A lone Ripper ship blinked out of hyperspace several clicks above the Terramesh. Its noodly frame floated in the black like a rusty squid. Inside the cockpit, Max studied the planet cluster as any newcomer did, with mouth agape and eyelids twitching. No sane being could accept the physics-defying image without a bout of mental gymnastics. The transition from that can’t be real to holy crap it is has left many in need of a stiff drink.
Max vocalized the mental sputter as a simple “Whoa.” After all, she had grown to expect the unending curveballs the universe lobs from all directions.
“Impressive, eh?” Ross said, still perched on the console like a furry gargoyle.
“How is that even possible?”
“Atmospheric gravity locks, to be grossly simplistic. The designer never released the tech before her company went under. Every planet has its own climatic barrier, which the bridges somehow ignore. Slick as hell, but still unnerving.”
“You can say that again.”
“But I won’t.”
“It’s just a saying.”
“And a really stupid one. How is repeating a statement going to hammer the message home? If I were to say it again, would you be prompted for a third round? A fourth? When does a heard and poignant statement lose its relevance and become annoying drivel?”
“Are you done?”
“Never.”
“Careful, your gumption is showing.”
“You can say that again.”
Max glared at the feline, then turned her attention to the scanner output. A few taps created a hologram image of the planetary system. “What’s the place again?”
“Grondon.”
The hologram pinged in response and faded the exterior planets, revealing a blinking globe underneath. It zoomed inside and brought the targeted world into gridding detail. A sea of chaotic traffic drifted around the barrier. No rhyme or reason, just a patternless swarm of ships floating inside a jumbled mess of planets. A red arrow appeared and blinked near the Grondon pole, denoting their destination. A red line snaked its way through the mesh and back to the Ripper’s current position.
Max grinned. “Well that’s convenient.”
“Your doppelganger has it all mapped out. You’re going to rendezvous at the Ferretian base of operations. Zoey and Perra are there right now.”
“Doing what? I never took them as crusader types.”
“They’re not. Nifan forced them into a power play.”
“To do what?”
Ross shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Max huffed. “Your detachment is comforting.”
“Eye on the prize, lady. Let’s get you down there.”
Max took a deep breath and gripped the yoke.
“By the way, you’re in a stolen Ripper with a silenced beacon. It is one of the few Black Razor ships that survived the battle at Hollow Hold. The Varokins have been usurped inside the Terramesh. In other words, everyone here wants to kill you.”
Max closed her eyes and fought a potent urge to punch Ross off the console. She mentally laughed at the image and returned her gaze to the viewport. A swipe and tap ignited the main engine. She took a measured breath, lobbed a stink eye at the feline, then pushed the yoke forward. The Ripper surged towards the mesh on a cone of red flame.
In reality, no one cared.
Due to the close proximity of neighboring worlds, ships inside the Terramesh paid little attention to each other. They were far more concerned with staying alive. One false move could result in a barrier crash or a head-on collision with a massive pylon. In other words, they minded their own damn business. They adhered to the same unspoken rules of rush hour traffic: eyes on the road, keep up with the flow, don’t drive like a lunatic.
The Ripper cruised around a desert planet to reveal the snowy expanse of Grondon. A shimmering pillar speared it like a lollipop, fusing fire and ice. Max dove beneath the sky bridge and followed it like a makeshift freeway. Mag-trams sped overhead, shuttling dregs between worlds. As the ship neared Grondon, the crests of mountain ranges appeared as shadowy rivers. They zigzagged across the planet, giving it the facade of a cracked egg. An unforgiving landscape, ideal housing for a covert force.
A hailing signal chirped inside the cockpit. Max reached across the console and tapped a blinking icon. The hologram bust of Migg and his noodly mustache pieced together. He eyed Max, then flutter-spat and turned to Ross.
“Blarga blark,” he said.
“Blarga binka,” Ross said, adding a nod.
“Blarga bakka gena sheong.”
“Blarga lamma bom bom canny.”
Migg snorted. “Blarga fresto?”
Ross glanced at Max. “Blarga delo borcheska.”
