard—two infantry guards shouting, one stumbling backward, then a slim figure slipping between stacked scrap like a shadow. She moved fast, not trained like a soldier, but desperate like someone who had survived by refusing to stop.
Her clothing was wrong for a war zone.
A black gothic dress—long skirt, layered lace, fitted bodice, heavy boots that didn't match the delicate fabric. Black gloves. A choker. Hair dyed midnight and cut in sharp lines that framed a pale face made even paler by soot.
She looked like a funeral walking.
Her eyes were furious.
She saw Dack's Dire Wolf in the open bays beyond the fence line, and something inside her snapped.
She lunged for the gate controls with her knife raised like she thought she could stab a world open.
A guard grabbed her arm.
She twisted, drove the knife into his thigh, and he went down screaming.
The yard erupted in shouts.
Dack moved without thinking.
Not running. Not panicking. Just moving like violence was a language he spoke fluently.
He crossed the distance in a few steps, caught her wrist before she could stab again, and twisted—hard enough to disarm, not hard enough to break.
The knife clattered onto the concrete.
She spat at him.
"Let me go!"
Her voice was sharp, young, furious, trying to sound fearless and failing.
Jinx came up on Dack's right like a knife drawn. Taila moved on his left, eyes wide but steady.
Lyra hung back a pace, tablet forgotten, watching with the same calm focus she used in a flak run.
The girl jerked against Dack's grip like a trapped animal.
Dack's voice was blunt. "Stop."
"Make me," she hissed, face flushing with rage. "You merc trash— you killed him—!"
"Who," Dack asked.
"You know who!" she snapped, eyes bright with tears she refused to let fall. "My father!"
The salvage yard went quieter.
Jinx's expression shifted—interest, hunger for drama. Taila's face tightened. Lyra's gaze sharpened.
Dack stared at the girl for a long moment.
Then he said, flat: "King Crab pilot."
Her chin lifted defiantly. "Pirate Lord Voren Kestrel."
So that was the name on the hill.
Not important now. Just confirmed.
She yanked again, trying to pull free. "I'll— I'll—"
"You'll die," Dack said. Simple. "Out here, alone, swinging a knife at people with rifles. You already almost did."
She glared up at him like she wanted to bite his throat. "I don't care."
Dack didn't argue emotion. He argued reality.
"You do care," he said. "You're still breathing."
She trembled, angry, humiliated by the trembling.
Taila spoke, quiet but firm. "You stabbed a guard."
"He grabbed me!" the girl snapped, then immediately—like a reflex—added, "Not that I care."
Jinx laughed once. "Oh, she's a brat."
The girl whipped her head toward Jinx. "Shut up!"
Jinx's grin widened. "Definitely a brat."
The girl's eyes flicked to Dack again, hatred and something else twisting together. "You think you're some hero?"
Dack's reply was blunt. "No."
She blinked, thrown off.
Dack continued. "I got paid."
Her face twisted with disgust. "Monster."
Dack didn't deny it. He just loosened his grip slightly so she could breathe without feeling like she was being crushed.
Then he said the only thing that mattered in the moment. "Name."
She hesitated like giving it away was surrender.
Then she spat it anyway. "Morrigan Kestrel."
Gothic. Of course.
Dack nodded once. "Morrigan. You're captured."
"I'm not—"
"You are," Dack cut in. "If I let you go, the employer will hang you as pirate royalty. Or someone will shoot you for fun. Or you'll try to stab the wrong person and die in the dirt."
Her lips pulled back. "Good."
Dack's eyes stayed cold. "No."
Morrigan went still, breathing hard, eyes flashing.
Dack looked toward the employer rep, then to the armed guards already moving in.
He made a decision.
"You're my bondsman," he said.
The words hit the yard like a sudden wind.
Jinx's eyebrows rose. Taila stiffened. Lyra's eyes widened.
Morrigan stared at him like he'd spoken a foreign language. "Your… what?"
Dack's voice stayed flat. "Bondsman. Clan custom."
"I'm not Clan," she snapped, then immediately, because she couldn't help herself, "not that I'd want to be."
Jinx chuckled. "Tsundere."
Morrigan glared at her. "What does that even mean?"
Jinx grinned. "It means you're going to be fun."
Taila's voice came tight. "Dack—"
He didn't look away from Morrigan. "Listen. If you're mine, the employer doesn't get you. You answer to me."
Morrigan's face tightened, pride warring with survival. "So you can chain me."
Dack's tone didn't change. "So you can live."
She stared at him. Her eyes flicked briefly to the guards closing in. To the employer rep watching like he wanted a spectacle. To the yard full of mercs who'd happily tear her apart if the contract said so.
Then back to Dack.
"You killed my father," she whispered, voice breaking around the words.
Dack answered, blunt. "He tried to kill us."
Morrigan's jaw trembled with rage.
Then she lifted her chin like she was stepping onto a stage. "Fine."
Taila's eyes widened. Jinx looked delighted. Lyra's breath caught.
Morrigan's voice went rigid, forced, bitter. "If I'm captured… I choose the one who beat him."
She swallowed something sharp. "I will serve as your bondsman."
Then, because she couldn't help herself, she added—hateful and mortified at the same time: "Not because I want to."
Jinx laughed out loud.
Taila looked like she'd been punched in the gut.
Lyra's cheeks went faintly pink again, like she'd suddenly remembered what she'd been overhearing at night and what "bondsman" might turn into in Jinx's vocabulary.
Dack finally released Morrigan's wrist.
He didn't touch her after that. He didn't need to.
His voice was blunt. "Good. You follow orders. You don't stab my crew."
