Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'm afraid you'll have to look into learning some new skills, or taking the back seat with your crew. You'll never fly again."

Eramis's blood ran cold, the small office growing far away and closing in all at once. Focusing on the voice of Rhensik, her doctor, became an impossibility. He sounded like he spoke from the far end of a tunnel. "What?"

"Unfortunately, the damage to your extraocular muscles is too great. Your only options are to learn to live with the vision loss, or we could attempt to use some experimental technology and make you an ocular prosthesis," Rhensik replied.

"Then do that."

"It's not a simple procedure, and it won't restore what you had by any measure,"

"I don't care. Do you think I can leave my crew without a commander?" she snapped, a flicker of irritation rising in her hearts. As a Baroness of House Devils, she knew how fickle and flighty the lower ranks of crews could become in the face of a compromised leader. Even Captains would scheme amongst each other to usurp their Barons at the slightest hints of trouble. Habits of the sort ran deep.

"Even If you were to undergo the process of having the prosthetics fitted and it was successful, you would still have to be cleared for flight and all of your duties again. Right now, that isn't something I can do."

Rhensik had been her medic since she was a pup. Few people knew her better than he did, and she knew him just as well. Obfuscating the truth and softening the blows of whatever he diagnosed wasn't a business he dealt in. Unsure that she wanted to hear the answer, she forged ahead and asked, "How long would it take?"

"Manufacturing the eyes would take about three weeks, so the implants I fitted will keep things in shape for the time being," he said. "When they’re ready, we'll book you in for an appointment and do some tests to see how you find them over a few days. Providing all goes to plan, the surgery will be scheduled the same day, and the prosthetics will be implanted into your skull. Recovery would take us into the human new year. Flight clearance shortly after that."

All of his words sounded like meaningless noise to her, silently struggling to keep up with the gravity of the situation. ‘Months? It can’t be, that has to be the worst case scenario,’ she tried to convince herself. Everything he spoke of sounded like it had been pulled straight from her nightmares. "And what if the tests fail?"

"Then you will have to learn to adjust to your vision loss. There's a lot of services we can offer, many others are in your position. Eliksni can be without all four of our eyes and still lead very fulfilling lives."

She chattered at him, agitated. "And those living them are civilians, and lesser Dregs or Vandals."

Rhensik sighed, turning to the interface on his desk and tapping at the screens. Watching his expression, the slight twitch of his mandibles indicated that he was opting not to comment further. "I'll refer you to oculoplastics for them to investigate, they're based within the Devils' Lair with the Kell Guard. You'll get a notification to your Pilot Servitor when they're ready to see you."

Eramis huffed. 'Excellent. The Kell and all his friends get to see me in this state,' she almost willed for her thoughts to be transmitted to Rhensik. 'If I get demoted, I blame you personally.'

"Do you have any other questions?" he asked, blissfully unaware.

"No." Nausea churned in her stomach to mull over what had already been said, let alone any extra blunt honesty he had to offer. 'Not anymore.'

"Good. Now before you go," he rustled in a drawer and brought out a thick roll of fluorescent yellow tape. "I want you to take this with you today, for your Ketch. Trust me when I say that you'll have days where your remaining eyesight is worse."

Eramis struggled not to show her disdain as she stood from the chair and took it off him, giving the reel a turn in her claws. A small, childish part of her felt almost insulted in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, seething at the implication that her own Ketch would become somewhere hostile and unfamiliar.

Rhensik narrowed his eyes reassuringly, sensing her annoyance. "Keep your chin up, the failure rate for installing these prosthetics is very low. I’m confident that you’ll come through this quickly.”

"I'll keep that in mind," she responded, putting the tape away into a pouch to forget about. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

“Take care, travel safe.”

Eramis rolled her eyes at the sentiment, still wounded. ‘Travel safe...as if.’

Heathrow Spaceport was the sole place on Earth that felt like home to Eramis. On the infrequent occasions she moored Devilship Sepiks-Fel-084 there for maintenance and offloading cargo, making time to sit near the trader stalls and see if she spotted any new ships became the highest priority. Watching Skiffs, Ketches, Yachts and more take off and land in an endless stream felt borderline therapeutic. Eliksni had millennia to hone their craft when it came to engineering flying machines. To ignore their beauty was to ignore their own rich history.

It was where she found herself after an hour's travel across the city, and a more taxing one than expected at that. She'd lost count of how many Eliksni she'd bumped into on the Underground trains, relying on memory and moving as part of a crowd to get to her destination.

In hindsight, Rhensik had a point. The once simple journey felt the most unsafe and worrying one she’d experienced in a long time.

Exhausted, she stepped on to the escalator leading to the upper levels of the spaceport. Dregs carrying data pads and all manner of salvage rushed up and down past her, forcing her to keep to one side. 'I wish I had their energy. I need a break.'

As she reached the next floor, her spirits fell further. Constantly shifting crowds of Eliksni filled the marketplace, stalls packed with visitors and the clashing chatter of sellers, buyers, and visitors alike filling the high ceilings in a deafening clamour.

'Why did I bother?' A quiet voice in the back of her mind urged to turn around and go back to the Ketch, and come back closer to the middle of the night when the crowds had lessened. A purely frivolous visit wasn't essential, and she had worked hard enough for one day.

'No. Giving up isn’t an option. I came here to relax.' Eramis shook her head, shoving the moment of weakness aside. Squaring her shoulders, she plunged into the throngs of Devils, weaving through bodies with a determination she didn't know she possessed. Some shifted aside as she moved, allowing her the right of way - the lowest level of recognition a lower rank could offer. Privately grateful for them clearing her path, she kept going until the familiar red awning of her favourite bar popped into view.

She slipped aside into the outer layers of Eliksni and down a narrow opening towards her usual haunt. As always, the rickety little bar stood empty, without a soul lining it.

Unclasping her flask and tapping it on the wooden counter to get the bartender's attention, he turned and beamed when he recognised her.

"Bloody hell, there she is! How've you been?" He sauntered over, his pleased expression faltering within a heartbeat. "Oh no, what happened?"

"A Lightbearer," she spoke curtly, sliding her flask across for him to catch. "You don't want to know."

"Fuckers," he hissed, leaning down to retrieve a bottle of vodka. "Usual, yeah?"

"Please," she nodded, gesturing over her shoulder. "Why is it so busy?"

"I was gonna ask you! It's like every Ketch on the planet showed up at once, we were thinking the Kell called you all back for something."

"I wasn't told about anything, but I'm not the one to ask."

"Weird. Honestly, it's the most packed it's been in months," he hummed. "You watching the ships again?"

"Planning to, providing someone hasn't taken my space."

"It's a good one today, already heard about two near misses in the last twenty minutes. Can't get the staff, eh?" he chuckled, topping off the drink with far too much cherry sweetener.  He handed the flask back, lowering his voice, "Anyway, don't take too long next time. I miss seeing you around here. Come and chat whenever you like."

Eramis smirked, hidden by her helmet. It was nice to be wanted by someone other than a member of her crew. "I'll do my best." she said, exchanging her flask for a handful of Glimmer.

"Cheers! And try going out this way. Keeps you clear of all the craziness," he pointed to a gap in between his stall and the next.

Slipping through the gap with a thanks, she emerged into an emptier part of the market leading down to the viewing platform. Relieved to be free of the crowds, she wandered over to the expanse of glass windows at the far end. Although she'd sat in every seat available at some point or another, 'her' seat - two from the right on the width row back -  happened to offer the best view of the U-shaped runways.

Eramis walked down the rows, taking pause at the empty seats. Even after hundreds of years, and knowing that she had never seen London, a part of her still expected Athrys to be waiting there.

Her mind drifted back to home-Riis, wandering out to open fields with a woolen blanket and basket of fresh fruits. She would sit, binoculars in hand, staring into the sky for hours. Her mate would lean against her, having brought a bundle of reeds or wires, listening quietly to her chatter and weaving a reconstruction of the ships they watched down to the most asinine details. Their shelves soon filled with miniature models, some built sturdier as playthings for pups, and others delicate, for display only.

Knowing intricate details about specific Ketches and the Captains or Barons who owned them was a less lonely affair when someone accompanied her and feigned interest. She knew there were others with her hobby, but finding a group to meet with and while a day away spotting ships from afar was a challenge between her responsibilities, excluding how infrequently she returned to solid ground.

Besides that, it wouldn’t be the same.

Unclasping the lower half of her helmet to hang at one mandible, she took a swig of her drink and shuddered, coming back to reality. Whether it was from the sickening sweetness of Ether, pure cherry flavour and vodka mixed together, or from the memories, she didn’t care to think. Some stones were best left unturned.

Sitting down, she dipped her shoulder to shrug her cape forwards to cover herself in a makeshift blanket. Tilting her head slightly to the side from there, she peered out at the Skiffs making their wobbly descents down the runway, leaving for patrols and missions across the system. ' Newly trained pilots. They have to learn somewhere. '

Her gaze shifted across to the other side of the area, not registering the grey nothingness for a moment. Pondering where the other ships had disappeared to, it hit her like a bullet when she realised she could no longer see them at that angle.

Spitting in annoyance, she moved to the chair opposite, view changed so that the ships leaving were visible, but nothing else.

A rush of anger filled her head, rising from her chest as the weight of the loss fully sunk in. One mistake in judgement stole her hobby away, and nothing would bring back that perfect spot. Short of ripping the chair from its fixtures and carrying it to the opposite end of the concourse, or down to the lower level of port and getting in everyone's way, watching the ships from both sides would never happen without a full set of eyes.

'Rhensik could have told me I'd have this many problems,' she fumed, gaining half a mind to call him once back on her Ketch. ‘Or perhaps it’s both our faults. I’m the one who didn’t ask these questions.’

Giving up on the endeavour before the chair could find itself torn out, Eramis found herself heading briskly back to the escalators. Arriving at ground level, she narrowed her eyes against the cold breeze cutting through the otherwise enclosed area as she stepped off the escalator, starting to pick a route through the streams of movement to the bus stop close by.

Flagging down the approaching shuttle bus, a stream of Devils poured out from it once it came to a stop. All crews returning from voyages, eager for the chance to escape the cramped confines of their Ketches.

She let them pass, trying to ignore the lack of thanks or nods of respect given in her direction for allowing them to leave first, and stepped up into the shuttle. Reaching out for the closest handrail, Eramis frowned when she didn't feel it in her hand. She shuffled forwards until she felt the cool plasteel in her claws, clinging to it tight when the shuttle took off with a lurch, unannounced.

The hulking form of her ship quickly came into view as the shuttle rumbled up the long ramp of the transport lane.  Significantly larger than others by design in order to store her many prizes without constant returns to port, even with two eyes missing, there was no chance of missing it.

Pressing the bell, the shuttle rolled to a halt outside her ship and she disembarked, making her way up the ramp to deck. A Vandal standing guard at the top straightened and gave a swift bow, which she returned in a silent salute without stopping.

Passing the rows of containers stacked up inside the ship's entrance further confirmed that her well disciplined crew were maintaining her standards. Enforcing a strict cleaning regime ensured that they could make the most of what space was available, and keep their reputation of being the most efficient crew in the House. As desperate as other Barons were to take her place, allowing them to take a glimpse of her organisation methods would be digging her own grave into irrelevancy.