Migg and Ross shared a chuckle, leaving Max perplexed and annoyed.
“Blarga bop ben deka doop,” Migg said, then killed the transmission.
Ross started grooming his paw.
An awkward silence filled the cockpit.
“Well?” Max said.
“Well what?” Ross said, pausing mid-lick.
“What’d he say?”
“He said your mother is a whore.”
The console pinged with an incoming signal. A panel of nav data appeared and scrolled through a list of protocols. The yoke reset and the autopilot engaged, pitching the ship towards the upper pole. Max crossed her arms and leaned back as the Ripper punched through the atmo-barrier, dove into a mountain pass, and sped towards the hidden outpost. Soon after, the vessel arrived at the ravine cliff and parked itself on one of the landing pads. A bay door opened and the platform crawled inside.
As the ship passed the exterior wall, a familiar freighter came into view. The boxy ship sat in silence as purple-suited resistance fighters darted around the hangar. Max pressed her palms to the viewport and donned a wide smile.
“There it is! They’re really here!”
“Mhmm,” Ross said.
Max sighed. “Jeez, would it kill you show some delight? The proverbial band is about to get back together and you just shrug it off like a trip to the dry cleaners.”
“My cognition spans the multiverse. This exact scenario is playing out for me a quadrillion times over. Fun fact, they actually murder you in several versions. In one, Mulgawats view human flesh as a delicacy and they flash-freeze you for future snacking. In another, the gals are wanted serial killers and blast a hole in your chest for disturbing a rousing game of checkers. In perhaps my favorite, they fill a giant enema with cottage cheese and—”
“I get the idea, thank you Captain Buzzkill.”
“Hence my apathy to this normal-ish encounter.”
Max glared at the feline. “Ish?”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re probably fine.”
She paused for thought. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or just messing with me.”
“That’s kind of my shtick.”
Max sighed and returned to the viewport. The platform rumbled to a stop, cueing the gleeful yelp and hurried clap of a fangirl scoring front row tickets. Max spun around and sprinted for the airlock, only to skid to a halt with a sudden rush of pain.
“Ow ow ow! Something bit my asshole.” She reached into her waistband and hooked a thin strip of fabric. “The hell is this?”
“What, your thong?”
“Wait, that’s what thongs feel like? Why would anyone do that to themselves?”
The airlock slid open and a tiny red goblin with yellow eyes jumped inside. Max stumbled backwards, then cringed at another bum nibble.
“Blarga berp,” Migg said.
“Blarga boo nata notty,” Ross said, then dropped from the console and trotted towards the open airlock. He traded a muted chuckle with Migg as he passed.
Max lingered at the airlock, ogling Migg and his squirmy mustache as he flipped through a clipboard of papers.
Migg paused and locked eyes with the human. “Blarga mi mooka!” he said, which Max clearly understood as get the hell off my ship!
Max flinched and scrambled out the door.
“Blarga bop yarko,” Migg said from inside. A utility belt sailed through the airlock and landed at Max’s feet.
Max reached down and grabbed the sleek accessory. The purple leather matched her suit and featured several small compartments. A sturdy holster contained a compact plasma pistol. Max nodded and latched the belt around her waist, completing the image of whatever the hell she was in that particular universe. She hooked her thumbs inside the belt and glanced around the hangar.
A large banner featuring a giant purple ferret holding a banjo hung with pride from the rear wall. Comrades of all shapes and sizes tended to various ships and stations. The roar of preparation filled the bay, gifting Max an odd sense of belonging. She half-expected to see an X-wing stamped with a purple ferret logo.
Max exhaled a heavy breath while snapping her fingers, like a nervous teen building the courage to ask out a crush. She glanced down at Ross and smiled. “You ready?”
“What, like I’m on pins and needles?”
Max ignored the remark, opting to focus on the glorious reunion at hand. She stepped towards the tiny freighter. A sudden onslaught of butterflies infected her stomach.
“So you’re just gonna knock and introduce yourself?”
Max twisted her hands over one another. “I don’t know. It’s not like I planned this out.”
