'Hello old friend, 
      in the absence of your company
         my shell has hardened
           to protect what gentleness 
                you had bestowed upon me.'
                       
                  - Private letter penned by Sir Petrolius 
                              on the front lines of the war of Phobos Deimos 



As someone who's had quite a bit of experience waking up to the blackout haze of bad decisions, none had ever 
surmounted quite into something that looked like this. 
"Pipsqueak's awake." Grumbled a guy too big for his own good, meeting Harper's gaze with vague interest.
"Hey, that's..." He tried to speak, dry mouth threatening to make him heave. The air was thick with a layer of
humidity, congealing it into this warm mass. It was enough to sober him up and knock him out at the same time.
Like he'd had been hit by a truck but then the driver saw he was still breathing and backed up over him 
a few times for good measure. Honestly, if that was the case, he'd say they did a pretty good job of it.  

Looking over the vividly broad collection of unappealing faces he was now stuck staring at, Harper counted
up three ugly mugs staring back down at him. One human, big guy, probably a Heavy Gravity Worlder, emphasis on the
heavy. One Titusian, also big(as all Titusians were), this one towering maybe a good eight feet from Harper's eyeline.
One Nietzschean. Ad Nauseam. "Okay, which one of you guys stole my wallet?" Something told him that this wasn't the 
right time to bring this up but, it was the principle of the matter! Besides, he needed that wallet. It was his 
magnum opus of stolen identities and fake personas all rolled up into one nice piece of Venusian leather. "I'm not
gonna ask again." He halfway joked as if he had a leg to stand on. Which, by the looks of it, he wouldn't for much longer. 
You see, being the little guy in these situations, while it had it's ups and downs, always came with the caveat of getting
manhandled by overcompensating guys with inferiority complexes. Much to Harper's luck, he was born right about
the time that those started to become popular again. Getting fished out of a swamp by a Titusian to be examined like
a dying eel wasn't really that far off from what he was already used to. "You don't steal from a-" The guy paused,
looked Harper up and then down, curiously, as he dangled just above the ground. 
"What are you supposed to be?" 
Sarcastically, Harper signed the world's laziest salute with his free hand, "A man, sir!" Something told Harper 
he didn't seem all too convinced. Nonetheless, he continued. 
"You don't steal from a man you're chained to." 
That you don't. 

Dropping him to his feet, Harper could feel himself gaining his sea legs despite the weight around his ankle. 
"Okay, so, first things first." He started up again, much to the annoyance of those around him, "Where are we?"
"No idea." The Nietzschean started, positing himself as far away from their little chain gang as possible, "But I can't
help but to feel as if we've been set up here." 
"What? Like for entertainment?" The human asked with enough paranoia that even Harper thought the guy was overdoing
it. "'Cuz I'm not gonna be in anybody's snuff film, alright?" Jumpy. Maybe on the brink of boiling over jumpy.   
"Well I'm not just gonna wait around and see what happens." The Titusian stiffened, suddenly pulling them all in tow 
with him like a freight train headed nowhere. 
Just his luck.
See, Harper didn't exactly like swamps. They were creepy and crawly and this one in particular was
doing both to his skin. Great, just what he needed. Another infection. Like the last one didn't
make him feel like a dog with mange. Reaching up to scratch at his dataport, he felt his fingers
loop around something firmly placed around his neck. "Uh, guys?" His heart jumped into his
throat in a panic as he turned just in time to watch an eight foot mass of solid muscle suddenly
drop to seven, a head popping off a pair of shoulders like the hamster that took a little too much
interest in the intrinsic wiring of a wall socket. 

Explosive collars. Well, that's certainly a new one. 










Clasping the clamshell screen of a small monitor, Rommie gave it just enough push to 'accidentally' 
clamp it shut. "Have you noticed anything strange lately?" 
"Not particularly." Dylan shrugged. Now that he was no longer facing a wall of message relays, he began 
to recline in his chair, hands folded over his lap, neatly, and without care.  
"So you haven't noticed someone missing?" She urged him, "Particularly in engineering?"
A soft laugh seemed to cover up another emotion that he left just out of reach, "You know, I have noticed 
it's been pretty quiet out on deck recently..."
"This isn't funny." She snapped, her tone clipped. "He's been missing from my scanners since last night." 
"So he didn't return from our little stop at Vestibule Seven." He reasoned, "Don't worry, he probably
just overslept. We'll make a roundtrip back and pick him up from there." 
"That's the thing." 
The wrinkles at the edges of Dylan's eyes crinkled, hardening his features as he began to understand. 
"You already made the call, didn't you?"
"Never even made it to his room."