She only wished that the rabbit warrens making up the corridors of the ship's could be changed somehow. Curved hallways were difficult to work with, and using nets to hold salvage overhead proved more trouble than it was worth. Crates and cargo boxes lined the halls, instead, and she skirted through the endless collections until she arrived at the quarterdeck.

The doors shifted open, and a murmur of greetings rippled across the room. With the sting of previously being disregarded lessened by her attentive crew, she passed through to scan over their workstations. The apprentice Dregs sat with older Vandals, making adjustments to their weapons systems and plotting star charts from behind large curved screens. She had busied them with identifying routes a Kings Ketch may take to ferry across to Jupiter, the reminder hitting her like the shrapnel from a blast cannon. 'I'll have to tell them that won't be happening...later.'

She slowed as she approached the stairs leading to her quarters, hesitating. Save for the shadows cast by the lighting above, they looked flat to her two eyes. Gaps in the steps that were previously a non-issue yawned into giant, ankle breaking holes to slip through.

Shuffling forwards to the first step, she placed one foot on to it. 'There. Every other step is the same.' Nudging her shin against the next stair confirmed it, and she brought the other foot up to stand diagonally. 'No need to make a show of this, it's stairs.' she thought, raising her head to continue.

Immediately, she caught herself looking down again to check where she was, clicking her mandibles in irritation. 'Everything is the same, Eramis. You walk up these every day. You don't need to look.'  Her back began to prickle, like several sets of eyes were watching her ordeal.

Hackles raising, she snapped her head over the shoulder and scanned over the deck, coiled and ready to pounce on whoever the observers were. Yet nobody was looking. Each pair remained engrossed in their own tasks, chattering quietly amongst themselves with their views blocked by the displays. If they were watching, they were being incredibly discrete about it.

Accepting defeat with the unclear knowledge that she wasn't being observed, she reached a lower hand out to the wall. Her claws scraped at empty air,  forced to lean further and further until she heard the sound of them clicking against the metal. Straightening herself up against it, she took each step one at a time.

Frustration simmered in her chest, bunching her lower hands into fists. 'Why is this so difficult? They haven't changed, what's wrong with me?' Navigating her own ship felt like a gargantuan task that she almost didn't want to entertain. Again, Rhensik was right. She hated to think how everything would look covered in shining fluorescent tape, but the further up the steps she went, the more it looked like a necessity. Either that, or a nuclear route was taken and every stairway in the Ketch was replaced with ramps similar to the ones leading up to the quarterdeck.

Moving down a short hallway, she repeated the process on the steps leading to the bridge, tired of the game by the time she reached the top. The doors hissed open to allow her entry, and she was grateful for the privacy once shut and locked behind her.

The Pilot Servitor whirred at her, attempting some kind of speech which went ignored. It couldn't communicate, as hard as it tried. She had lied during the Ketch's biannual service and said it was a permanent fault. In reality, the wires allowing it access to more complex reasoning were cut by her own hand. Basic calculations and auto pilot were about all it could do, no more advanced than anything a human was capable of producing.

Although some would call it blasphemous to tamper with a Servitor, she saw it as practical. Where other Barons kept Vandals to navigate and left the rest to the machines until their time came to swagger in from their throne room and make a singular decision, her joy came from managing all navigational roles on the bridge. Decisions were kept between herself and no one else, impossible to intercept or sabotage. On top of that, allowing the AI to pilot the Ketch would leave her with more idle time than she knew what to do with, and she knew well from experience that that much downtime was best avoided for her own sanity.

Another bonus was that she couldn’t be observed from the outside - not that the Pilot could see anything from behind the Devils banner obscuring it. The bridge was her private quarters. Having forgone living in the smaller throne room in exchange for additional cargo space, she traded a lavish nest area for somewhere much larger, but utilitarian in nature. Her nest tucked into the far corner near her desk, walls adorned with banners stolen from all Houses to bring some colour into the otherwise dingy room. At the front end were screens showing all the camera feeds throughout the Ketch, and a wide navigation and piloting panel.

Her Ketch was one of the few ships in the House with a bridge ringed by large windows. An experimental design, and not one she had encountered problems with. Viewing what was ahead with her own four eyes felt safer than relying on camera feeds that were liable to being damaged by flying debris. At least if the windows were shattered, her death would be anywhere from relatively quick to instant rather than drawn out unknowingly.

Sidling up to the navigation console, her stomach twisted into knots to note that most of it was no longer visible from where she stood the centre. Camera feeds from around the sides of the ship disappeared, alongside half of the screen showing a map of the planet and local star charts.

Placing her lower hands upon it, she pulled off her helmet and ghosted the tips of her claws across the thick stitches where her face was once unblemished. They had yet to dissolve away and let her forget that anything had ever happened,  but the temporary implants felt close enough to eyes if she thought hard enough. Had it not been for the darkness and slight discomfort on that side, It would have been easy enough to pretend it was all some horrific nightmare that she could wake up from.

And maybe, if she thought hard enough, things could go back to how they were on home-Riis.

Athrys would have known what to do. She would have embraced her tight to see her injury, easing her pain and giving assurance that four eyes or two, she was still the same Eramis. Their pups wouldn't have cared. The village at large would have gathered in support. That was the old way. And the old ways were long gone, along with her mate.

She still felt phantom hands caressing her face on the quietest, loneliest days. Her dreams swung between nightmares that left her wired and anxious for nights at a time, and blissful memories of what once was with no rhyme or reason. A string of night terrors left her unable to sleep for days, tormented by Athrys's howls when the ground cracked and swallowed her up. When she fell behind and couldn't make it to the colony ships to escape. When the nursery collapsed on her-

Eramis shoved the false memories out of her head.

Her insomnia fueled haze led to her downfall, so confident in catching the CX Class Kestrel that surrendered without complaint when she approached. In her fatigue, she hadn't considered the possibility of something being amiss when it capitulated immediately, and that it was always the unlikely ones with a trick up their sleeve. Not a soul on her ship questioned her choices or dared to object to an order.

Everything went so well until the Lightbearer revealed himself and attacked.

She didn't remember what happened between then and waking up in the hospital ward. But the ghoul's face had branded itself into her memory. Her dreams were filled by him stealing the position from Athrys.

She tore his throat out. Fired shrapnel into his brain. Cut and let him bleed. Demanded answers that were never given, and woke each morning with revenge seething through her veins, as searing as the heat of his Light and sharp as the knife-glint plunged deep into her eyes.

She scraped her claws against the console, picturing it as his flesh. The highest insult an Eliksni could give was to steal from another, and to have her vision snatched away by a ghoul who had no conception of rules and laws, stung.

Humans, Lightbearers particularly, were orders of magnitude more cruel than Eliksni. They revelled in suffering, had no empathy for their kind or others. Tearing away livelihoods was a hobby shared by every creature the Great Machine touched.

In one movement, he tried to rip her life away. He didn't have the courtesy to kill her and finish the job. He didn't see a need.

Over the Long Drift, the Light changed. It functioned in an incomprehensible manner. So different to what she used to pray to, and what she traced for centuries across the endless stars. Begging for answers through ritual and worship on why it chose to take everything away from her people became a pointless endeavour.

She was not special. Just the plaything of a once-named god, who would sooner see her life ended than its own. It never answered, and never would again.

‘I have to find him. The machine won’t answer me, but I know he will. I’ll force him to.’ she thought, smouldering. Its proxies could be dealt with. They could be destroyed, unlike the machine itself. Something would face her wrath. If it took cutting down every Risen in the land to find the one she despised, then there was nothing else for it.

A beep at the door turned her attention, instinctively looking up and furrowing her brow when she couldn't see the camera feed above. She tilted her head and spotted Siriks, her Quartermaster, taking up most of the space on the screen as he waited for her to respond.

Her hand hovered over the door mechanism, chewing the inside of her lip. Siriks was privy to many of her personal thoughts and feelings, but she feared if she spoke of how she felt, then she would collapse against him and never get up. All the rage and pain and anguish wasn't meant to be unleashed. He would understand, but she knew not even he could ease her pain. Not when there was nothing to be done but attempt to accept the new reality.

Swallowing back a lump of grief in her throat that she hadn’t noticed until then, she unlocked the door. "Come in."

Siriks lumbered inside, chirruping in greeting. "Glad to see you're back. I was getting worried when you didn't send a message."

Eramis hummed. She lifted her head and stared out through the windows at the rain beading off the hull of the Ketch moored in front, her throat tight.

He came up beside her, on her good side. His lower hand rested on her arm, and a purr rumbled in his chest. "You're shaking."

Only aware of her body at his mention, she realised how tense she had become. Like a coiled spring under too much pressure, stiff and ready to snap. Unclenching her shoulders, she let out a breath and tightened her grip on the console to ground herself. It was warm, having absorbed the ambient heat in the room. Smooth. A constant. The console, and the ship itself, weren't going anywhere.

"What did they say?"

"Apparently, I'll never be flying again," she spoke lowly, pushing down another surge of emotion. "They think my career is finished. I'll have to 're-skill' or make drastic changes to the crew if I wish to continue as I am."

Siriks' expression dropped. "They won't consider mechanical replacements for your eyes?"

"They are. My trial for that is in three weeks. Even if that's suitable, I'll be waiting until next Spring to pilot anything," she clicked her mandibles. "I would assume sitting in port for the next several months is out of the question."

"Does Ursaviks know yet? He won't let everything you have crumble."

Eramis sighed through her nose. Her Kell was a powerful one, with a strong Guard and Barons around him, but as incapable of fully controlling Dregs and Vandals as any other member of the House. "Not yet."

"I'm sure his Guard need capable hands in their own hangars. Offer our services to him while you recover."

"I doubt many would return," Eramis replied.

"You're talking like working for his Guard is a death sentence," he scoffed gently. "It's safer than staying on here with you."

"That's my point. It's safe. Comfortable. Dregs go on scavenging runs across the Channel or assist with construction. Vandals keep citizens in line or sit guard duty around the Lair. They'll think about how good they believe they have it compared to the lifestyle I provide, and go soft."

"It isn't as profitable, though. I think they'll be jealous of what they had when they work for the House instead of themselves."

"Do you think?" she glanced upwards at him. "Put yourself in the role of a Vandal. You spend decades within this Crew, and have enough glints and herealways stored away to consider choosing a mate and taking up a less dangerous career. Do you keep to piracy, or take the easy life directly under the Kell?"

Siriks clicked, making an uncomfortable noise. "I don't think many want that. The lesser crews and their Barons, maybe. Anyone on this Ketch is here for the long haul, there's too many of the same personalities for them to want anything else."

"And if one changes their mind, the rest follow," Eramis grumbled. She tapped her claws against the console in thought. "What can I offer them?"

"Extra Ether for the lower ranks. And maybe a larger cut of all profits might be welcome for the Captains."

"If you all wanted a raise, you could have asked before we got to this point," Eramis rolled her eyes. Glimmer converted to Ether, money, and any other sort of matter. With no use for any additional Ether, and nothing of worth to purchase, offering excess to her crew in a weekly lottery was a 'fun bonus' and kept those lower down the totem pole hopeful in case their time came. Another secret to maintaining relative peace that she hadn’t let the other Barons in on.

