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Seems they want you alive. How dreadful. If you'd known that you would have put up more of a fight. But now you're in chains with the nose of a rifle to your temple and it's a bit late for that. Your crew haven't been granted the same honor and the bounty hunters remind them of that as they round everyone up and appraise their suitability for the slave markets. Meanwhile, you'll most likely end up in the hands of the Governor's Men or some equally nasty cohort.
The brutes descended upon you like smoke, appearing out of the House's eternal night with little more than a whisper. Your crew put up a good show at the vessel's guns but you were all too quickly overwhelmed and your kinetopede boarded.
You can't help but feel that things would have gone somewhat better had your Guard Captain been even the slightest bit lucid but Ashen has been in one of her catatonic fugues for the last two days. In fact, as the bounty hunters are raiding the galley you notice Ashen is still sitting stock still on a crate with her one eye straight ahead, glassy and staring into the great middle distance. It's a wonder the cannon-fire and commotion didn't snap her out of it. Perhaps it only pushed her deeper into the trance.
One of your captors snaps at her to get moving. She doesn't respond. Obviously. He reaches for his baton and you think maybe you ought to do something.
"Er, I wouldn't if I were you," you call.
"Quiet, you," commands the masked man holding the rifle to your head. You politely try to explain yourself, you're just being helpful after all, and he repeats the command and strikes you across the head with the sturdy butt of the rifle hard enough that your vision swims with stars. "We need you alive," the masked man says, "But no one's specified by how much."
You find it to be a very persuasive threat and shut your mouth.
Across the galley the unfortunate chap jabs at your Guard Captain with the baton. You blink and in the next moment she has him up against the wall with a knife to his throat. It takes her a fraction of a second to regain her bearings and take stock of the situation: strangers aboard the kinetopede, half the crew in irons, the captain on their knees. You give her the slightest nod but you're not sure she even sees it. She doesn't need to.
Blood sprays from the man's neck following a quick movement of Ashen's knife and he slumps to the floor. The rest of your captors raise a chorus of shouts and draw pistols, knives, batons in Ashen's direction.
You seize the moment to launch yourself sideways off your knees and throw your shoulder into the masked man's stomach. He doubles over and you yank the rifle out of his hands before he can fire, toss the weapon out of reach, and tackle him to the ground. With your hands clenched into fists you clobber him several times, grateful for the extra weight of the irons.
A shot rings out behind you and your shoulder erupts into blinding pain. The force of the bullet knocks you to the ground where you breathe sharply through clenched teeth. You manage enough grit to crane your neck and see a bloody exit wound. Bloody, but remarkably clean. Seems luck is doing you all sorts of favors today.
The rest of your crew has taken the cue and jumped into action fighting back against your captors. Ashen has already dispatched three more of them. There's blood on her hands and on her face and -- dear god, is that her gun? Where was she possibly keeping that one?
The handful of bounty hunters still standing quickly surrender and you have them unchain everyone, drag the bodies back to their own kinetopede, and bring you the best of their supplies. You leave them in the dark with a rude gesture and a single barrel of fuel to get them back to civilization and go to find your Guard Captain.
"Excellent work, Ashen," you tell her and clasp her shoulder jovially. Only once you've done it do you realize it might be a risky gesture but Ashen only gives your hand and then your bloodied shoulder a cool appraisal. "At our next stop I owe you a case of hazard-coffee. You've earned it."
She doesn't smile, only twitches one heavily scarred eyebrow at the praise. " 'Ppreciate it, boss. Sorry about the mess."