The hallway was a graveyard of silence.
Above them, hanging from the ceiling like grotesque fruit, were the cocoons. Hundreds of them.
They were translucent, glowing with a sickly pale light. Inside, you could see the curled shapes of the Butterfly Krall. Their wings were wrapped tight around their bodies.
They were beautiful.
In a disgusting, parasite-infested sort of way.
Ragia moved low. He stepped carefully, avoiding the patches of organic slime that coated the floor. Raya was right behind him, her eyes white as she shared the vision of her clones scouting ahead.
"Left," Raya whispered. Her voice was barely audible. "Clone Two reports a clear path through the ventilation shaft. The main corridor is blocked by a nest."
"Copy," Ragia mouthed.
They slipped into the vent. It was tight.
Claustrophobic.
Ragia had to crawl on his elbows. He could feel the heat of the dormant creatures radiating through the thin metal walls.
One wrong move. One loud breath. And this rescue mission turns into a buffet.
"Target ahead," Raya murmured. "Deck four. Cargo hold."
They dropped down from the vent. They landed in a large, open chamber.
And there they were.
In the center of the room, barricaded behind a wall of crates and debris, sat two figures.
One was a Melito. She was small, with green hair and skin that looked like it had seen better days.
That was Velele. She was holding a jagged piece of metal like a spear, pointing it at the shadows.
Behind her, lying on a pile of old flight suits, was Lacrosse.
He looked bad.
His face was grey. His eyes were sunken. And below his waist... well, the flight suit was tied off. Dark stains soaked the fabric.
"Velele," Ragia whispered.
The girl jumped. She almost dropped her spear.
"Capt?" she gasped. Tears spilled from her eyes. "You came."
"I told you," Ragia said, moving quickly to them. "Xeca never leaves a man behind."
He knelt beside Lacrosse.
He opened his eyes. They were hazy. Unfocused.
"Ragia..." Lacrosse wheezed. His voice was like dry leaves scraping together. "You ugly... son of a..."
"Save the insults for later, Diesels," Ragia grinned. But the grin didn't reach his eyes. He saw the damage. He smelled the infection. "We are getting you out."
"My legs," Lacrosse muttered. "They took my legs, Ragia. The Queen... she was hungry."
"I know," Ragia said softly. "We will fix you up. We have the best medic in the galaxy. She will grow you new ones if she has to."
"Prof," Ragia signaled Raya. "Help Velele. We need to move him. Gently."
Raya nodded. She summoned two more clones. Together, they lifted the injured Inquor. He groaned, a sound of pure agony that echoed dangerously in the silent room.
Above them, a cocoon stirred.
"Shhh," Ragia hissed. He looked up.
The cocoon settled.
"We need to go," Raya said urgently. "My clones sense a disturbance in the hive mind. They are waking up."
"Let's move," Ragia ordered.
The exit was faster. But it was harder. Carrying a wounded man through a ship made of nightmares is not exactly a walk in the park.
They reached the airlock. Xeca was waiting. The safety of the metal womb.
They crossed the threshold. The heavy blast doors hissed shut behind them, sealing away the smell of rot and the sleeping death.
"Clear!" Ragia shouted into his comms. "We are clear! Detach! Get us out of here!"
The ship shuddered as Tonix fired the thrusters. They pulled away from the Gyra, leaving the ghost ship to drift back into the void.
Ragia slumped against the wall. He wiped sweat from his forehead.
He did it.
No stab wounds. No near-death experiences. Just a job well done.
See? I told you. He is a professional now.
They rushed Lacrosse to the Med Bay. Xecta was already waiting, her hands glowing with Remido light.
"Get him on the bed!" Shorty ordered. She didn't look like a shy rabbit now. She looked like a doctor. "Mama! I need pressure on the stumps! Vice, get the IV!"
The room was a flurry of motion.
Ragia stood back. He watched as his team worked to save his fellow Inquor. He watched the blood. He watched the pain.
Then, Lacrosse reached out.
His hand, weak and trembling, grabbed Ragia's jacket.
"Ragia..." Lacrosse whispered.
Ragia leaned in close. "I am here, buddy. You are safe. You are on the Xeca."
"No," Lacrosse gasped. His eyes widened. A sudden clarity cut through the pain. "Not safe. Nowhere is safe."
"What are you talking about?" Ragia frowned.
"It wasn't... the Krall," Lacrosse choked out. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. "The ambush... on Vixia VII. They knew our coordinates. They knew exactly where we would be."
"Who knew?" Ragia asked. A cold feeling settled in his stomach.
"The traitor," Lacrosse hissed. "In the Council. Reagalus High Council."
Ragia stiffened. "Vexal? Was it Vexal?"
Lacrosse shook his head. A tiny, weak movement.
"No," Lacrosse whispered. "Not Vexal. Someone else. Someone... you would never suspect. Someone who smiles..."
His grip tightened on Ragia's jacket.
"He sold us out, Ragia. He fed us to the Queen. And he is coming... for you."
Lacrosse's eyes rolled back. His hand slipped from Ragia's jacket.
"He is out," Shorty announced. "Vitals are stabilizing, but he is in a coma. He needs rest."
Ragia stood there. Frozen.
The adrenaline of the rescue was gone. Replaced by something colder.
A traitor.
In the High Council.
Ragia looked at Raya. She had heard it too. She was staring at her datapad, her face pale.
"Prof," Ragia said. His voice was hard. "That data trail you found. The anomalies."
"Yes, Capt?" Raya whispered.
"Does it link to a Council member?"
Raya adjusted her glasses. Her hand was shaking.
"It links to a ghost," Raya said. "A ghost with a very high security clearance."
Ragia turned to look out the viewport. The stars looked different now. They didn't look like hope. They looked like eyes. Watching. Waiting.
"Welcome to the conspiracy," Ragia muttered to himself.
He touched the spot on his chest where his scar was.
"Narrator?"
Yes, Ragia?
"Don't get comfortable," Ragia said, his golden eyes reflecting the cold void. "I think the easy part is over."
He was right.
Because nothing in this universe stays quiet for long.
Balalaika...
Do you hear that?
That is the sound of the plot thickening.