Halajay was keeping the prince hidden in the corridor behind me, but I needed to keep the insurgents distracted long enough for the unseen helper in the shadows of the vivarium to take them all out without anyone realizing.
Multiple icons popped up on my HUD visor as the insurgent before me trembled, his aim wavering. I focused on one of the symbols, and the glass shutters of the vivarium began to close.
"Wha—what's going on?"
That moment of hesitation was all I needed. My thrust pack roared to life, propelling me forward in a burst of speed. I wrenched the gun away from the hostage's head just as the insurgent squeezed the trigger. A bullet fired harmlessly into the roof—right before my knife drove straight through his eye.
As his body went limp, I shoved the hostage to the ground and rolled just in time to avoid a hail of bullets. Sliding across the dirt, I barely managed to reach cover behind a rock, but not before one round grazed my thigh. Another punched clean through my combat overall, embedding itself in my leg.
"Ugh!" Gritting my teeth, I yanked my injured leg in and quickly checked the wound. "Only pierced the flesh..." I exhaled, relieved, though the bullet was still lodged inside. My overall had kept it from going too deep, but the pain burned hot beneath the fabric.
"Shit! Do they not care about the hostages?!" one of the insurgents yelled.
"We need backup in the vivarium! Over!" another screamed into his radio.
I gripped the submachine gun, shifting my position. "How many hostiles left?"
[Under seven, pilot. The shadow accomplice is working fast,] Andromeda reported. Another storm of bullets slammed into the rock behind me, one ricocheting close enough to kick up dust in my visor. [Keep them distracted.]
Propping my gun atop the rock, I fired in short bursts, sending the sharp crack of gunfire echoing across the vivarium. The hostages' screams were drowned out by the chaos. I wasn't aiming to hit—only to keep their heads down. Ducking back into cover before a retaliation round could find me, I muttered, "I only counted five. Where's the sixth and seventh?"
[The enemy has yet to realize they've been pincered,] Andromeda noted. [Check your fire.]
I peeked out again, unloading the rest of my magazine into a tree trunk. One bullet clipped an insurgent's arm before another riddled his skull, dropping him instantly. At the same time, I caught a glimpse of a shadow slicing through the back of their formation—swift, precise, cutting them down one by one.
[Three targets left,] Andromeda confirmed.
Reloading, I barely had time to react before a scream cut through the chaos. One insurgent had gotten smart, grabbing a hostage—a woman—and using her as a human shield while spraying bullets wildly in my direction. Ignoring him, I aimed for another insurgent near a lamppost. A shot to the leg sent him staggering, then I emptied my clip into his chest, his flimsy armour offering no protection.
Then—silence.
All gunfire ceased. The only sounds were the hostages' panicked whispers.
Reloading my last magazine, I peered over the rock's edge. The shadow moved fast, closing in on the insurgent holding the woman hostage. In one fluid motion, his knife sliced through the man's throat, and he collapsed, gurgling.
I stepped out from cover, my gun raised, approaching my so-called 'helper' cautiously. "Identify. Name, rank, and company."
"Whoa, is that how you thank someone who just saved your ass?" The black-haired man smirked, ignoring me entirely as he turned to the rescued woman. "Besides, I'm a little busy with this fine rose here." He inched closer, nearly brushing his lips against her hand.
[Evan Trey. Captain from the Rogue Raven Battalion,] Andromeda informed me over the intercom. [Thank you for your assistance in rescuing the hostages.]
Evan helped the trembling woman sit down before glancing up at the ceiling in mild annoyance. "So that was you closing all the shutters, huh? No wonder this one charged in like a madman."
"We spotted you taking out the insurgents over the cameras." I limped closer, the pain in my leg flaring with each step. "Thanks to your interference, the hostages are safe."
"Uh-huh." He raised his knife to my neck, eyes narrowing. "Now, it's pretty obvious we're on the same side. But I've never seen gear like yours before." He gestured toward my pilot helmet and combat armour. "So, who exactly are you supposed to be?"
I clicked the hammer of my handgun, pressing it under his chin. "Pilot Firefly."
Evan grimaced at the cold steel against his skin. "A pilot to a knight, huh? How'd you get on the station?"
"We flew," I said flatly, tension thick between us. "The warship Faraway in Winter is scheduled to arrive in an hour. My knight and I were fired from one of its missile silos, deployed in response to a disguised distress signal during pre-docking procedure."
Evan's knife lowered, and I eased my gun away. His lips curled into a smirk. "You got shot out of a missile silo? That's absolutely insane."
I turned to leave. "Since you say so, Captain Trey." Limping out of the vivarium, I called out, "Your Majesty—" before something small and fast barrelled into my waist. "You're still safe. That's good."