Siriks chuckled, narrowing his eyes in encouragement. "No, don't worry. They're happy as they are. But think about it. You give them a higher standard of living. They might be safe hidden away in the Lair or working in the city, but they're on Ursaviks's time. If they think they'll get to take some of the spoils of their work away, they'll get a shock."

“I would hope.”

"It's not worth worrying about it for now, anyway, you've not had the prosthetics tested yet," he purred, hand squeezing her lower arm. "What do you want for now?"

Eramis turned her head to glance at the summary report notification on a nearby screen, left forgotten. "What condition is our fleet in?"

"Your jumpship has a damaged propulsion system; the Kestrel was armed and the Lightbearer chased us when you called for retreat. Phensis is working on it."

A fresh wave of hatred crashed into her. Suddenly, interrogation was no longer high on her mental list of priorities. The Lightbearer was undeserving of the honour. It was one thing to take her eyes, but to attempt to disable her prized jumpship was a grave offense. Had it not been recovered after the fight, the level of confidential intelligence that could have fallen into humanity’s hands sickened her. "And what else?" she grated out.

"Just that. The crew are all happy and healthy, and every other ship is fully operational."

After a brief pause, she decided, "Tell the crew to remain at the ready and say nothing of our conversation until I gather everyone."

"Anything else?"

Eramis hesitated, recalling the roll of tape in her hip pouch. Reaching into it, she handed it to him sharpish before humiliation could stop her. "If they want something to do, find some Dregs and tell them to mark every edge and step on the Ketch. The trip hazards."

She could at least feel glad to see it disappear into his larger hand. "It'll be done."

"Thank you," the words came close to sticking in her throat. She couldn't be thankful in the slightest for being forced to deface her Ketch, her pride and joy. Siriks's usual acceptance and lack of comments about her new state, however, was something to appreciate.

"You know where I am if you want me," he assured her, blinking before he turned to leave

She watched Siriks go, immediately returned to her troubles. Despite  knowing it was a waste of mental energy to worry, the concept of facing her crew sent a tingle of anxiety down her spine. They weren’t ignorant. Rumours spread terrifyingly fast on the confines of a Ketch, they would know what the meeting was called for without being told anything for certain. Standing in front of more than 200 Eliksni, to declare and confirm her injury and the changes that would follow, gave her the feeling that she would be finding a group of armed Vandals at her door one night, or she would be put on trial to see who among them would be a better leader. 

Pushing that out of mind for the moment, Eramis trawled over to her desk. ' Ursaviks needs to know. I can tell him. He should accept it.' Sitting down, she shuffled her chair forwards and propped up her data pad, pulling up her Kell's communications line. Facing everyone else could wait. 

Chapter Text

Reaching an agreement with Ursaviks proved less challenging than Eramis initially believed. Her saving grace was that her position was infallible. Even amongst pirate crews, voting to demote the Baron of a Ketch was an impossibility. A Kell's choice in Baronhood was never challenged unless someone had a death wish. 

Disbanding the crew entirely, however, was one matter they could have raised a vote on and swept the rug out from under her. She considered herself lucky that her crew's only gripes related to working for the Kell and his 'cronies'. Their continued loyalty was a pleasant surprise. Whether it stemmed from genuine enjoyment and contentment in their work, because she offered so much stability, or because they were too scared to say otherwise, she didn't care to find out.

Her optimism only grew when the notification arrived of her appointment to test her ocular prosthetics, stirring hope in her hearts that had long since left.  On the whole, things were looking up and settling as back to close to normal as she knew of, just without her normal responsibilities. 

Sitting in port for the best part of a month led to many frivolous occasions of night-drinking with any other Barons who happened to be present in the city. Mercifully, few questioned her missing eyes and getting drunk helped for her storytelling when faced with someone who did ask. Although by that point, she wasn't certain what lies she had told to who. Phylaks and Kridis joining her on her outings with the express purpose of chiming in with their own made-up versions of what happened didn't help, even if their company was entertaining. 

By Siriks's account, most of her sunrises were spent with her friends, careering down London's streets in a drunken haze and cackling like witches at the bizarre falsehoods the others were convinced of. She wished she had any kind of recollection of those times. Having a constant hangover and foggy memory was far from an existence she planned on continuing. Being called to the Lair for sunrise was a blessing for breaking her routine, and saving her liver.

Eramis walked leisurely down the autumnal avenue, admiring the hedges and gardens lining the path towards the Lair. When Ursaviks first laid claim to the area, it was nothing except for partially flooded land off the river filling blast holes and rubble. Firebombs had barely missed the giant building he decided to call his own, enough so that the superstructure remained intact but the cladding melted away. As greedy as it was to hoard resources to rebuild it and name it as a base of operations in the earliest years after seizing the city, all were forced to admit that it was simply too conveniently placed to have not paid off. 

In the quiet hours of the morning, the streets held nothing but stragglers returning home for the day. Members of the Kell Guard passed her and rumbled greetings as they returned to their homes close by, and nobody else was present or lingering in the gardens. London never slept, but the marked difference between night and day was one to savour. Even if the daylight did hurt her eyes some. 

‘I wonder who’s supposed to be waiting on me,’ she mused. The appointment notification stated that someone would be out at the entrance of the Lair to meet her, and it didn’t take much thinking to understand it was Ursaviks’s means of finding out how she was without being present himself. She tidied and polished her armor specially for the occasion regardless. ‘Maybe Solkis, or Eskiles. They’re tolerable.’

Squinting into the sunlight, the shape of an Eliksni became apparent at the end of the path. It wasn't until she came closer that the figure could be identified, and she groaned under her breath. The seven and a half foot tall Vandal stood beneath a tree was none other than Wethraks. Ursaviks's mate. ‘Sticking out like a sore thumb, as usual.’

She never liked Wethraks. He had served time on scouting crews in a role not dissimilar to her own, and had he not caught the Kell's attention during his proving to rise from Dreghood, he would have stayed doing that. Pure chance put him in the place he was in, rubbing elbows with every influential member of the Houses. His life was laid out on a platter. He didn’t truly know the fear of death or docking in practice. Or what it was like to be ambushed by Lightbearers and their drones. His job was staying safe and playing at diplomatic relations pertaining to the House, like a glorified secretary who happened to have mating rights with the most powerful Eliksni in the system. 

His penchant for sympathising with humans was another matter that she dared not to think about, not seconds away from speaking with him. There were so many other things to focus on instead. His height. His personality. His bodyguard being a candidate for a future Kell. The fact he had a bodyguard and she didn't. The list was unending. 

Wethraks chirped and waved, narrowing his eyes in greeting when she neared. "Eramis, it's good to see you," 

"And you." She didn't mean it.

"I thought I should come and meet you, we've had some changes inside and you'd never find your way to the medical bay," he gestured for her to follow. "How have you been?"

"As well as ever. What about yourself?" 

"Good, good. It's been quite peaceful here. How about this weather, too?”

‘It’s the same every year.’ she thought, pained. Suddenly, the Lair seemed a very long walk away. The cultural shift into discussing the weather at the first available opportunity was gained from the native humans, and it wasn’t a shift she enjoyed so much as was forced to participate in. “Yes, it’s nice to see the leaves falling. Soon we’ll be looking at snow.”

“I’m hoping the Thames freezes over again this year. Have you ever been here to see it?”

“Plenty of times,” Eramis decided against explaining the mischief she, Phylaks and Kridis got up to during the winter. An informal meeting with the Kell’s Mate suggested that disclosing that they and the rest of the Captains in the crew would ditch work to play on the ice and throw snowballs at each other wouldn’t go over well.

“I think we might do something special this year for the Winter Festival, it’s due to be located here again. We’ll have to do something to keep all those Devils entertained,” he chuckled. “And hopefully the gardens don’t get torn up like last time.”

She clicked in agreement, half-focused on the conversation. There had been so many Festivals, and she couldn’t recall being sober for a single one. Not that anyone else was, either. Again, whether she and her Captains were in any way responsible for the previous destruction was questionable.

“What else is there going on,” Wethraks trailed off in thought. “Oh, yes! Ursaviks and I have been talking about having pups."

Eramis stiffened. In a flash, she was back on Riis. Walking into the nursery Athrys designed for the first time, smiling in awe of the swirling patterns on the walls and glittering lights as stars above the nest. Cradling four bundles close, cooing at their tiny, fresh hatched bodies. Feeling the fierce, mother-strong urge to ensure no harm came to them. 

She heard their muffled cries as her mate collected and held them close, while the Great Machine disappeared. She held Athrys, promising she would keep them safe, no matter what. Until the Whirlwind took everything, a blistering cold gale flattening all in its path.

She blinked, startled to be walking amongst grey concrete and orange trees again. Glancing sideways at Wethraks’s face, there was nothing but hope and innocence in his expression, ignorant to her pain. "Oh. Have you?" she didn't expect her voice to sound so strained, clearing her throat.

"Well, maybe. It's a lot of logistics to sort out. I'd have to give up my duties for a while, Ursaviks would need to find the time to be there for them, we need to ensure the Lair is secure…*

'Just let him speak. Don't comment on it, Eramis.' She forced her nerves to steady, but inside her mind boiled over. Every bone in her body begged her to scream at him, over everything. About how lucky he was to get the chance at having a family. To never know a life where everything could be ripped away. What true powerlessness felt like.

But Wethraks was young, born in the final years of the Long Drift. The point of London existing wasn't for him to know her pain, and there was nothing she could do except for make a scene if she chose to comment.

Biting her tongue, she quickened her pace in the hopes of leaving him behind sooner. "I can imagine it would be difficult for a Kell."

Nearing the steps leading to the Lair, anxiety tingled down her spine. Between the lack of contrast and the sun in her eyes, the concrete staircase leading up the lair merged into one grey mass rising up before her. She twitched her head in a search for an alternative route, resigned to the struggle when nothing was apparent. With any luck, Wethraks would be too caught up in the inane chatter to notice any difficulty, and she could tune him out while she focused on not falling on her face.

"Exactly, we're lucky to have the Guard as we do. Any of them would be happy to monitor them as they grow up if something needed our attention," Wethraks nodded. "Those old wives' tales about Kells and nurseries aren't so helpful when it comes to things like this, though." He veered off to one side, beckoning her to come to the wall along the concrete stairs.

'Take those tales as a sign, you stupid pup!' Eramis shouted internally, forced to continue beside him. Kells and their breeding rights were an issue she hadn't gotten her head around, and the thought of a monologue on them made her want to take her dagger and stab it into her ear.

'He's never going to shut up if I don't distract him.' Thinking quickly, she interjected, "Where are we going?"

"Just here," he turned a corner and revealed a ramp leading up to the top of the stairs.

Eramis narrowed her eyes at him. "Really?" 

"Hm?"

"I could have taken the normal route."

"Oh, no!" Wethraks waved his upper hands, mortified. "It's not that - you'll see."

She clicked at him, reluctantly following. The last thing she wanted was his pity, and veiling it under an excuse external to herself annoyed her more than she cared to admit, on top of his unintentionally sickening reminders of her past. She made a mental note to deliberately go down the stairs should he follow her out. It would likely end badly, but he presumably told Ursaviks about everyone he met. Appearing as normal as possible was paramount.

"We had a bit of a situation yesterday. There's no point taking the stairs because you can't get in," he spoke up, pushing the smaller side door open. 

