Subjugation

[Halcyon]

---

CHAPTER III - The Python

---

-- October 25th, 13:12 HR [Copernicus]

They were caught completely by surprise as the Pleco passed into Copernicus. The few escort ships left at the beck and call of the Subjugator swarmed upon the gunboat and its escort without much warning, though these victims were willing to put up a fight.

"Silencers! Oh damn, can the shields hold out!?" One of the bridge crew on the old cruiser called out as the missile alarm blared for all to hear. The gunboat was fighting back, but the Subjugator had the drop on them and capitalized on the advantage. The Pleco was dealt a critical blow, as its torpedo bays overloaded and begun to detonate in their storage. A miscalculation by the Stokes, and a lucky hit by the Razor batteries on the Judicator.

The crew on the gunboat were struggling to maintain composure. Caught with their pants down at point blank range, they were outnumbered and outgunned. Even with the experienced members that had been handpicked for the journey, they weren't prepared enough for an ambush by a party they had believed to have fled the area a day prior.

A grave miscalculation indeed.

---

---

Leviathan steadied himself on the console in front of him, commanding his crew in the heat of the moment. The Curator was at his side, with four others on the ship. He was travelling light, and swift. Though it didn't matter here. They stepped right into the claws of a steel trap, and were paying the price.

Leviathan watched as Civil Servant was chased by the vessel's escorts, and fired upon by Burningfists in his efforts to defend himself. Their struggle was to no avail.

"Sir, the bays are ov-" Stokes was interrupted as his eyes widened at the alerts on his display. The missiles in the bays were popping like popcorn, and the electromagnetic payload of the Silencers sent a shockwave through the ship, disrupting its systems and overloading its refraction screen. The consoles flickered and died right in front of them, as the ship lurched to its side. Half of its thrusters shut down, with the other half overloading and misfiring at random intervals. Stokes was thrown forward into the console head first. The glass shattered on the terminal off his forehead, and he slumped to the side in his seat.

Though the worst of the blast hit their Commander. The steel panels that make up the sleek wall to the back of the command chair exploded outwards as cables, sparks and flames shot out from overloaded conduits. The panels above Leviathan collapsed and covered him in debris and damaged electronics. The contact sent a shock through his endoskeleton, tensing his body and artificial muscles. He went rigid and groaned out as his optical implants shut down. The pain was severe.

:: ALERT - ENGRAM SECURITY COMPROMISED - DISCONNECTING NEURAL NODE FOR SAFEGUARD ::

'What?!' Nonono-'

Leviathan's body shut itself down as a safety measure from the surge. A means of keeping its artificial organs from being overloaded, or the engram from being disrupted. The final seconds of consciousness sent an automated distress beacon, routed straight through the Python's communications array. The blast from the bay had corrupted the output, however.

No information managed to be sent reliably.

"NoooOOO!" He tried to yell, unable to as his motor functions shut off. His reality shifted as the bridge faded from view and sound.

He was alone. It was dark. Still awake, but disconnected from himself.

Another blast from the Subjugator knocked out their helm station and co-pilot. The pilot over in their seat from the blasts out of their stations. Foulke was tossed into the air alongside Ganes, and the two collided with each other. Ganes soon hit the floor a foot away from Foulke, who landed close to the exit of the bridge. The wind was completely knocked out of him. The room was starting to fill with smoke as multicolored warning lights blinked at an inconsistent pace. The surge from the missile bays had completely crippled their ship. There was no indication what was going on in the battle outside, but they weren't dead yet.

Foulke scrambled up on his hands and knees, looking around the cabin in a daze. His cybernetic arm was struggling from the surge, and helmet was knocked loose and rolled free somewhere. Ganes had gotten up on his feet, and was searching for a fire extinguisher. Buckett, the co-pilot of the crew, had gotten up to assist Ganes. There was no use staying seated if the terminals weren't responding. The fires needed to be put out.

A loud clamp broke the silence and refocused Foulke's senses. Something had locked on to the ship. A boarding clamp.

It was only a matter of time. Minutes. Seconds, maybe.

Foulke struggled to pull himself up to his feet, looking over to the command chair. His heart sank a moment as he saw Leviathan slumped under a pile of debris, and Stokes out cold in his seat not far past the masked figurehead. The stress was kicking in. Thoughts of the crash of the Apollo from many years prior tugged at his mind. His focus was broken for a moment.

"Firmitas!" Ganes yelled from the other end of the cabin. As Foulke turned to answer, the door opened behind Ganes and Buckett to several men in sealed mishmoshed combat armor, painted in a variety of vibrant colors. The biggest of the group raised his pistol to Buckett's head, and fired. The noise was deafening without Foulke's helmet on. Ganes flinched from the sound, and was immediately struck by a second man who stormed past the first with a baton. Ganes tried to regain his balance, and swung back at his assailant. Before long, they were pinning the Navy veteran down and beating him unconscious.

Two more attackers broke past him as Buckett's body hit the ground. They were headed straight for Foulke, armed with assault weapons and another baton. They jumped on him before he had time to scramble for his weapon. Their attacks were swift, vicious and aimed right for every exposed weak point they could find. More and more trickled in, overpowering the survivors just with sheer numerical superiority. It was over.

Time had run out.

---

-- October 25th, 13:34 HR [Copernicus]

Drake stood in the doorway, looking on as his boarding party stormed the cabin and swarmed the survivors. "Grab the rest. Dead go to the Doc straight away." He shouted as they subdued the stragglers. Two of the Rogues had Ganes up by his arms. The one-eyed man was slumped down, out like a light. Blood dripped from his lips as the attackers dragged him out of the bridge. He watched as the three struggled to subdue Foulke, who was kicking and wildly swinging what appeared to be a limp arm at his assailants.