Halajay winced. "Ugh... Sorry, my wounds are acting up."
"You've done more than enough. The vivarium is clear—someone inside might be a doctor." He nodded weakly and hobbled toward the greenery while another voice behind me exclaimed,
"Wait—is that the prince?!" Evan sounded utterly dumbfounded as he gawked at the little boy hugging my waist. "What the hell is he doing here?!"
Kneeling, I wiped the tears from prince Alexander's face. "He snuck onto the station with his escort before the insurgents took over. He's been hiding in the lower floors ever since." My voice lowered. "The escort didn't make it. He's the reason I was sent here."
"Seriously? How did whoever sent that SOS even know he was here?" Evan asked, scratching his head in disbelief.
I adjusted the prince in my arms, shifting him onto my back like before. "Maybe the escort bribed them to keep quiet when they first arrived. Doesn't matter now—he's safe." I turned to leave, but Evan grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.
"You're just going to take him with you—hang on." His fingers pressed into my wrist, feeling the structure beneath my glove. His eyes widened. "You're a woman? Oh my."
His voice carried a note of surprise, but his blush was what irritated me most. I felt an overwhelming urge to punch him just for touching me.
"A-anyway," he stammered, shaking off his shock, "taking the prince into a war zone is insane! He could get hurt!"
Behind me, the prince tightened his grip and mumbled, "I want to stay with Firefly."
Evan looked slack-jawed, as if he'd just witnessed some heresy unfold before him.
I held his gaze, unwavering. "We don't know if the insurgents have people hiding among the hostages. If he's with me, I can ensure his safety on the way to the communications office. Once we get a signal out, all we have to do is hold out until Faraway in Winter arrives."
Evan exhaled sharply. "Okay, I see your point, but there are two huge problems with that plan." He held up two fingers. "One, you don't have a Knight. And two, Filch Alsier does."
That gave me pause. "How do you know?"
"Because that's how he took over this whole damn place. His Knight is a monster—a peacock that can sprint a hundred meters in three seconds and tore through all the guards like paper. Not even a rocket slowed it down. That's how I got captured along with the others."
I tapped Andromeda on my belt and grinned behind my pilot helmet. "I think I can handle him if it comes to that. But first, we need to inform Faraway in Winter. Will you help me protect the prince, or are you going to keep hiding up here like before I arrived?"
Evan opened his mouth to argue, but after a moment, he deflated. He couldn't deny I was right.
"...Honestly. All pilots are so damn proud," he grumbled. "Fine. You win, Miss Firefly. I'll go along with your plan—but the second Filch shows up, I'm grabbing the prince and running."
I extended my hand. Evan shook it, holding on a little too long before I pulled away. My other hand twitched with the temptation to slap him, but he let go and darted ahead before I could.
"Okay, okay! Let's move!" he called over his shoulder. "You're a violent lady, aren't you?"
"No!" the prince protested. "Firefly is very kind! Take that back, or I'll... I'll execute you!"
Evan paled. Realizing his mistake, he dropped into a deep, theatrical bow. "My apologies, Your Majesty."
I ruffled the prince's dirty hair. "Please don't worry about me too much, Your Highness. I can take care of myself."
"But..." He pressed his chin against my shoulder, reluctant. After a moment, he sighed. "Okay."
I wished I could reassure him more, but my thigh wound was worsening. The pain was spreading, a deep, searing burn with every step. I might've underestimated how bad it was—if the bullet had lodged deeper than I thought, this could turn ugly fast.
When we reached the elevator, Evan took in the carnage left from my earlier fight. He let out an appreciative whistle, pressing the call button. "You do good work. Most pilots I've met were useless without their Knights."
I ignored him, peeling back the fabric of my combat overall at my thigh to check the wound. The bleeding hadn't stopped. The pain only got worse.
"You got hit?" Evan crouched down to examine it. His fingers traced over the hole in my leg, clicking his tongue. "Kevlar lining stopped the bullet from ripping through, but it's lodged in the muscle. Not too deep—I can fish it out with my knife."
"Do it," I gritted out, already lifting my leather jackets sleeve to bite down on it.
Evan didn't hesitate. The blade pressed into my skin, sharp and precise. Pain flared white-hot, and I sank my teeth into the leather. A muffled hiss escaped my throat. The prince winced, his small hands clenched into fists as he watched.
A moment later, Evan held up the bloody bullet. "Low calibre. Should be fine, but don't put too much weight on your leg."
"Noted." My breaths came unevenly as I unwrapped a bandage from my belt. Evan helped me secure it just before the elevator arrived.
