The Resolute held her course, crimson banners streaming behind the ornate white and gold hull as she fired condensed flak into the void.
Multiple repurposed scav ships attempted advances.
Flak bursts stitched across vectors, three bloomed in fire, one blur slipped by.
The Resolute shook as it took another hit.
"Damage report," Fay ordered in a refined voice.
"Boosters two and three are inoperable." A crew member said, "Captain, it's a Raven."
Feeds opened to reveal a single grey interceptor that evaded their flak array with effortless speed as it lined up its next shot.
"Focus shields to port-stern," Fay ordered. "Brace for impact."
A torpedo struck the reinforced shielding.
The deck lurched.
Output dipped.
Resolute held.
A remaining scav took the opportunity.
"Booster four is hit!"
"Focus all fire on the Raven," Fay ordered, unbothered by the scav.
"Captain, new contact. Position, 220."
"Status?"
"It's a, it's— "
"Spit it out." She ordered.
"Pale Raven, ma'am."
A Type-7.
Fay gritted her teeth. The situation was devolving. She had no choice now.
"Divert all generators to shields," she didn't blink. "Deploy all lander crafts, draw their fire."
Before the suicide order could be filled, a voice, too calm, entered their open channel.
"This is Monarch. I'm stepping in. "
The Pale Raven cut into the fray, screaming past the Resolute with meters to spare.
Monarch's railgun spoke once.
The 100mm tungsten slug ripped through the first scavs' generator housing, then exited into its wingman.
Tearing into the reinforced canopy.
The cockpit vanished in a bloom of glass and steel.
Monarch rolled a ninety and snapped into a vertical climb.
That's Imperial flying.
"Flag that Pale Raven green," Fay ordered to her fire control officer.
The officer blinked once, then acknowledged.
"Adjust heading 30 degrees. Provide covering fire."
She opened the channel, "Resolute to Monarch. We'll handle the scavs. The Type-6 is yours."
"Understood."
Elias checked the radar. The squadron subordinate was still there.
[WING ID: BLADE]
[ENGAGEMENT FLAG: ACTIVE]
[FORMATION: BROKEN]
Monarch cut a new vector.
Distance closed.
Blade pulled away, twisting and diving to avoid a lock.
Elias grunted as the maneuvers pushed at his wound.
It slipped into the firing lane for only a moment.
That was enough.
The trigger clicked.
Lights dimmed.
Nothing.
Monarch's boosters fought for control over the strained power system.
[RAILGUN ERROR: INSUFFICIENT POWER]
Blade snapped downward. Monarch couldn't keep up.
Below him. Behind him.
Monarch was forced into a corner, the generator howled through her frame.
Autocannon fire tore at the edges of Elias's vision.
The canopy spiderwebbed.
Something struck him hard, sharp.
[HULL BREACH: MINOR]
Monarch slammed reverse thrust.
[CM: DEPLOYED]
[EXT: DEPLOYED]
Blade flew right through the fog of micro debris.
Then slammed into a net of thin cables, cripling the wings on impact.
Blade's pilot veered his head around.
Nowhere.
He tried to turn.
Nothing.
A single 30mm sabot punched through the canopy.
It was over.
Monarch snapped a vector back towards the Resolute.
[CORE TEMP: CRITICAL]
Elias eased the reverse thrust. The frame shook to a stop.
He listened to the guttural vibrations for a moment, then killed the generator.
Silence. The cabin chilled rapidly as the suit heater whined to maintain body temp.
He waited for the generator to cool.
The Resolute cleaned up the last of the scav ships with her flak.
"Captain, the Pale Raven's signal died."
"And the Type-6?" She asked.
"Signal's there, but stopped, presumed destroyed, ma'am."
"Get me a visual. "
Feeds sprang up, the Type-6 was clipped at the wings, cockpit punched in.
They searched around and found the Monarch mostly intact in a dead drift.
"He's venting air." She said, "Match vector, prepare to receive."
The Resolute's portside came close to Monarch as Elias tried the generator.
It sputtered to life and resumed the same guttural vibration as before.