Going through it, Eramis did a double take. A mess of steel, false panels and furniture sat in a tangled heap blocking the main entrance, piled high above her head . The glass pyramid covering the doors remained intact by a hair's breadth, and a long line of metal fencing marked a path that steered clear of the disaster zone from the side door through to the main floor. 

"That was one of our suites," Wethraks answered her question before she could ask. "Which is why we had to move everyone around and go in this way."

'So much for all the work done here,' she almost couldn't tear her eyes off the wreckage, turning to discover more that hadn't been visible on her blind side. A gaping hole in the ceiling exposed the wires and remains of the supporting structure, bent and twisted beyond all repair. 'This can't be fixed in a hurry. Who got docked for this mistake?'

Wethraks started speaking again, and she ignored him in due course. Her gaze fixed on one of her Dregs standing by the far wall. His name escaped her, but she knew his face from asking him to pass her tools when she worked on her stolen human ships. 'Why did they assign a mechanic to a cargo Dregs's job? What good does mixing them all up do? Ursaviks is going to think I'm wasting his time.'

"Is my crew meeting your expectations?* she queried, suspiscous.

"Exceeding them. The engineers have said it's nice to have Eliksni who don't need instructions all the time. If every crew were like yours, we'd all have far less problems."

"Don't get used to it, you're not keeping them."

Wethraks snorted. "We would never! Our Guard Crews are full, anyway. Ursaviks is happy where everything is for now." Arriving at an elevator, he allowed her inside first before following and pressing a button to the next floor. 

Hunched over and pulling her limbs in, she had to wonder why the elevators had yet to be upgraded. It couldn't be comfortable for larger Captains to squeeze inside, and the Barons and Kell simply didn't have the privilege of using them. The high ceilings and wide doorways of the exhibition centre the Lair was constructed from naturally leant itself to its new purpose. Nowhere else could host so many larger Barons or Kells, nor simultaneously had the space to hold his Guard and their crews all at once. Clinging to ancient human means of transportation seemed like preservation for the sake of it over any practical use. 

The Vandal squeezed in beside her, uncomfortably close once the doors shut. He glanced up and chuckled, “Inconvenient, isn’t it?”

Eramis hummed in response, her mind elsewhere in an attempt to ignore the invasion of her personal space. Her thoughts lingered on the unknowns of the appointment. Medical consultations were not something she could admit she looked forward to. In almost every instance, they were to confirm something negative or tell her about a new thing she had wrong. Rhensik always said nature was good at making things, but sometimes it got it wrong. His remark was usually followed by placing her as a perfect example. Close to ideal, but not quite. 

"Do you know who you're meant to be seeing?" The Vandal asked, leading her out of the elevator once it arrived at the upper level.

"Room 7, supposedly."

"Nykras and Veliks. You'll be in good hands with her."

He pushed the door open to a long hallway lined with individual rooms. Her lower arms brushed against the narrow walls, gaining a distinct feeling of claustrophobia as she followed behind. 

He knocked on another door, letting the two of them come through. "Nykras, I've brought Eramis for you," 

"Oh yes, for the vision loss? Come in, come in," a high pitched voice responded. As she entered the room, she saw it belonged to a small Eliksni who seemed scarcely out of Dreghood, wearing a white coat rolled up at the sleeves to fit her. Veliks, a Servitor, hovered in the far corner, giving its own greeting in garbled noise.

"I'll leave you to it, I need to be somewhere else," Wethraks glanced down at his watch then nodded at the three of them. "Good luck!"

Eramis sagged back a little as she took the empty seat left for her. 'Good riddance.'

"Alright, let's not waste any time here. I've read through all of Rhensik's notes and scans ahead of you coming. This is a complex case," Nykras rolled her seat back and stood in the same movement, crossing the room to collect a small metal container. "Now, these are prototypes, they won't look like this when you get your final prosthetics. This is just so I can see what's going on, whether they're working and adjusting to the light, and so on."

She opened up the case, revealing two faintly glowing orbs with blue tinted lenses, miniature cameras formed into the shape of eyes. 

Unnerving didn't quite match the word Eramis wanted. 'This is just for testing,' she reminded herself, more to ease her nerves than anything else. 'They won't let me leave looking that unnatural.'

"You stay still and I'll pop them in," the smaller Eliksni rolled forward in her seat and disappeared from sight. A fingertip gingerly lifted up her front eyelid and rolled out the implant, replacing it with cold metal as the first eye slipped into place. 

Immediately, a prickling like static started up on the inside of her skull, running into the back of her head. Scrunching her face at the uncomfortable sensation, it took her a moment to realize that there was something there on her right side instead of nothing. The view became wider as the second eye was fitted, turning different shades of blue as her brain wrestled to work out the new input. "Is tingling good or bad?" she asked, perturbed.

"Good, that's the connection being made between the sensor on the back of the prosthetics and your optic nerve."

"Everything is fuzzy. And blue." Eramis tried to blink with eyelids that weren't there, and squint with muscles that weren't receptive. A dark blur, presumably Nykras, moved in front of her. The jarring difference of unfocused blue blobs to her right and crystal clear, full colour reality in her left eyes sent her head spinning. 

"It will sharpen in a moment, don’t worry. If you can focus on the chart on the wall and cover over your left eyes for me?" 

Reluctantly, she brought her upper hand to her face and shut both eyes, forcing herself to look through the prosthetics at the pale, undefined shape on the far wall. Their clicking and whirring while the lenses focused themselves sounded deafening in her head, like they were grating a hole in her skull. 

"Read as far as you can and tell me when you can't see the letters anymore."

Eramis dithered. The chart was a series of different sized blobs. She knew they were letters, and could guess at a couple of them but the rest were indecipherable. It crossed her mind to cheat and lift her hand to take a peek at it, unsettled at the lack of change in the image after a few heartbeats of waiting. "I can't read it."

"Let's try some adjustments, this is normal," Nykras assured, picking through a collection of instruments before coming up beside her. "Tell me which is clearer. Number one, or number two?" she asked, flipping the lens back and forth.

She couldn't tell the difference. "Neither."

"Okay, number three, or four?*

The letters remained indiscernible. "Three and four are worse. It's like looking through water."

"That's unusual. Hold still," she reached forward and pressed on the prosthetics.

Eramis flinched, hissing at a pain erupting inside her eye socket and sparking through her skull. She gripped the chair to stop herself lashing out and forced her lower arms to follow suit, squirming. 

"Sorry, that shouldn't hurt," Nykras trailed off, a hint of concern in her voice  *What can you see now?"

Shutting her real eyes again and glancing back to the chart, a dark blob of nothing covered it up. "Darkness," she grunted. 'She damaged them. Great. And this is an expert? '

"Nothing at all?"

"Only the edge. In the centre, there's nothing."

The medic clicked her mandibles a few times, leaning over to remove the prosthetics from the sockets. Mercifully, the sparking pain went away. "I'm going to have Veliks scan you and check something. Turn your head?"

The Servitor drifted to her side, although she didn't see anything besides its purple light washing over her from her other side. It chattered in distorted language to Nykras as it worked, eventually leaving to speak in quieter tones to its handler.

Eramis took up part of her cloak, twisting in around in her claws as she strained to listen to the hushed conversation. Secretive discussions between Eliksni and Servitor seldom meant anything good, and she struggled to remain hopeful. ‘They won’t write anything off so easily, they have to investigate. All of this is normal,’ she assured herself.

Still, the very idea that something had been specifically manufactured over the course of a month to suit her, yet still didn’t work as expected set her on edge. Whether it was a feeling of anxiety or irritation, she couldn’t tell. 

A pregnant silence came over the room. Nykras and Veliks shared a look for a moment before the roller chair creaked and they both faced her. Taking a deep breath and lacing her upper hands together, Nykras spoke, "I understand why this isn’t working now. Your optic nerves have been irreparably damaged. You won't be able to see clearly because the signals aren't being sent to your brain correctly. They physically can't be sent, the pathway isn't there."

Eramis found herself lost for words, a feeling like ice stabbing into her heart.  "Can it be fixed?"

"No. Even with all our advancements, and with everything we learned from the humans, there's nothing we can do."

"So I'm...blind."

"Yes," she said. "I'm sorry, Eramis. I wish there was something I could do for you. Something like this is unprecedented, I've studied for years and never seen anything like this in live Eliksni."

Eramis sat in shock, unable to process anything Nykras explained. 'Blinded. Permanently? It can't be. I don't remember the knife going that deep...what happened before I woke up? Was it because of the surgery? What did they do to me?!'

"Ah...Rhensik will be able to help you further with any problems coming from this," the smaller Eliksni began to type on her holo-screen. “I reckon that he’ll be able to see you soon-”

"There must be something we can do," Eramis interrupted. "We traveled across galaxies to find this star system. And you mean that we can achieve that, conquer most of a planet, and we don't have the medical expertise to fix this?" 

"I know, I know. This is our cutting edge of technology right now," Nykras sounded apologetic.

"The Splicers know nothing?"

She shook her head with an uneasy titter. *I would recommend against asking them for help, they might make matters worse. Maybe in time they'll find a way to solve these problems, but I think injuries like yours are too uncommon for them to investigate."

"But if they have the biological understanding?"

"They don't. Trust me," Nykras tilted her head, indicating she knew more than could be shared. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but rather than engineering a solution, it...might be easier to learn to live with the sight loss-"

She cut her off, the same rage from three weeks prior springing to life. "And take a demotion?!"

"No, I don't think we're looking at that-"

"Why not? That's what you do with all the other Eliksni with something wrong with them! You don't care about who they are, we stop being efficient and obedient and the House wants rid of us!"

"Hold on, Eramis, that's not true, if you just let me speak," Nykras insisted.

She glowered at the smaller Eliksni, trembling. Being told to quiet by someone barely larger than a Dreg felt like a kick in the teeth, but she knew better than to challenge her authority. Technically, she outranked her.

"You can keep your position. I don't see any reason why you would have to quit piracy, or stop by any measure. I actually think you're in the best possible place to continue at the head of your crew. I'm just," she made an uncomfortable noise. "Suggesting that you may lose a little independence."

"Oh, I know. Rhensik said," Eramis spat. "No more flying. No more navigation, or dueling, and relying on machines for everything - what good have they done?! You can hardly produce a device that lets me see again! The only one that works is your Servitor, and he's designed to tell Eliksni they're disabled for life!"

Nykras visibly wrestled with what to say. "I understand your frustration. It's going to be incredibly difficult to adjust to, but it will get better."

"Like hell it will!" Eramis shouted, standing in such a fury that the chair rattled behind her. Rage ran red through her brain, and she knew if she didn’t put distance between herself and the Lair, it was going to end badly. She stormed out of the room and down the corridor, back to the walkway and into the elevator. 

In a blur, she was outside again. Someone called her name, but it was distant, and she was already at the bottom of the ramp by the time it registered. She surged down the avenue, going until she was well out of sight from prying eyes at the end of the street.

Eramis allowed herself to stop and leant back against a tree, closing her eyes and exhaling shakily. Her head spun. First the reminder of Athrys, then the death knell of medical failure. In one fell swoop, the Light took everything. Her home. Her pups. Her mate. Her sight. All gone, and never to return. 