"I'll be fine until we find some bio-foam. Morphine would be nice, too." I straightened as the doors slid open, forcing my weight onto my good leg. The prince clung tighter to my back, silent with worry.
"We'll take the floor above communications," Evan said, pressing the button for 51. "There's a passage leading right over the office. Doubt the insurgents know about it, so it should be empty."
"And we can hit them from an unexpected angle."
"Exactly." He glanced down at my leg. "And give you a chance to adjust to that limp."
As soon as we reached the 51st floor, Evan took point with his gun raised. "Clear. Stick close and follow me."
I jogged after him, my limp slowing me down, but the pain dulled under the adrenaline.
"Andromeda, how's the situation?" I asked, keeping pace behind Evan as he swiftly checked corners and hallways, moving like a shadow.
[Faraway in Winter is 50 minutes from docking. The majority of insurgents are concentrated between floors 45 and 48, which connect to the hangars. However, some may be avoiding detection. The assumed Filch Alsier is currently drinking in Hangar 6, awaiting the docking.]
"Damn, I wish I had a little voice in my head feeding me intel," Evan muttered, strutting down another corridor lined with plastic plants. He smirked at me.
"I only have one radio, and it's built into my helmet. Sorry," I replied.
"Ah, I get it. Keep your distance from uncertainties. Even if your friend verified my identity, I could always be some imposter wearing makeup to look like Evan Trey. Not that anyone could ever get my hair right. Perfection like this can't be faked."
I rolled my eyes behind my helmet. The prince made a disgusted noise against my shoulder.
Evan led us into what looked like an observation room, a long glass panel showcasing the vastness of space. He knelt, peeling up sections of the floor until he reached a hidden vent. "Like I said—secret passage."
I set the prince down from my back and joined him, peering through the grate. Below, nine insurgents stood around the communications array.
"I count nine," I murmured. "You take the left, I'll take the right."
"No, I want the right. You take the left," Evan countered in a whisper as he carefully removed the vent cover.
"Fine. Andromeda, kill the lights in that room for three seconds when we enter."
[Ready.]
Evan and I exchanged glances, weapons poised.
"Jump."
We dropped through the hole. The moment our feet hit the floor, the lights went out. Gunfire erupted, muzzles flashing in the darkness. Three seconds. That was all we needed.
The lights flickered back on. Three bodies lay at my feet, a fourth groaning as he clutched his shoulder. Across the room, Evan had taken down the other five.
"Nice shooting," he said, walking over to the wounded insurgent. "I'll interrogate him. Got some questions I need answered. You handle the lockdown."
I stepped over to the terminal, plugged Andromeda in, and checked the screen. "How's it looking?"
[The communications array has multiple failsafe's. If any are triggered, the consequences are unclear.] Andromeda had already begun working. [Twenty minutes required to disable all failsafe's. Afterward, only one device will be able to send a message. Locking down this floor now.]
"Do it." I turned and reached up toward the prince, who was peering nervously from above. "Your Majesty, jump down. I'll catch you."
The prince hesitated, rocking back and forth to psych himself up. But then he leaned too far forward—
"Ahh!" I barely widened my stance in time before he fell into my arms. My knees nearly buckled under his weight, and a sharp spike of pain shot up my leg. "Y-Your leg..." he murmured.
"I'm fine, Your Majesty." I forced the words out, shoving the pain aside. I'd put too much weight on my left leg. Between the jump and catching him, I was pushing the wound too hard.
I set him down gently and limped back to the terminal, easing into a chair. Peeling back the bandage, I saw the wound had torn slightly wider. Not good.
Digging through my belt, I found a small pack of morphine I must've forgotten about. Good. I injected it into my thigh. The prince hovered worriedly. When I pulled out a stapler, he gasped and covered his eyes—but still peeked between his fingers.
Three quick punctures. The staples pinched the skin shut, stopping the bleeding. Breathing easier now that the morphine dulled the worst of it, I wrapped a fresh bandage around the wound.
"That was useless," Evan muttered, walking over and fiddling with a radio with the now dead insurgent behind him. He dropped into the chair across from me just as I slid off my pilot helmet. "This room is soundproof, so no one should've heard us barging in, but we should stay alert just in case."
"Andromeda already initiated a lockdown across this entire floor," I said, setting my helmet aside. "Unless they have blast charges or heavy equipment, they won't be able to get through the door."
Evan chuckled. "So you locked us in, huh?" He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Not a bad move, since fighting 300 guys alone isn't exactly ideal."
Then his gaze drifted to my face. Now that I wasn't wearing the helmet, and with the prince still fretting over my wound, Evan had a clear view.
A slow grin spread across his face. "Well, I suppose there are worse places to be trapped. I've got a first-class view of a fairy, after all."