“Obviously. The goal was to sneak on the ship, not con your way inside like a magazine salesman.”
“And how the hell would I manage that with everyone running around? I’m the only human here, from what I can gather. Not exactly inconspicuous.”
“Suit yourself. Who am I to block a thoroughly amusing confrontation?”
Max clenched her lips.
A short hike later, she arrived at the airlock door of the familiar freighter. Max stared at the pane for what seemed like an eternity as the events of the previous day replayed in her head. She had snuck into a Yarnwal camp, repaired a Ripper, beheaded a dinosaur, escaped Yankar, and crossed the great black sea for this very moment, but recoiled at the thought of rejection. A rush of insecurity infected her mind, like a nerdy kid at the edge of a dance floor. Ross sensed the anxiety and decided to toss her a bone.
“You’ve earned it,” he said. “Go ahead.”
Max grinned. “Thanks, buddy.” She raised a confident fist and knocked.
The airlock slid open moments later, revealing Zoey in her usual pilot garb. Her choppy black hair and sunburst complexion flooded Max with relief. That is, until her face tightened with rage. Zoey seized Max by the lapels, yanked her inside, and slammed her back against the wall.
“How did you find us?!” Zoey said.
Max stammered in response, adding widened eyes and a mousy whimper.
“Calm down,” Ross said as he leapt into the ship. “We’re all on the same side here.”
“Same side?” Perra said as she emerged from the engine room. Her punky attire and long auburn hair lifted a brief grin on Max’s face. She tossed a dirty rag aside and grabbed a monkey wrench, clutching it like a nightstick. “Last time I checked, Maxine was a member of the Veiled Traders.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“But nothing,” Zoey said, still pinning Max to the wall. “That little incident at the Paxton Mines nearly killed us.”
Max shifted her gaze between the ladies. “Sorry?”
“Oh, you’re going to be,” Perra said as she smacked the wrench into her palm.
A body flew through the airlock and thumped the cargo bay floor, startling everyone inside. The prisoner grunted on impact, then barked an array of curses through a cloth bag. Henry climbed into the vessel soon after. He stood tall and dusted himself off before heeding the current predicament. The group froze, leaving the dull roar of hangar activity and the squirms of a mystery captive. Henry met eyes with Zoey, who leaned into the chest of a frightened Earthling. Without moving his noggin, he glanced at a wrench-wielding Perra, then down to a disinterested house cat.
Perra eyed the prisoner. “Um, who’s that?”
Henry thumped the wall panel, closing the airlock door. He stepped over to the captive, hooked her uniform collar, and yanked her to her feet. She stumbled a bit and regained her balance. The energy shackles around her arms and legs crackled with static. Henry glanced around the room, as if prepping for a magic trick. He pinched the black sack and jerked it free, revealing the teardrop skull and silver eyes of Lord Essien.
Everyone gasped, except for Ross, who batted at a piece of lint trapped in the floor grates.
Zoey released Max, who ugly-tumbled to the floor and scrambled back to her feet.
Perra’s face had traded worry for an outright shock.
Lord Essien tossed a hateful gaze at Henry, then glanced around the room. She scowled at Perra, sneered at Zoey, and scoffed at Ross. When she got to Max, a sly smile stretched across her face. “Been a while, Maxine.”
Max glared at Ross. “Of course she knows me.”
Ross snort-chuckled.
“Still raw about the Paxton Mines, I see,” Essien said to Zoey. “I’m surprised you haven’t killed the bitch after what she did.”
“Under your orders.”
“Her hand, her massacre.”
Max raised her hand, drawing the group’s attention. “I thought I was a ferret-worshiping freedom fighter.”
Essien huffed. “Your treachery knows no bounds.”
Max glared at Ross again, who fought hard to restrain an onrush of merriment.
Henry stepped into the center, killing the conversation. He locked eyes with Zoey and nodded towards the cockpit. She sighed and motioned for Perra to join her. They strolled by the group and up the narrow passage, tossing dirty looks to Essien as they passed. Max followed them out of habit.