"This cannot be happening," she whispered, shaking her head. "They're all useless." It entered her mind to make her own prosthetics. But anatomy wasn't her specialty. Aerospace was. Navigation, cartography, engineering, was. She knew nothing of what the medics learned in their years of training aside from the essential first aid for the field. Just hard mechanics and calculations, and those too had failed.

She thought of Athrys. Of home. On Riis, opportunity and exploration was abundant. Something told her that if her loss had happened there and not in the shadow of a human city, a solution would have been found. 

'No. The Great Machine isn't that benevolent. It would have scorned me all the same,' her face twisted in renewed anger. ‘It doesn’t want any of us, we don’t fit in. It thinks humans are its prized possession now...there must be a way to appeal to it. Or to do something!’

She couldn't hurt it. But it had proxies. Lightbearers. And she was the Shipstealer. Eliksni followed her because she stood up to the injustice exacted upon them, and she never failed. To roll over and take what was handed to her betrayed her reputation, and betrayed their trust. 

'I'll become the Lightstealer,' she clenched a fist, her grip so hard that her claws pierced the palm of her hand. 'I'll kill that ghoul. I'll flense him apart. He can't escape from me. And then the rest will fall.'

Chapter Text

Eramis scowled at her new helmet. The only difference was a clear polycarbonate lens over the left side, but its presence sparked a fresh wave of annoyance in the perpetual sea of rage she called her brain.

Rhensik didn't offer a choice on the addition. She couldn't have objected even if she wanted to. The ultimatum of ' put a protective lens in your helmet, or lose any chance of returning to the front lines ' was strong enough for her tastes. 

Siriks hovered at her side, putting a hand on top of the helmet and swiveling it adjacent to the spotlight above. "If you turn it this way, you can't see it."

"Yes, but it's visible from every other angle." she sighed, turning it back the other way. Although her doctor's logic was sound and protecting the eyes she had left was reasonable, he knew nothing of the teasing she received for the adjustment. Another Baroness decided to try her luck on her way home. She said something about a safety hat for her delicate little head.

She didn't remember the rest of it, only coming back to reality once back on the bridge and in the process of picking flakes of skin and dried blood out from beneath her claws. In retrospect, the cane that Rhensik also insisted she take (and promptly threw into the garbage disposal) would have been a better weapon to bludgeon her with.

"I promise, nobody's going to notice once they get used to it. Really, we should all be following your lead with the type of work we do."

"You mean the same way nobody noticed I didn't grow to their height when I was promoted?" she scoffed. "Someone always has something to say about me." 

"Good point," Siriks replied, beaten. "What did you tell Rhensik, anyway?"

"You're apparently taking up your intended role and heading the crew, I'm supposedly booking the Ketch to be serviced so the Pilot can be repaired, and the crew returns at some point and we all go back to our old lives to pretend nothing happened."

Her Quartermaster laughed. "And he didn't think it was strange how you gave in?"

"Of course not, there's nothing in his head aside from knowing how to bother me." she replied. Much like Wethraks, Rhensik had little experience in battle, leaving her unconvinced of his and Nykras's conclusions once her head cleared. 

With Siriks's help the night prior, re-training to find her limits had begun. Shooting posed no issues. Sword fighting, however, was out of the question for the foreseeable future. She lost count of the number of little shocks his blade had given her after missing her chance to parry or shove him away. Although it annoyed her at the time, she awoke the next night nonplussed. There was plenty of time to memorize combat techniques from a new perspective.

The real snag came from the possibility of flying. To her, it made sense to attempt to pilot and navigate again. A test flight was the best chance she would get at clawing back to her passion, the thought alone of succeeding making her giddy. If there was a way to recover any lost skills there, then the prospects of finding the Lightbearer would rise dramatically. Locating one human on a whole planet was akin to finding a needle in a haystack when confined to the ground or at the mercy of someone else's flight plans. Putting herself in the pilot’s seat meant she did what she wanted with her time, and if it meant scouring the ends of the Earth to locate him, then it was her choice to make in amongst her other duties.

"Anyway," Siriks straightened up from leaning over the desk. "Do you want to go and train again?"

"Yes, though there is one thing," Eramis turned to face him. "How do you feel about flying?" 

"Me?"

"No, but I want you as backup. I want to take Ilasan and find out whether I can still fly or not."

"Are you sure?" Siriks tilted his head at her. "That's a big step, you're still struggling to move around the Ketch."

She frowned. Were anyone else to say it, she would have ripped their head off. "If I don't try, I won't know. My hope was that you coming with me would solve any problems if anything were to go wrong."

His gaze shifted over to the windows to examine the conditions outside, quiet for a few heartbeats as he thought. Finally, he shrugged. "Okay. Let's go."

Eramis chirped, surprised. "I thought you'd put up more of a fight."

"I know what changing your mind is like," he chuckled, already walking to the door. "It's quiet tonight, now's a better time than ever."

She grinned. Phylaks and Kridis were enablers, but neither came close to the willingness Siriks held to go along with whatever concept she presented. Scampering after him, she followed close by his side down to the lowest level of the Ketch.

The hangar was already clear, a makeshift firing range set up at the back wall and the floorspace cleared into a practice ring for sparring. A rack of swords, daggers and an assortment of rifles and pistols were propped up against a tall tool box, and Siriks jogged ahead to move it out of the way. 

Eramis walked down the line of ships, stopping at the large Arcadian jumpship, nicknamed Ilasan. She named and detailed it after the Wolf crew that located it. Her crew simply happened to arrive before they could and took it from them. It served them right for not encrypting their communications properly, but she thought it rude to keep all the glory to themselves. 

The dirt and dents covering its pure white exterior hurt her every time she saw it. Blending in with human ships was more important than her pride, but given the opportunity she would have savoured spending a day polishing its exterior back to a brilliant white and royal blue.

Clicking a button on the universal key hanging at her hip, the ramp came down from the ship and clunked to the ground. She ducked her head on instinct as she walked up it, forgetting her helmet was back on the bridge. Behind her, she heard several sets of claws tapping against the metal grate as Siriks got down on all six to miss hitting his head in the entryway..

"Why was it you picked the one ship that can't fit me in it as your favourite again?" he grumbled, unable to stop himself from laughing as he attempted to stand up straight and bumped into the ceiling.

"I do it to spite you personally," Eramis smirked, coming to the pilot’s seat and stopping. Siriks had a point. Him fitting in the narrow confines of the cockpit was wistful thinking on her behalf. If anything went wrong, he was too wide-set to even consider squeezing into the chair and taking the controls. It had already been refitted to suit her height and additional limbs, but she hadn't envisioned anyone taller than herself needing to take control. 

Pushing any thought of needing him out of her mind, Eramis climbed into the seat and sank back against the worn leather. A third of the display disappeared from her eyeline looking straight ahead, as did the view in the windscreen. When she turned her head for a wider field of view, her vision unfocused slightly, attempting to process more than expected. 'This cannot be safe.' 

With the most essential instruments and tools off to her right hand side, a concerning amount was missing from view. She remembered what it should look like with all four eyes, a mental image in her mind all there was to ascertain what was where. A sense of finality washed over her, close to getting up and deciding they would try another time.

"Do you still definitely want to do this?" Siriks questioned, standing at her blind side. 

Eramis paused. Taking to the sky, even only a few thousand feet up, felt scarier than expected. The Ilasan was too nice a ship to get into a collision, and hurting Siriks or herself would turn a bad situation worse. "Yes. I must."

Trembling, she flicked a switch and the engines spun to life, warming up while the displays flickered on. Muscle memory guided the rest of her movements to get the ship flight ready, not needing to look to know where each button and panel was. Flexing her claws, she wrapped her upper hands around the flight stick and gave it an experimental jerk back and forth. They moved as smoothly as ever, owed to her own engineering. Anything less than perfection was unacceptable, and the Ilasan was no exception.

Easing the throttle forward, the ship rose and disengaged from its energy tethers moving forward from the hangar at a crawling pace. She glanced to both sides before pushing further out and into the semi-empty shipyard. In the wide loading lanes between each vessel, the chance of veering off course and bumping into another Baron's ship was thankfully non-existent.

Opting to forgo falling into formation on the runway and debating her clearance with the air traffic wardens, she made a hard right and allowed the ship to climb automatically, set on its traditional route away from the Ketch. Glancing out to one side over to the runways, she noted she was the only ship coming or going during the temporary lull.

'Hopefully they won't notice.' If they wanted to be difficult, there was always the backup claim of human made ships being outside all aerospace regulations for how resource heavy they were to refit to Eliksni baselines. She was the one who discovered and campaigned for that ruling, after all. 

Sailing over the top of port and into the glittering city skies, she was reminded of late night outings on Riis. The skyline was similar enough after 50 years of rebuilding, with the same constant streams of ships overhead and the bustle below in the streets. Earth could feel alienating at the best of times, from its unforgiving climate to the darkness of its nights, but places like London provided feelings of nostalgia to be comforting enough.

The Ilasan closed in on the nearest traffic lanes, a route encircling the outskirts of the city. Eramis pulled the brakes and set the ship to hover in place, leaning forward to stare out at the approaching lights of transport ships. Logically, they had to be moving along at the city speed limit. Her brain said they were slower, just glints of red on each wing hovering in the near distance. "How fast are those moving?"

"They’re coming quick," the chair creaked as Siriks squashed closer to peer over the top of it. "I'll tell you when to go.”

She gripped the controls tighter, knuckles turning pale. 'This will be fine, there's no reason I can't pull in. I've done this thousands of times before,'  Suddenly, she was glad for fiddling so much with the Ilasan’s flight computers and controls. Its simplistic autopilot likely could have salvaged even the most dangerous of attempts to pilot it, but staying static in one place felt magnitudes safer than merging in one continuous movement. 

The oncoming ship passed, leaving a large gap between it and the next one. "Okay, now," Siriks's upper hand unconsciously moved down to her lower, pushing the throttle forward a touch. 

"I know," she batted him away, fearing both trying to drive at once would lead to some kind of accident. Keeping one eye on the traffic and the other in front of her, she let the ship move and slot itself into position in the flight lane. She switched the autopilot on as soon as it settled in place in the traffic, sitting back and rubbing her eyes. "Eliksni weren't made to look in two directions at once."

"Maybe, but look where we are! You can fly!" Siriks beamed.

"This is just civilian traffic, don't get ahead of yourself," she replied. "I need to go further."

"We'll go further tomorrow, let's stick with this for tonight. It's good practice."

Siriks's presence distinctly reminded her of her first flying lessons again. Sitting and re-learning the ability to do something she had never questioned before brought everything back in an onslaught. Her gaze unfocused, and a pang of sadness washed over her.

Her father taught her as soon as she was old enough to sit in his lap and peer over the controls. He did most of the piloting, but her little hands rested over the top of his to mimic the movements. She did the same with her first litters, almost able to feel the weight of their tiny bodies again jostling around her lap and squabbling on who would get to ‘fly’ the ship first. Athrys tended to join the chaos and stand where Siriks was in case things got too out of hand. Nothing could replace what they had. 

Phylaks once gently asked if she would be interested in having pups again. She offered that she'd be the one to hatch them, even if it was  'for the hell of it' - her wording -  and her heart wasn't in it back then. Sitting in the pilot's seat again after a break only confirmed that the time still wasn't right. 

She snapped out of her reminiscing when an arm reached over her shoulder and tilted the yoke, straightening her path. "You're drifting," Siriks murmured.