Morrigan sneered. "As if I'd want to."
Jinx leaned in. "Oh, you will."
Morrigan hissed. "Shut up!"
Taila's voice was tight, controlled, trying not to sound jealous and failing. "What does this mean."
Dack looked at Taila—direct, blunt. "It means she's under our protection. That's it."
Jinx's grin was wicked. "For now."
Dack didn't answer that.
Lyra stepped forward then, professional mask sliding back into place. "Dack. If she's your bondsman, she becomes a security liability aboard the Leopard until vetted."
Morrigan snapped, "I'm not a—"
Lyra's eyes stayed calm. "Yes you are."
Morrigan blinked, thrown off again.
Lyra continued, voice even. "We will restrain you when necessary. We will monitor you. You will have quarters. You will have food. You will not have weapons."
Morrigan bristled. "I don't need your charity."
Lyra didn't blink. "It's not charity. It's procedure."
Jinx smirked at Lyra. "You're kind of scary."
Lyra's ears flushed. "I'm competent."
Dack nodded once, approving. "Lyra's right."
Morrigan glared at all of them like she wanted to burn the world down.
Then she folded her hands over her lace skirt and stood with rigid dignity, chin up, eyes wet with fury she wouldn't allow to fall.
"Fine," she said again. "Do it."
---
They walked her back to the Leopard under guard.
The yard noise returned behind them—torches, arguments, metal being cut apart.
Taila didn't speak for the first minute.
Jinx did, because Jinx always did. "So, Morrigan. You got a 'Mech?"
Morrigan's head snapped. "No."
Jinx's grin sharpened. "Pirate lord's daughter without a 'Mech. That's tragic."
Morrigan snapped, defensive. "I didn't want one."
Jinx laughed. "Liar."
Morrigan's face flushed red. "I'm not—!"
Dack cut in, blunt. "Quiet."
Morrigan immediately shut up—more out of surprise than obedience.
Taila finally spoke, voice controlled. "Why were you even here."
Morrigan's eyes flicked away. "I wasn't running."
Jinx smirked. "You were totally running."
"I was not," Morrigan snapped, then—like she realized she'd spoken too fast—added bitterly, "Not that it matters."
Dack looked at her. "You came to die."
Morrigan's lips pressed tight.
That was answer enough.
Lyra walked beside them, silent, but her eyes kept flicking to Dack and then away again like she was fighting her own thoughts.
Thoughts about bondsmen. About the "ground rules" she'd never been formally told but had overheard in laughter and breath through thin walls. Thoughts about what it felt like to be pulled into someone's center instead of orbiting alone.
She didn't say any of it.
Not yet.
At the Leopard's ramp, Jinx stopped and leaned close to Taila, voice low enough only Taila and Dack could hear.
"She's going to drive you crazy."
Taila's jaw tightened. "Jinx."
Jinx's grin was pure trouble. "Good. Means you care."
Taila didn't deny it.
Dack watched both of them, then looked at Morrigan.
"On my ship," he said, "you don't start fights with my people."
Morrigan glared. "Your 'people' are disgusting."
Jinx laughed. Taila flushed. Lyra's ears went pink.
Dack didn't react. "You follow orders, you live."
Morrigan's voice was a hiss. "I'll live just to hate you longer."
Dack nodded once. "Fine."
He turned to Lyra. "Assign quarters. Secure."
Lyra swallowed, then nodded. "Yes."
For a split second, her eyes lingered on Dack—curiosity and heat buried under professionalism.
Then she turned away and did her job.
---
That night, the spaceport still burned in the distance.
The task force celebrated in the way mercs celebrated—drinking, laughing too loud, pretending the dead didn't exist.
Dack didn't drink.
He sat in the Leopard's bay with the Dire Wolf looming above him and listened to the ship's quiet.
Taila came in first, moving close, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw like it was natural now. She didn't ask permission anymore. She still blushed afterward, but she didn't retreat.
Jinx followed and kissed him too, then kissed Taila, then grinned like she'd won something.
Dack let it happen.
Then Taila's eyes flicked toward the corridor where Morrigan had been taken.
Her voice was tight. "Is she… going to be—"
Dack's answer was immediate. "Not unless you want it."
Jinx's smile went sly. "And you will want it."
Taila glared. "Stop."
Jinx shrugged. "I'm just saying. She's pretty in a 'I bite' way."
Taila's cheeks went warm despite herself.
Dack's voice stayed blunt. "We're not doing this tonight."
Jinx smirked. "Sure."
Taila leaned into Dack again, quieter. "She hates you."
Dack's reply was flat. "Good."
Taila blinked. "Good?"
"She's alive," Dack said. "Hate means she's still fighting to exist."
Taila stared at him, then slowly nodded like she understood.
Jinx's voice went softer, rare. "Boss… that was a kind thing."
Dack didn't respond to that. He just looked toward the corridor, toward where Lyra was moving quietly through the ship, and toward where Morrigan sat in lace and anger, alive because he'd decided she would be.
The contract was nearly finished.
The salvage fight wasn't.
And now a new complication sat on his ship wearing black lace like armor.
Dack exhaled once, slow.
Then he said, blunt and certain, more to himself than anyone else:
"We're building a lance. Maybe a star."
Jinx grinned. "And a gothic bondsman."
Taila muttered, "And trouble."
Lyra's footsteps paused somewhere down the corridor—just long enough to make Dack aware she'd heard.
Then they continued.
And in the thin, humming quiet of the Leopard, Dack understood something simple and dangerous:
This wasn't just merc work anymore.
It was becoming a crew.
A home.
And the universe was going to try to take it from him the first chance it got.