Resolute's hangar door opened.
A green air membrane webbed the opening. There were crew already standing by.
Monarch began to move towards the hangar.
Not under her own power.
It was weak.
Thrusters pulled back on instinct, braking the gravitational pull.
Elias was wary of docking into unknown hangars at this point.
"What are you trying?" He asked bluntly.
"Captain Bladefield has permitted you a berth. Do you refuse, Imperial?" A man spoke sharply over the open channel.
"Depends, am I permitted an exit?"
"You are," Fay's voice answered back.
"Alright. Bring the Type-6 in as well." A beat. "Please. "
"So be it," she said. The gravitational pull resumed; Monarch and what's left of Blade were drawn into the hangar.
He moved first. Straps clicked. The canopy hissed open.
He was immediately surrounded. Not by armed men — by Dragonkin engineers.
Scaled arms stacked crates into makeshift stairs.
Elias stepped out of the canopy, hand on his holster. He looked at Monarch, frost turning to steam as she cooled. Then to the dragonkin below him, then at the edge of the room, where men and women in crimson uniforms stood.
"Hey." Elias's voice came through the helmet speaker, distorted as he stepped down and onto the metal floor of the hangar.
The gravity felt strangely stable. Real.
A dragonkin reached out a hand holding a medical spray.
"Pilot, you're bleeding." The man's voice was rough.
"Elias, and you?" He took the spray. Then ran a hand over himself, looking for the wound.
"They call me Thrynn. Are you an Imperial?"
"I'm an Imperial mercenary." He said as he felt a deep gouge in the polymer of his knife sheath, then felt a shallow cut across his chest.
"So not with the Imperial fleet?" Thrynn asked.
"No, where's your captain?"
"The Longblood captain will be here shortly. "
"She's not your captain?" Elias sprayed the wound and passed the can back.
"No. We work for her." Thrynn watched him apply the spray. "You did not flinch."
"I see. Do you work on Imperial frames?" Elias redirected.
Thrynn looked to the wrapped and mangled Type-6, then to the steaming Monarch.
"I can. "
"How much?"
"Ask the captain. "
"Fair enough," Elias shrugged.
Crimson uniforms straightened. A path opened. Dragonkin didn't snap to attention. They simply nodded once and stepped aside.
A woman who appeared to be in her twenties approached him, thin armor, white steel that clung to her figure, edged with decorative silver branches of thorned flora.
Blond hair streaked red, pinned back behind pointed ears with silver thornwork.
She stopped just before arm's length.
Sharp emerald eyes met his own, level.
Elias glanced at the silver-crested daggers sheathed on her breastplate, then back to her eyes.
Hers did the same, noting his hands, weapon, and blade.
"Elias Jorneyman," he said, reaching a hand out.
"Helmet," she said bluntly.
Elias reached up unhurriedly and removed the helmet. Revealing his scarred face and unkempt black hair.
His eyes took her by surprise for a moment.
Dilated pupils, bloodshot whites, she'd seen that look before.
He reached out again.
"Captain Fay Bladefield." She said, reciprocating a strong clasp that met his forearm.
She glanced to his interceptor, then at his wound, then eyes.
"You're a redliner."
"What about it?" He asked.
"Did they put you in that raven?"
"Nobody forced me into the cockpit. I chose it. "
"So you're a hired dog?"
"A mercenary, yes. " He said flatly, unbothered.
"Anyone who hunts is a dog. You hunt so someone will pay you. "
She glanced towards the crippled Type-6 and its shattered cockpit.
"Dogs will die like dogs."
"We're all dogs then." Elias said coldly, "Every last one of us."
She glanced back toward him. A wry smile swept her lips.
"Come with me, Hired Dog." She turned and began walking.
Elias didn't move. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket and took a long pull from his doser. It clicked. Empty.
He held it a moment longer.
He pulled a fresh ARES-9 vial from his belt.
Peeled the protective cap from the mouthpiece.
It snapped in with a hiss before returning to the pocket.
He rolled the empty vial in his hand, then dropped it into a cargo pocket where it clanked against the others.
He followed.