"Sorry," she hadn't realized, adjusting herself. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she sighed. Siriks more than likely knew where her mind had wandered to. “It’s just strange. Distracting.”

"Was there somewhere specific you wanted to go?"

"Out," she turned her head downwards to the radar to check the positioning of the ships that had fallen into place around her. Figuring that the easiest way to remove herself was to fly beneath them, she said, "Let me try manual, away from here."

Turning off the autopilot, she turned the flight stick and let the ship peel out of the traffic to descend a few hundred feet. The Ilasan cruised across the walls dividing the central city from the outskirts. Dense rows of buildings turned to untamed wilderness, broken by smaller villages and market towns in the ruins of old human settlements. For the first time since stepping foot onboard, she let herself relax. Ships traveling around the outskirts and beyond were uncommon, and that night was no different. The skies ahead were clear and empty. 

Minutes passed in relative quiet, endless reclaimed nature passing beneath them. Pits and chasms, scars from the Collapse, cut through the land and distorted the otherwise flat terrain. Had they not been there, she imagined the environment in England would have been relatively pleasant. Good for racing Pikes across, better than the broken ring roads the walls were built along. Not that it was a pastime she partook in, but better roads would be appreciated by many and opened up options for new towns or cities to be formed.

Scanning the ground, the occasional flash of blue indicated a scout crew trawling across the land. Eramis wondered what they were searching for, or if it was a routine patrol. The House laid claim to most of the southern and eastern regions of the country, requiring constant monitoring to ensure nothing slipped into their territory. 

As she glanced back up to the sky to check her positioning, smoke pluming up from a patch of forest on the horizon caught her attention. She pushed the throttle along and closed the distance to it, the faint orange glow of a fire emerging beneath thick tree cover. The radar sat silent, scanning and finding nothing close by. She hummed, "That looks like something."

Siriks hauled himself over the top of the chair again, forcing her to slide down in it as he peered through the cockpit. "That'll be one of ours, one of the scouting parties."

"Why would they set a fire so early in the night?" Eramis prodded him and sat back up when he moved. She frowned, tapping at the console to scan across comms channels. "Listen," she said, tuning in to each frequency the ground crews used. Different pitches of static echoed from the small speakers in the cabin with each turn of the knob. "If that was a Devils crew, there would be a signal bouncing back from the Shanks."

"Kings?*

"We'd have been intercepted by now. Those are humans," she murmured. Setting her jaw, she turned the Ilasan to go back from where they came. "I'm not taking any chances."

Siriks braced himself at the sharp turn, all four arms finding purchase somewhere abruptly. "Seems awfully close for them to be setting up a camp? We’re what, fifteen miles out?" 

"Not for the ghouls. Wethraks kept saying his crews found them either hundreds of miles from here, or on our doorstep," Eramis shook her head, adjusting the controls to level out and begin the slow climb back to the city mandated altitude. "He sent out a notification warning us to keep vigilant for their presence. Send the coordinates to the Lair and let them deal with it. See if you can find the frequency for the scouting crew nearby, too.”

"You're not going to see who’s there?”

"With what army? What weapons?" she laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "I thought you said about taking things one stage at a time."

“It might be that one.”

“Then he’s brave, stupid, or both to stay in this area.” As tempting as it was to call some members of her own crew back to Heathrow and take her revenge, she knew better. Lightbearers had wiped out entire crews in seconds without firing a single shot. That said, when taken unaware it was trivial for an appropriately skilled crew to take one down and destroy its drone. Or even someone clever enough to stalk and shoot the drone down from afar. 

Siriks chuffed in agreement and took his leave, squeezing out of the cockpit. 

Eramis had to wonder about what he said. It would hurt a little for another crew to take her glory in potentially killing the Lightbearer. His suffering and eventual death felt too personal to hand over to a collection of strangers. Then again, if the scouts found it was him and didn't receive approval from the Lair to take their shots, the pleasure could still be hers. Ursaviks's seemingly innocent enquiry about the Lightbearer's description when she spoke with him suggested he knew what she wanted.

But even if he offered up a crew consisting of his personal guard to assist in any revenge, she wasn't sure she would accept it. The chance of someone else stealing what was hers away was very real, and easy to be brushed off as a stray bullet or 'saving her life'. Then the cycle would start over again, except with someone she was forbidden to assault in retaliation.

'There's no guarantee it's him. It's too unlikely,' she thought. Being realistic, it was either a different ghoul or a band of humans that had evaded detection in their vast territory. Humans avoided places and people they found trouble in. For the Lightbearer to stay so close to where his ship was almost captured would be an unlikely move.

The concepts kept turning over in her head as she flew home. On occasion, Siriks suggesting the first thing that came to his head was a problem. His tendency to say whatever came to mind, whether it was a useful or sensible contribution or not, gave her many an opportunity to distract herself, but also many opportunities to be bothered in case he was correct. 

Flashing beacons from the spaceport eventually came into view, and she adjusted course slightly. 'I'll humour them and fall into formation. It can't be that difficult to land now that I know I can do everything else.' Entering into a wide circle, she lined the ship up towards the yard. It would be a slightly longer route to return to the Ketch, but less of a chance of misjudging the distance and crashing into the port's buildings. 

"Are you running autopilot?" Siriks called from the rear of the ship.

"No, why?"

"You're really going to try landing this manually?"

"Like it's a challenge? Ilasan doesn't have wheels, Siriks."

He came back up to her side. "I feel more comfortable here."

She clicked her mandibles at him, focusing back on the 'runway' between the docked Ketches. 'Pick a direction and stick with it, and everything will be fine.'  Pointing the ship downwards, she began the descent into the yard, with the gentlest adjustments to the Ilasan's movements as the ground approached. 

"Eramis? This is fast," Siriks said, his tone somewhat fearful.

“No, it isn’t,” she replied, turning her head to the altimeter. Her heart jumped into her throat to see the numbers rapidly descending, far quicker than it appeared against the relatively unchanged environment outside. She spat a curse at her own ignorance, jerking the yoke sharply back in a desperate attempt to abort the landing. 

The ship's nose went upwards, but didn't stop it dropping further and skimming across the fence enclosing port. 'Come on, if I can get the lift I can get out again! ' Please don't make it a crash landing, don't do this to me now!' she begged, gritting her teeth and adjusting every part of the ship she could think of to drop its speed. 

Dregs and Vandals on the ground dropped everything and sprinted away into cover to see her coming, narrowly missing a row of Pikes as the ship skidded overhead. Unable to tell the distance from the ground and with seconds before the jumpship went careering past her Ketch and towards the port itself, she made a split second decision.

She turned the ship hard to one side and hit the emergency brakes, disengaging the throttle and jamming a lower thumb into a button on her key. The Ilasan lurched and came to a sharp halt, throwing her sideways with the lost momentum of the primary engines shutting off instantly.

Another heavier set of crashes sounded behind her. Presumably Siriks and anything else left unsecured falling into the opposite corner. 

Panting, she pushed herself back upright and rested her head in her upper hands, unable to do anything but watch in despair as the ship corrected itself and began a slow crawl to safety in the hangar. Never had she been so glad to build an emergency stop button into the ship's remote commands. 'We made it. We're alive.'

Despite her relief, she couldn't hold back a growl of embarrassment in her throat. "This is ridiculous," she whispered. 

Siriks clawed his way up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay-"

"It's not okay! How many years have I spent piloting and navigating ships? This is all I know!" she burst out, gesturing sharply to the instruments. "I don't see how it's possible. There has to be a way I can do this, but I don't see it! If it weren't for that failsafe, we would've been killed!"

"You did well until then! It's not all completely lost! We got there and back in one piece, it doesn't matter how we did it."

"And almost took out most of the ground crews!" She didn't want to imagine how many Captains would be standing on deck demanding she explain herself in the next hours, dread filling her stomach. "There has to be something I can do. I can't continue like this." 

"Okay, look. Why don't you set the Dregs on rebuilding the console so it's all on your left side, so you can see everything?" He suggested.

"We'd have to gut the ship. Every ship I fly." Glancing out across the hangar, it sunk in the level of work and resources such an effort would take. "It'd be more trouble than this is worth."

"A Pilot Servitor in all ships?"

"You know what I've said about our reliance on machines," Eramis grumbled. Their absence in human made spacecraft was a major advantage. Too many times before had she bore witness to Pilot Servitors malfunctioning or deciding they knew best, making grave miscalculations at the cost of entire crews. For beings meant to be worshipped and revered, they had yet to give her a reason for doing so beyond lip service. "I don't want to become complacent."

"It's not complacency, it would help you. All you'd have to do is make a copy of its most basic functions and install it somewhere close by."

"No. Not in here."

Siriks hummed, examining the ship's interior. "I know. Make all of the fleet combat capable with proximity sensors and targeting system. If we can adapt the targeting to lock on to anything you choose, you can measure a distance without having to judge it."

Eramis shifted in her seat and looked up at the larger Eliksni, confused as to how he could think of such an obvious miracle cure. 'Why did I not think of that?'

"We could probably link it to the comms in your helmet. You'd be the only one to know about most of the adjustments I can think of," he kept talking. "And everyone benefits in the times we have to fight."

"Sometimes I wonder if you should be the Baron," she chuckled bitterly, almost disappointed that the answer was so obvious and she was literally too blind to see it.

"Don't be silly, if I were you I would've given up weeks ago," Siriks purred. "We can fix this. If not you personally, we'll all work together on it. You didn't let your disorder stop you, so why this?"

Eramis started up a purr in return, more to soothe herself than agree with him. Her size was a non-issue in the grander scheme of things, a benefit even in her younger years as a mechanic. Losing her vision felt like fighting to climb an insurmountable mountain, by comparison. 

"We'll make it so you can kill that ghoul. He's sitting out there thinking he's done his job and defeated you, and I know you can prove him wrong. You'll strike him out of the sky, and if you can't, then I'll fly to wherever he's hiding and let you take the shot."

Eramis smiled slyly at him. "You're reading my mind again."

"If I couldn't do that after spending years cooped up on a Ketch with you, then I would wonder what I've been doing all this time," he offered a hand to help her out of the seat.

Taking it gratefully, she hopped out and looked out over the hangar. "Let's get to work."

Chapter Text

Eramis stood on the raised platform of her quarterdeck, leaning against the railings overseeing the navigators. Despite it being nine weeks prior that she had last stood there and watched over her crew, it felt like an eternity. 

Suspicions about Increased human activity had been proven correct. For a heavily fortified city of twelve million residents and counting, more than two thirds of which were militarized, it was hardly a major concern, but still one worth monitoring. Unless humanity discovered the means to use their lost machines and outsmart Devil ingenuity, they were akin to flies buzzing into windows. Harmless, yet exasperating to watch and deal with.

Warlords and Lightbearers, however, were major problems. More had been brought into existence by the Great Machine, much to the collective disdain of the House. Killing them was difficult. Unlike the average human, they seemed impervious to the harsh winters of London settling in for the season. And ultimately, they were beings of near equal intelligence to Eliksni. They learned, and traveled in groups after the loners were picked off. They bought weapon parts from unsuspecting traders in the city outskirts, assembled their own guns with whatever they could collect by the end of the day. Their proficiency and natural ability to create weaponry was alarming at best.

