Life aboard the Rusty Pelican was a lesson in organized chaos.
The ship was a living thing that groaned, leaked, and complained constantly. The crew slept in hammocks slung between steam pipes, ate stew made from reconstituted protein paste, and gambled with rivets instead of coins.
For three days, they had been skirting the edge of the Stratosphere, hiding in the dense cloud layer to avoid Imperial patrols.
Julian sat in the engine room, watching Skid work. The green-haired mechanic was hanging upside down from a pipe, welding a patch onto the main boiler.
"Pass me the 5/8 wrench," Skid called out, sparks showering her goggles.
Julian handed her the tool. "You run this whole ship with spit and duct tape, don't you?"
"Spit, duct tape, and prayer," Skid grinned, flipping her welding visor up. She looked at Julian's hand. The Black-Iron ring was dull and heavy on his finger. "You know, Blitz is getting impatient. He didn't bring you on board to be my assistant."
"I know," Julian said, looking at the vibrating engine. "He wants a skeleton key."
"He wants a payday," Skid corrected. "And he found one."
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG.
The ship's bell rang three times. The signal for 'All Hands'.
The Flight Deck
Captain Blitz stood at the helm, a holographic map projected from his cybernetic eye onto the navigation table. The wind whipped his coat as the Pelican cruised silently through a canyon of white clouds.
"Listen up, you bilge-rats!" Blitz shouted over the wind.
The crew gathered. Lyra stood next to Julian, her hand resting casually on her gun belt. She looked tired; she hadn't slept more than an hour at a time since they boarded.
"We have a target," Blitz announced, pointing to a blinking dot on the map. "Course 9-North. Incoming from the Capital Sectors."
He zoomed in on the hologram. It wasn't a warship. It was a sleek, silver vessel with no windows and no cockpit. Just a smooth, aerodynamic teardrop of polished aluminum.
"The Silver Courier," Blitz grinned. "An automated Imperial drone-ship. It carries the monthly tax revenue from Sector 4 to the Central Bank. Gold bullion, refined Aether cells, and gemstones."
The crew cheered, eyes wide with greed.
"But," Blitz raised a finger, silencing them. "It has a 'Dead-Man's Lock'. If the hull is breached, or if it detects unauthorized weight... the whole ship detonates. Vaporizes the cargo and anyone stupid enough to be standing on it."
He turned his red cybernetic eye toward Julian.
"That's where you come in, Sparky."
The Intercept
The Rusty Pelican rose out of the clouds like a shark breaching water.
Directly ahead of them, the Silver Courier hummed along its programmed path, oblivious to the predator on its tail.
"Harpoons!" Blitz commanded.
Two massive spear-guns fired from the Pelican's bow. THWACK. THWACK.
The steel heads slammed into the Courier's flank, digging deep into the aluminum. The cables went taut. The pirate ship shuddered as it tethered itself to the drone.
"Reel us in! Keep her steady!"
The ships drew closer until they were only ten feet apart, the wind howling in the gap. The drop below was five thousand feet of empty sky.
"You're up, kid!" Blitz shoved Julian toward the railing. "Jump across. Disable the sensor grid. Don't blow up my retirement fund."
Julian looked at the gap. He looked at the sleek silver hull of the drone. It was vibrating with a high-pitched security frequency.
"Cover me," Julian said to Lyra.
"Always," she nodded, unholstering her pistol, though there was nothing to shoot.
Julian climbed onto the railing. He took a breath of thin, freezing air.
He jumped.
He landed on the curved hull of the Silver Courier.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.
A red light on the drone's spine began to flash rapidly.
"It knows you're there!" Skid yelled from the Pelican. "You got ten seconds before it blows!"
Julian fell to his knees, pressing his palms against the cold metal. He didn't take off the ring. He didn't need the raw power of the Titan here; he need precision.
He closed his eyes.
He felt the drone's mind. It wasn't complex like the Titan or sentient like the Automaton monk. It was a simple, paranoid logic loop.
Intruder detected. Weight anomaly. Initiate thermal detonation.
Nine... Eight...
Julian pushed his Resonance through the ring. He didn't try to break the lock. He tried to lie to it.
He found the frequency of the weight sensors. He visualized the signal they were sending to the central processor.
I am not a person, Julian projected into the metal. I am wind friction. I am atmospheric drag. I am nothing.
He matched the vibration of his body to the vibration of the hull. He became part of the ship's own song.
Four... Three...
The red light stopped flashing. It turned a steady, calm green.
Weight anomaly resolved. Systems nominal.
Julian exhaled, his sweat freezing on his forehead. "It's asleep!" he shouted back to the Pelican.
"Good lad!" Blitz roared. "Now crack it open!"
Julian crawled to the cargo hatch. It was a solid block of titanium with no handle. He placed his crystal hand on the center.
Open.
He sent a sharp pulse of dissonance into the locking bolts. Click. Click. Clunk.
The hatch hissed and slid open.
Inside, rows of sealed crates gleamed in the sunlight. Gold bars stamped with the Emperor's seal. Canisters of glowing blue Aether.
The pirates threw a cargo net across. "Load it up! Fast!"
Julian helped load the heavy crates into the net. He was moving a small, black box when he felt something strange.
The box didn't hum like gold or Aether. It ticked.
Julian paused. He looked closely at the box. It was marked: PROJECT SILENCE - PROTOTYPE 04.
"What is this?" Julian muttered.
"Don't ask questions!" A pirate snatched the box from his hands and threw it into the net. "If it's in the box, it pays the rent!"
They hauled the loot back to the Pelican. Julian jumped back across just as the automated drone began to correct its course.
"Cut the lines!" Blitz yelled.
The cables were severed. The Silver Courier sped away, lighter and none the wiser.
The Cargo Hold
The crew was celebrating. Casks of ale were cracked open. Blitz was running his hands over the gold bars like a lover.
But Julian stood in the corner, staring at the pile of loot. Specifically, at the small black box.
Lyra walked up to him. "You did good. We bought ourselves another week of travel."
"We need to check that box," Julian whispered.
"Why?"
"Because I felt it," Julian said, rubbing his ring finger. "It felt like... empty space. Like the assassins in the Dregs."
Before Lyra could answer, Blitz picked up the black box.
"And what do we have here?" The Captain pried the lid open with his knife.
Inside, nestled in velvet, was not a weapon. It was a Mask.
A silver porcelain mask, perfectly smooth, with no eyes or mouth. Just a mirror.
The entire room went silent. The pirates stopped cheering. Even Blitz looked uneasy.
"A Void Walker mask?" Skid whispered. "Why is the Treasury shipping that?"
Blitz went to touch it.
"Don't!" Julian shouted.
Too late. Blitz's finger brushed the porcelain.
HUMMM.
The mask didn't activate. It transmitted.
A high-pitched signal pierced the air.
Blitz slammed the box shut. "Damn it! It's a beacon!"
"Throw it overboard!" Lyra yelled.
"No!" Blitz clutched the box to his chest. "This tech is worth more than the gold! The Black Market in the Free Isles would pay a fortune for a Silence prototype!"
"It's transmitting our location!" Julian stepped forward. "They'll find us!"
"Let them try!" Blitz snarled, his greed overriding his caution. "We're ghosts in the clouds! Skid, jam the signal! Everyone else, back to stations! We're running dark!"
He marched off to his cabin with the mask.
Julian looked at Lyra. Her face was pale.
"He just rang the dinner bell," Lyra said grimly.
"Yeah," Julian looked at the closed door of the Captain's quarters. "And he invited the monsters to the table."