“Maxine, my darling,” Essien said as she stepped by.
Max slowed to a stop and met eyes with the black-lipped battle lord.
Essien grinned, then lunged forward and snatched the plasma pistol from Max’s holster. Max yelped and fumbled at the intrusion, drawing the attention of Zoey and Perra in the cockpit. Lord Essien hopped aside and aimed the pistol at Henry, gripping it with shackled hands. He stared back through an expressionless face as he raised his meaty palms into the air. Max slowly backed away with her arms raised. Zoey and Perra rushed to the cargo bay, only to face down the barrel of Lord Essien’s pistol. Their hands rose as well, completing the set. The energy braids painted Essien’s taut face with a blue sheen. She aimed the pistol at Henry.
“You can take these off now,” she said.
Henry stared at her, cold and silent.
Essien fired a shot that zipped by his head and slammed into the airlock door, causing everyone to flinch but Henry. Sparks rained from the impact, many of which bounced off Henry’s head and shoulders.
“I’m sorry, did you mistake that for a request?”
Henry expelled a slow sigh and glanced away for a split second, his version of screaming goddamnit at the top of his lungs. “Rojan pyek,” he said in his nasally mouse-like voice.
The shackles crackled away, but not before Lord Essien burst into laughter. Her toothy howls broke the tension for a moment, prompting everyone else to snort and snicker. She concluded the chuckle with a heavy sigh. “Tim help me, no wonder you’re the silent type.”
Henry ignored her and stared straight ahead, opting to give a distant wall locker his undivided attention.
Essien gripped the weapon with a free hand and slipped the other inside a breast pocket, retrieving her comdev. She tapped a command without breaking eye contact. The device pinged with acquisition.
“Yersh, herm mmer ... mmerlerd,” Jai said.
Essien scrunched her brow and glanced at the comdev. “The hell is wrong with you?”
“Serrr ... erm ...”
“Sweet mercy, gimme that,” Trevor said from off-screen. The image jerked and jostled as he wrestled the device away from Jai. “Yes, hi, this is Trevor. Jai is still a bit woozy from the tranq dart. What can I do you for?”
Essien grimaced. “I need you to trace my signal.”
Silence responded.
She sighed and glanced around the cargo bay with mild embarrassment. “Well?”
“Yeah, um ... I don’t know how to do that,” Trevor said in a sheepish tone.
“Geeer mer der ffff ... feern,” Jai said from afar.
“You’re too drunk, shut up.”
“Erm nert.”
A muffled scuffle commenced, filling the room with the tinny sounds of children fighting over a toy. Essien pursed her lips and shook her head like a disgruntled grade school teacher. The rest of the group traded bored glances. After a bout of bonks and bellows, the image stabilized on Trevor’s lumpy noggin.
“Grondon, Section 14, northern pot roast.”
“Eerperst!” Jai said from afar.
“Outpost, sorry.”
“Summon all fighters to my location,” Essien said.
Silence responded.
Essien grumbled. “Do you copy?”
“Are those the big ones or the little ones?”
“Holy fucknuts, Trevor! Call up anything with a big ass gun and come get me!”
Silence responded.
“We need to work on your people skills,” he said, then tossed the comdev to Jai.
“Yersh, m’lerd. Rert awer.”
Essien killed the feed and shoved the comdev back into her breast pocket. Everyone else wandered their gazes like bored employees enduring a pointless staff meeting. Henry remained the exception, keeping every muscle braced while continuing his intense examination of a wall locker. Essien glanced around the group, studying clothes and curves to pass the time. While admiring Perra’s sassy kicks, her eyes suddenly widened.
“Wait, where’s the cat?”
The pistol in her hand exploded.
She recoiled and stumbled backwards.
Everyone turned to Ross, now sitting upon a crate stack beside an open locker. The barrel of a plasma pistol smoked beneath his legs with a paw resting on the trigger.
“Took you long enough,” he said. “I was starting to lose hope for a dramatic reveal.”
Henry locked eyes with Essien and lowered his arms.
She groaned and glanced away. “Fuck all of you right in the neck.”