As concerning as the recent developments were, there was an unspoken agreement  held throughout the city that there was a lot to be learned from humans. London wouldn't exist without their assistance, and Earth was their home planet. Wethraks and his friends had the right ideas in choosing to monitor over actively engaging with them, but the problem couldn't be ignored any longer. Lightbearers needed eliminating. 

Ursaviks, for a reason she hadn't attempted to understand, put her in charge of locating any newcomers. She accepted the assignment with grace at the time, pleased to be able to bypass Rhensik's restrictions and return to piloting the Devilship . Privately, however, Siriks pointed out it may have been intended as a means of putting her back on track. She wasn't inclined to disagree..

Assisting the mechanics in her crew with fitting new targeting systems into every ship in her fleet kept her occupied, alongside duels and training to hone her skills. She was starting to feel like herself again, down to capturing and toying with lone humans like a cat with a mouse, much to the crew’s amusement. 

Locating and attacking human ships was trivial, a game for pups compared to infiltrating other Ketches or Skiffs. Humanity had neither the skill nor the understanding of their own lost technology to defend themselves appropriately. Oftentimes it was as simple as tricking them with one of their own ships. Sending out distress signals usually made humans waver, fewer still ever checking the legitimacy of the calls. Once they realized they were surrounded by Skiffs and all wasn't it what it seemed, they would give up quickly. 

Some would fight. The tension and betting about what their choice would be was what kept her engaged, on top of the opportunity to add a new ship to her fleet. The concept of facing a Lightbearer again gave her pause, though. Waking up knowing that she could return to work was enough to put a spring in her step, but it did nothing for the nagging worry that she was risking losing more than her last two eyes in accepting the assignment. 

In the face of that knowledge, there were only two solutions - hide like a cowardly Dreg in the depths of the Ketch, or face the ghouls head on and give them no chance to retaliate. She preferred the latter.

She was pleased with her own progress to reach that point. Defeating Siriks during their training sessions had become a regular occurrence, and she had ventured into orbit with him at her side. Rumours spread quickly amongst the House, in spite of its massive population, and she was certain that word of her accomplishments had filtered back to the Lair. Other Eliksni had inquired as to her methods, but their requests had gone ignored. Most were long retired veterans, but Eliksni talked, and in a twisted way she enjoyed being the sole member of the House in her position. Her only competition was herself.

The only one ahead of her was the Lightbearer. He appeared to have grown wise to the crews sent out to track him down. Every lead or supposed sighting led to nothing, or uncovering a previously unknown individual. Suspicions began to circulate that he was at the head of the organised human efforts to 'fight back' and attempt to claim some land for themselves, but finding someone who could gain enough intelligence to confirm it proved challenging. 

Nobody was willing to entertain Wethraks's ideas of trying to recruit another human into their fold to get the information, either. Although he was undeniably successful with his first charge, nearly 30 years prior, the climate was different. Allowing a human into the inner workings of the Devils while trouble was brewing sounded like an overwhelming recipe for disaster.

A voice piped up from the deck and brought her out of her thoughts. "Baroness! Could you come and look at this?" 

Eramis perked up, glancing across the room to the Dreg that called for her attention. 'What have they found? A settlement? Another ship gone too far?' she wondered, pushing back from the railing to walk to his workstation. 'Imagine if it was him.' 

As she came up behind, the Dreg pointed to the display. Her stomach dropped, and she let out a choked sound of disbelief. A Kestrel Class ship drifted on screen, traveling in a slow arc a mile from the city walls. Nudging him aside to take the control pad, she zoomed in on the ship and squinted at the feed. Through the blurred, yellow tinted image, she picked out the scorch marks scarring its hull, distinctive as the day she first spotted it.

"The Lightbearer," she snarled. 

"How should we proceed?"

Growling in her chest, she swiped across the screen and brought up the tracking information. The Kestrel and its sole pilot had been scouting the area for a half hour, likely searching for a landing point to infiltrate from. "Stand by. He's mine."

She took off in a sprint from the quarterdeck, running through the winding corridors and down into the belly of the Ketch. 

Pushing past a gaggle of Dregs hauling cargo, she entered the hangar and locked on to her choice. 'Nequin', a swift Echo class race-ship. Sprinting over to it, it disengaged from its position on the wall at the click of a button, scattering the crew beneath it  Eramis dragged a ladder across in the same movement, throwing it against the wing the moment the ship came close and scrambling up it.

A hand grabbed around her ankle. "Where are you going?" Siriks's voice came from below, bewildered.

"We found the ghoul! The one who blinded me!" 

"I'll gather the fleet-"

"No!" Shaking him off to crouch on the wing, she chattered down at him. "He's my prey. You come if I call, and not before then. Clear the hangar and disengage the forcefield." 

He met her eyes, expression twisted. Although hidden by his helmet, she could see him grappling with the idea of chasing the Lightbearer alone. She willed him not to press further, her whole body itching with anticipation.

Backing away, he nodded firmly. "Then make sure you come back alive." 

She nodded back to him and leapt across the wing into the pilot's seat, unbuckling her shock blade from her side and throwing it into the back. Performing the pre-flight checks as fast as she could while commands were barked and those gathered in the hangar dispersed to their posts, her heart raced as the purple-ish rippling at the hangar doors dissipated.

Pulling the canopy down and locking it as the engines whirred to life, she ducked  her head to one side to watch the Dreg at the far end of the hangar, waiting for his signal. At the wave of his hand she sped away from the Ketch, the force of the acceleration pushing her back in the seat. It sent a thrill into her veins that she had almost forgotten, darting through the clouds like a bullet. 

On the far horizon, the Kestrel popped into view, just a dot in the distance. She flicked the stealth drive on and pitched sharply upwards, gaining height to tail it from above. Cloaking drives evaded unmodified jumpship radars entirely, and the Lightbearer's ship appeared to be no exception. If he was aware of her closing in, he showed no inclination to respond.

She slowed when the defined shape of the ship appeared, keeping her prey to her left side. Her lower hand reached out and adjusted the reticle of the targeting system until it hovered over the ship's form. A tinny, robotic voice sounded in her ear, '700ft vertical to target. Altitude 6000ft, steady.'  

Her stomach churned as she readied the weapons, confirming and locking in to the Lightbearer. If she was spotted, one evading barrel roll would turn the Kestrel out of her sight. She'd never see any retaliation coming, and dogfights were never her strength even when she possessed all four eyes. The thought of relying solely on what machines and sensors said made her hesitate. 

Her crew had taken great delight in firing blanks at one another to test the system extensively in weeks prior on every single ship. Every fault had been corrected, every bug eased out. Failure rates were as close to zero as they could be, and Nequin was the most reliable of them all throughout.

"You wouldn't be here without them. Trust the sensors, trust the measurements," she murmured to herself. Yet staring down at the Lightbearer's craft and following its path, she hadn't felt so uncomfortable since her very first flight lessons. 

Eramis wracked her brain for the safest means to attack. 'I have one chance. I'll have to use a gap in his shielding. '  Kestrels were given their name for a reason, they were quick and hard hitting in combat, but fragile and seldom had functional shielding drives. Close to every one she had repaired had glaring gaps in the shields towards the engine intake. A single well timed shot would blow up the ship from the inside. How humans traveled to other planets with such a critical fault in their engineering was lost on her.  

Nequin's weaponry was pin accurate, to a point. Unlike the devastating power of a Skiff's long range energy cannons, the race-ship was best suited to drive-by style attacks, like a Pike. Getting close to a target and unleashing a volley of energy in multiple passes could do plenty of damage in the right hands. The difficulty lie in distributing the energy equally across the ship, which meant disabling the cloaking. Evading the Kestrel enough times to succeed in downing it if she missed the engines, all while visible to a fully sighted Lightbearer, was where her thoughts stuck.

Turning her head, she squinted into the bright morning sun and the solution dawned on her. 'An ambush. Like he did to me.'

Not giving herself time to overthink, she braced herself and pushed the yoke downwards, hurtling out from the sunlight towards the ship. Screaming closer to the Kestrel until a split second from passing it, she disabled the cloaking drive and skimmed over its hull, pulling the trigger.  

Arc energy coursing through the guns thrummed through the floor, unleashing a rain of bullets into the Kestrel's engines. A deafening bang cut through the air, pushing her ship forwards with the sudden turbulence.

'Which of us was that?!' She yanked the flight stick back and to one side, turning the ship sideways and into a wide U-turn. Alarms blared, warnings flagging up on the holo screen about her speed and angle. She felt the wings flex, creaking in complaint at the force of the maneuver. ' Don't even think about stalling! Not now !' 

Eyes wide, she looked up through the canopy and saw nothing, the sky darkened with thick smoke. Twisting to check over her back, her lower hand instinctively hovered over the throttle. Her mind raced, 'How did he see me? Why did I think that was safe?' Echo classes were not built for surviving crash landings, and miles of thick forest and half demolished buildings were terrible for gliding to safety.

Flicking her primary eye back to the front of the screen while her right hand dropped to contact the Ketch, she froze at the words on screen.

'All systems operational.' 

Noise of a failing engine filtered through the glass of the canopy, stuttering and rattling itself apart. Tilting her head back to where the Kestrel was, she found the smoke took its place. A ball of fire plummeted past her to the ground like a stone, breaking up into pieces in the fall.

"Yes!" She couldn't hold back a roar of triumph, her hearts soaring as she levelled out and slowed down to begin her descent in a wide spiral. Her crew would be celebrating as soon as she returned, the urge to collect every Dreg on the ship up, squeeze them tight and let the Ether rations flow free almost unbearable. 

'You're all mine to hunt now,' she thought, adrenaline burning through her chest. Barely able to keep her hands steady, she eased the race-ship over to circle above the snow covered trees, calculating the ghoul's potential escape routes from above. An industrial settlement nearby flagged in her mind. Plenty of places to hide, potentially holding more humans to come to his aid.

Not that they would be capable of much, given how piteously easy it would be to call.for backup and raze it to the ground before they knew what was happening. 

An explosion erupted from trees below,  flames shooting higher into the air. She snorted to think of how spectacular his death was. 'Undeserved for scum like him.'

Spotting a small clearing close to the crash site, she directed the ship into it and lowered it down in place until it hovered off the ground. Autopilot would allow it to land safely nearby and send out a beacon for a Skiff to join her. Salvage was salvage, and even sweeter when it came from the ship she was blinded on.

She pushed open the canopy and disengaged from the controls, reaching behind the seat to grab her sword. With a quick scan of the immediate area, she hopped down to the ground. Although the wreckage was a half mile away, Lightbearers moved quickly upon resurrection. He could be watching her, but she didn't care. What weapons humans had were no use against her armor, tried and tested. She couldn't picture a bigger waste of life than allowing herself to be shot dead. 

Loosening the lower half of her helmet, Eramis scented the air. Jet fuel filled her nose, mixed with burning hot metal carried by a fresh breeze. Beneath it came the distantly familiar smell of a charred human. Scoffing at it, she clipped her helmet back together and set off, sword drawn. 

A classic stalk through the old growth forests never went amiss. She shivered as she entered the dense cover, unsure and unbothered whether it was from the anticipation of the chase or the bitter cold. England's woods were nothing compared to the lush jungles of Riis, but they scratched the itch she held to hunt and run free. Eliksni were made to race through trees and undergrowth and catch prey, or they wouldn't have been bestowed fangs, claws and six limbs. 