Despite the panicked flailing, he managed to hit one pretty good in upside the head, staggering the Rogue for a second. "Asshole!" The Rogue yelled out as he hit Foulke with the Baton on the side of the head, knocking him unconscious.

The attackers took a moment to catch their breath, as a few others checked the remaining people on board. "Survivor over here!" One called out. They had their fingers pressed to Stokes' neck, searching for a pulse. Two of the goons walked over and lifted Stokes from his chair, dragging him off with Ganes.

Drake walked through and checked the pilot, pushing their head with his pistol and chuckling as they dropped limply onto the floor.

The pilot was dead.

Bucketts was dead.

Two more for the butchers.

Drake turned his attention to the mound of rubble and debris that had piled onto the command chair. A man clad in black was clearly beneath it all, with his arms and legs largely exposed. Yet, he wasn't moving or struggling. Was he dead? The Rogue moved over, gesturing to the remaining three on the bridge to check with him. As one grabbed the metal panel that blocked their view, it zapped him as an electrical current was still passing through. "Ack! Damn thing probably fried the guy." The Rogue said as he pulled his knife from its hiding place in his boot.

He swung for the loose cables above, cutting off the current with a quick few slashes. The cables that had draped down and entangled Leviathan were no longer live. The four Rogues pulled the debris free, and eyed the masked man for a moment. "He's bigger than you, Mason." The Rogue brandishing his knife commented.

"Nice armor, too." Drake added, eyeing Leviathan head to toe. He walked over and yanked the hood of the Technocrat down.

No response.

"Dead or alive! Place your bets." Drake joked as he rubbed his hands together. He gripped the helmet of the Technocrat, and tried to yank it free. Though it was clamped on. He quickly realized force wouldn't work, and felt around for a release. He found the latch behind Leviathan's left ear, and unlocked the helmet from the rest of his gear with a hiss of escaping air.

Drake pulled the painted up helmet off, revealing the face of their captive. He was unconscious. He almost looked lifeless, were it not the breathing that disturbed his peace. Comatose, perhaps. "Guaranteed this guy is worth something to someone." Drake noted as he looked at the helmet. The pirate smirked, placing on the piece of armor. It fit, if a little loose without the locking clamps of the flight suit.

"Dibs." Drake said as he shoved one of the Rogues away. "Armor's mine. Won't fit any of you anyway." He barked out as he begun to strip Leviathan of his equipment. He took his belt, his gun, and each piece of gear. The parts he didn't like or want to wear, he tossed aside like trash. Soon there was nothing left protecting the man, as one of the other Rogues took his cloak.

"This thing is SOFT, dude. I'm gonna use it to pad my bed." The pirate rolled the cloak up into a ball and tucked it under his arm. Drake looked down at their captive, and snapped his fingers. He spoke through the modulator of Leviathan's helmet, which garbled his voice. "Move him. Throw him in with that kid."

"They'll both be dead soon, anyway."

---

-- October 25th, 13:45 HR [Copernicus]

Up on the bridge of the old warship, Lex was irate. The battle had done more damage to his pride and joy than what was initially expected. He had been bleeding resources and men. While he kept his cool on the surface, Adams was furious. His big debut had fallen apart quickly. He feared it all coming undone, and wondered what example could be made now.

"Boss err, the shields ain't comin' back. We're bleedin' power somewhere. Engine again?" One of the crew on the bridge spoke out from a dimly lit console.

The center of the bridge held a hexagonal holo-display table, that the gang seemed to have repurposed into a card table. Adams was sat here, kicking his one foot up as he thought. The news from his crewman had him shoot upright.

"The hell you mean? I thought Lucas fixed that fuckin' leak last night." Lex asked, becoming more irate as the minutes dragged by.

The crewman shrugged, just as confused and annoyed as Lex was. This problem was only going to get worse until it's addressed and they all knew it. It has happened before. This ship was barely clinging together as is. The fight with the Python had caused some serious damage to its propulsion system, and it was fluctuating like a firepit's flame licking up at the sky.

Lex groaned out and threw his cup at the crewman. "Go find that little prick and tell 'em to get the hell in that hotbox and fix the engine!" He barked out as the crewman ducked his makeshift projectile.

"Oi!" The bridge crew commented as he dodged. "He's in the hangar dealin' with the other mark. I'll go tell 'em, but chill the fuck out. We won, didn't we?"

"... Yeah." Lex sighed and settled into his seat.

He scoffed. "I guess we did."

---

-- October 25th, 13:51 HR [Copernicus]

Foulke came to a few minutes later, his right eye swollen shut. His vision was blurry, and he couldn't see much beyond the floor passing beneath him. His cybernetic arm was still limp. Likely the old thing went out in the initial EMP. That explains why he couldn't use it as anything more than a club in the fight. His breathing began to increase, as the gravity of the situation began to set in. With a yell, he planted his feet, and pushed with every ounce of strength he had into the person holding his good arm.

He managed to stagger the pirate into the wall, and break his hand free. Foulke swung wildly for the other man, who was already trying to wrestle control back over the Curator's futile attempt. The first guard swung a baton right for his head, hitting him in the same spot. A high-pitched whine soon filled his ears as his vision faded to black once more. Foulke went limp in the hall, and the guards scooped him right back up.

"Gah, I hate it when they have some fight in 'em." One of the Rogues commented as they entered the brig, and headed for the first cell on their right.

"Least Drake ain't got us movin' that big guy. I got a bad latissimus." The other replied as the cell door struggled to open. They tossed Foulke's limp body into the dark room. There was no moisture here, just dry and dust.

The door closed behind him, leaving Foulke in the dark.

But he wasn't alone.

---