Smouldering branches dropped ash on to snow the closer she got to the ship, turning the ground into a greyish slush. The burning Kestrel came into view through the trees, fires that would have set bark alight snuffed by fallen snow. Dropping down on all six, she scuttled closer to the edge of the crash site, circling around it. The Lightbearer could try to spot her if he had stayed, but humans were terrible at picking out strange shapes in unfamiliar territory. Or at least, they were until it was too late for them.

Closing in on the cockpit, she investigated the scene of the Lightbearer's struggle.  Snow scuffed into a mound, disrupted by handprints and churned mud leading off into the treeline that showed his desperate attempts to flee upon resurrection. Blood trailed along his escape route, only turning to footprints at the first sturdy trunk. 'His drone didn't heal him. He won't have gotten far.'

Standing back up and walking at a brisk pace, she followed the footprints in parallel. The tracks were clumsy, staggering, veering back and forth along their chosen path and towards the abandoned settlement.

A high fence loomed ahead, covered in tangled barbed wire. The Lightbearer had dithered, red tinging his footprints in the time it took to decide how to approach it. They led towards a small hole in the chainlink, shreds of cloth caught on the cut wires. Eramis bent down and crawled through, sidling up the alley opposite.

Tall, flat roofed office blocks with broken exterior panels and bullet holes through the walls lined a paved cul-de-sac at the end of it, holo-signange of human corporations flickering on most. Painted red and black symbols near each doorway showed a raiding party had travelled through the area and picked off any humans taking refuge there, and recently. ' Excellent, nobody can come to his aid. ' 

Confident, she emerged from the alleyway and into the road. Frozen mush where the crew had searched the area obscured any new footprints, but the fresh blood remained on top. Pacing beside it, the distance the Lightbearer made it before disappearing into a building surprised her. The trail led to a brick building, to a door wrenched open against its hinges. 

Before she could approach, a bullet whizzed past the top of her helmet, impacting into the snow. She ducked down, spinning around and scanning the windows. A flash of movement caught her attention from the second floor of the building, and she ran up to it.

A shadow passed overhead. The Lightbearer hurled himself from the window, firing at her as he fell and landing hard.

Eramis dove out of the way, digging her claws into the ice for traction and launching herself at the Lightbearer as soon as he landed. She wrestled him down to the ground, upper hand fighting for the gun while her lower arms pinned him down. He gripped tight to the rifle, firing a bullet into the air before she wrenched it free and threw it clear to the other side of the street.

A boot smacked into her stomach, winding her. Gasping, she collapsed down on top of him. The Lightbearer scrambled out from beneath her, sliding on the slick ice as he stumbled.

Although dazed, she shoved her arm forward and held tight to his leg, unsheathing her shock dagger and using him as an anchor to drive it into the back of his shin where cloth met leather. He cried out and kicked back, bucking her off.

Breathing hard, Eramis surged upwards and swiped at him with her sword, switching the arc energy on and reveling in the crackling electricity sparking through the air. He flinched away, a split second too late as she pushed forward. Shifting her grip on the hilt, she stabbed the blade through his stomach.  

The human howled in pain, and she laughed triumphantly, driving it deeper as it met resistance. "Now you know how it feels!"

Burning heat suddenly shot up her sword. Letting go of it with a hiss, she lashed out with her other hand at him, registering the fire engulfing the arm that blocked her far too late. Solar energy leapt up from the human's hand, grabbing on to her face.

Eramis screamed, tearing away from the Lightbearer as the metal of her helmet turned searing hot. She heard the dull thud of her sword falling to the ground as she skittered backwards, then footsteps running away.

Blinded by the intense heat and brightness from the flame, she retreated back in the direction of the alleyway. Throwing herself and her helmet down into the ice to soothe the burning sensation, she felt around her face in a panic as her vision returned. 'No burns! I'm safe, he didn't get me again,' she sagged with relief, picking herself up from the floor.

As she regained her bearings, Eramis pressed herself against the wall and peered around the corner into the road, In their mutual panic, both the sword and rifle had been left on the ground. There was no sign of the Lightbearer, save for the bright red line of blood leading into the closer building. 'Easy pickings. So long as his drone is out of action.'

Glancing down to her helmet, she winced. Previously white metal was scorched black, melted and thinned in the centre but otherwise intact. The lens on the left side, however, was unblemished. She reminded herself to thank Rhensik when she returned for his foresight, followed by an apology for the need to refit it into a new helmet. 

Wiping the condensation off the inside of it and slipping her helmet back on, she knew not to wait and give the Lightbearer more time. She moved towards the propped open doorway of the building he took refuge in, retrieving her sword and switching off its energy on the way. 

Squeezing through the entryway and over the puddle of blood, she looked over the dark interior in case the ghoul was waiting. The atrium was deserted, scalped clean by Eliksni for wiring and any other human tech. Some of the larger instalments were marked for dissection, including the metallic staircase against the wall. Blood covered the tape lines up it, dripping off the individual steps. 

'I've got you now.' she thought, lowering herself to slink up it as quietly as possible. The trail led two floors up to a long hallway, abruptly turning to slight spots lining a wide corridor.

The Lightbearer had all but disappeared, and as she shut the valve of her Ether tank to quiet the imperceivable hiss bouncing off the walls, she listened close. She could only guess at how clever he thought he was. Humans thought they were king in a world where they were once the apex predators, but her hearing was sharper, her vision stronger. Nobody had escaped hiding from her yet, and the ghoul wouldn't be the first.

Straining into the silence, she twitched at the sound of shifting leather. The noise of a drone revealing itself followed, coming from halfway down the hall.

Eramis crept forward, trembling. Stopping at the doorway, she held her breath when the movement came again. It sounded further away, at the back wall. Laboured breathing and the urgent, incomprehensible whispers between ghoul and drone echoed in the stripped office spaces. The human seemed to be urging the drone to do something, a heated debate between the two.

'He's hurt,' The longer she listened, the weaker the human sounded. Sensing that the game was over, she stood back up straight, seeing no need to continue a stealthy approach. 'There's nothing he can do now.'

Eramis stepped forward and stood in the doorway, brandishing her sword. The Lightbearer and his ghoul locked eyes with her, and the air grew tense. She didn't say a word, comfortable that the intimidation brought on by silence was more than enough to suffice. 

Slowly, the drone rose up from the floor where its charge was. It spun the back half of its shell and narrowed its optic, almost inviting a challenge. 

She sighed, clicking her mandibles in irritation. For such a little machine, it held the bravery of a Kell. Taking a step forwards into the room, she flinched as the drone burst into action, speeding towards her at head height. 

Eramis threw an arm up across her face, shutting her eyes seconds before impact. Hard metal crashed into her hand, cutting into her palm, and on instinct she latched down on it. The drone locked in her claws, and as she blinked her eyes open she shared a look of panic and disbelief with it. 

Without thinking, she slammed the drone against the concrete wall with all her might. Its shell buckled and snapped, releasing from it a blinding stream of energy in a bright blue light. She dropped it and flung herself back through the doorway, curling into a ball and covering her eyes with both right arms.

The Light burst forth in a shockwave, pushing her across the ground with its force even from behind cover. A pins and needles sensation pierced through her limbs, intensifying to a brutal sting before it stopped, as soon as it started.

Ears ringing, she uncovered her face and realized she was still alive. New cracks split up in the walls and broken glass littered the floor. A massive hole where the doorway was gaped, the force of the explosion blasting down through the lower levels and clean into the atrium.

She sat up, checking over herself. 'Arms are still there. Everything's okay.' Her hand buzzed where she destroyed the little machine, flexing her claws to force feeling to return. 'Where did that ghoul go?'

Eramis got on all six, crawling to the chasm splitting the building and locking eyes with the once-Lightbearer. His face was gaunt, hair plastered to his head with sweat and blood seeping through his leather armor. He tried and failed to get to his hands and knees, coughing so that his whole body was wracked by it. Yet still he kept fighting, and she growled at him with a strength she didn't know she possessed in a warning to stay down.

Propping herself up to stand, her first step was unsteady, shaking, but stronger than any of his movements. Jumping across the crater, she sauntered over to the human and pointed the tip of her sword down at him. "Remember me?" she hissed in English.

"Fuck you," he wheezed, lifting his head to glare at her.

"You tried to take everything from me. Did you expect me to come back and humiliate you like this?" She jabbed the sword into his chest. 

"What do you want? A prisoner?" he snapped. "I'll never give in to you. You took my Light, but you won't take my life."

She guffawed at his empty words. The Captain-strength some humans showed in their final moments was always humorous, unaware of how weak their own flesh was. "I've dreamed of this since the wretched day I left the hospital. Ripping you apart and tearing your limbs off, posting you on a stake at our gates to wither away. I sleep well when I think of what I'd do to you."

Anger boiled inside of her, adrenaline rising in her chest. She paused, clenching three of her firsts to hold herself back from dropping the weapon and tearing into him there and then. Images of her dreams flashed through her mind in a bloody montage. All of them felt good, and so right in so many ways, but wrong for the task at hand.

Crouching down, she hissed, "You stole the Great Machine from us, and you waste its gifts on violence. You thought you had seen the last of me, and thought that you'd do the same to my brothers and sisters unchallenged. Yet here I am. A two eyed Eliksni who taught herself to fly again, and who killed your drone."

The Lightbearer remained defiant, betrayed by a twinkle in his eyes. Fear. A gaze she'd seen a thousand times before. All humans were cowards, deep down.

Eramis chuckled, raising her sword and leveling the edge of her blade at his cheek. 

Arc electricity coursed along its length at the touch of a button, the blue light shining off his skin.

The Lightbearer swallowed hard, facing her in silence.  

"You lost."

She plunged the blade into his face.

Sitting in the dim hallways of the hospital, Eramis fidgeted with the dead drone. Each rotation of its silvery faces gave a graunching sound, and broken glass from the optic collected in her hand. Given the bare minimum of cosmetic repairs,. It would make a fine centrepiece on the bridge. Not that many would ever see it. It was her personal prize. Much like the rifle and what remained of the Lightbearer's armor. 

Her whole body still buzzed with a feeling like static, and she thought the least she could do was to pay Rhensik a visit before retiring for the day. The Light worked in mysterious ways, none of which she wanted to be a part of any longer. Whatever powers it held, it destroyed her armor over the course of the walk back to the Kestrel's wreckage. She didn't want to consider what it had done to her insides until it was confirmed by a doctor. 

A Dreg carrying a data pad wandered out from the office, swiping through a list of appointments. "Eramis?" he looked up, glancing down the row of chairs until he met her gaze with a smile. "Rhensik will see you now." 

Rumbling a thanks, she rose from her seat and walked off through the corridors, shrugging her cloak forwards to wipe the fingerprints off the drone's shell. Coming to Rhensik's door, she knocked and let herself in before he could respond.

"Who is it- Eramis? What brings you in today?"

Without a word, she went to his desk and took the drone out from behind her back, placing it down in front of him.

Rhensik's mouth fell open, blinking his frontmost eyes and then secondary set in disbelief. Picking it up between his claws, he tilted the drone in the light. "Is this…?"

"It is."

"Why have you brought it to me?"

"I'd like to discuss my flight clearance."