Okay panic. Worst yet, group panic. But their little bought of mass hysteria didn't have enough 
mass to register as anything less than one giant human frozen in place. 
"What happened!? How the hell did he-"   
"Looks like whoever brought us here wants us to stay here." Yeah, you think? Not like they had
a choice now that their giant friend here had decided to upgrade to Class-A dead weight.
Pulling out a blaster, the Nietzschean on his right took aim, blasting through the chain holding their big
meaty anchor in place. The pulse, alone, bouncing off the chains sent a particular 'chewing on tinfoil'
sensation through Harper's teeth. He then took aim again, severing bone, instead.  
"Smart!" Exclaimed the human on his left with enough sarcasm to fuel an army of angsty teenagers. 
"We'll just signal our location to everything in, oh, a fifty foot radius!!" 
"At least I'm being proactive of our situation." He argued back.
As much as Harper did love the sight of watching two guys bicker endlessly, it was here
that his mind began to wonder over to what really mattered in life. Like friends and family and, nah, 
I'm just kidding. It was over the fact that his socks were really wet. He made a mental note to swipe 
a pair of work boots. After all, being ankle deep in-
"Hey, uh, guys?" Harper swallowed, trying to not let his voice shake as he slowly stepped out of the 
mess he found himself standing in. 
"Oh, what is that wretched-!?" The Nietzschean gagged, covering up his mouth and nose. The odor really 
did a number to the guy. The sight did even worse. Hell, it was enough to shut both of them right up. 
"What...is that?" The human asked, bending over to observe it only to get hit with the smell, nearly
doubling over from it's strength. 
"Really slaps you in the face, doesn't it?" Harper wasn't sure if he was talking about the smell or
the sight. Either way, it was good to know what'll happen if they died there. Very reassuring. In a
sort of morbidly curious and absolutely terrifying way.  

It was here that Captain Obvious decided to grace everybody with his powers of observation, once again, 
lamenting, "Something tells me these last guys weren't so lucky." 
"You think!?" The Nietzschean growled. 
It was about this time that Harper found himself missing old meathead, now old meaty, seeing as
he was now a bunch of chunky bits of fillet mignon for whatever kind of two-headed gator or 
lancilier to pick apart. Actually, now that he thought about it, for a swamp this place sure
was empty of the usual swamp fare. Like, sure there was the humidity and the bugs but, other 
than that? It was desolate.  
"Hey, you hear that?" Harper interrupted the absolutely delightful spit bath he was receiving 
from the barrage of insults spewing overhead. 
"I don't hear anything." The Nietzschean snorted.
"Exactly."
Lefty's forehead was currently building up enough wrinkles to fuel it's own brand of face cream.
"If I didn't have my head screwed on right I'd think..." He seemed to almost grasp where Harper
was going but then dismissed it with a laugh. "Nah, can't be..." 
"Is there something you'd like to contribute to the class?" Harper swung around, feeling the 
glow of 'The Little Lightbulb Who Couldn't' dimly try to find just one kernel of an idea. 
"I've heard stories of places like this. Bizarre swamp planets where they'd drop off guys like
you and me." He was addressing the Nietzschean, here, who, in noticing the obvious curiosity in
the statement, looked immediately at Harper. 
"And him?" 
"Hey, I've done nothing that can be proven in a court of law." He joked, trying desperately to 
remember when the leeway for 'building novabombs without a license' ran it's course. Probably 
in a month or two. Although, to be honest, nothing about this seemed right. None of this was 
anything even close to the work of a legal system. No judges, no wait time behind bars, no 
defense attorney. Sure, societies are different from place but place, but this didn't exactly 
look like anyone's textbook definition of 'justice'.  
"Let's think about it." His brain began overclocking, the details suddenly clicking into place.
"Why chain us together like this? Why drop us off near the edge of the swamp instead of the
middle? Hell, they didn't even give us a good ol' fashioned cavity search." He pointed down, 
"I still have my shoelaces!!" 
"I don't...really know what that has to do with any of this." Ol' Lefty pointed out.  
Closing an eye, Harper began scanning over their landscape for a sign or a glint or a...
Picking up a hefty rock, he held it firmly in his palm, remembering an old technique he
learned from his days back on Earth from a kid named Bobby Fishburn. Real trooper. Chatty guy.
Kept trying to teach him about some old game called Baseball that he had parsed from old recordings. 
You could've gotten him to do just about anything if you played your cards right. And by that, 
I mean, if you had managed to scrounge up enough cards of his favorite pitchers from the nearby
dump. 
Aiming with his thumb, Harper popped a shot into a nearby tree, cracking a perfect blow into
a cluster of birds, knocking one to the ground.
"Wh-what the hell was that for!?" The Nietzschean at his right barked directly into his ear
canal, as Harper raised a knowing finger up at the sight of the other birds still occupying 
the branch, their necks craning towards their little buddy and then back at him. 
"Yeah, I'm gonna make a quick guess right here that those aren't your average panicky, 
flighty, screaming-while-shedding-feathers-all-over-the-place brand of bird." 
Carefully, he led their little triage over to the crumpled body at the base of the tree, prodding
it with the toe of his shoe. "Yup." He bend over, picking it up by it's feet, watching the 
twinges of death sound out over the grind of mechanical gears. "Corvus Surveillis." 
"Who cares what breed it is!?" Barked the Nietzschean
"He's saying we're being monitored!!" Lamented the human, cradling the back of his head in disbelief.
"Right, which leads us to our next question; why would anyone want to monitor us without us knowing?"
It was the question on the forefront of his mind. After all, any idiot with an itchy hand and a bad 
case of kleptomania knew that if someone wanted to instill that good old-fashioned state of paranoia 
in you, they'd announce that you were on camera. 
"Entertainment?" 
"Nah, that doesn't sound right." Although somebody was probably getting their jollies off on all
this. "Maybe they're making sure we play by their rules."
A pause. 
"Who?"








 
"Really, I don't see how a missing member of your crew has anything to do with matters of 
our legal system." Responded one of many operators from the Vestibule. "Any expectant
persons are legally bound to give a notice of their comings and goings off the station. If they
break that contract, it's no longer in our hands." 
"Meaning that if someone goes missing..." Beka started to which Trance chimed in. 
"Or worse."
"...or worse, you have no responsibility over what's happened to them?" 
Pointing at one of about thirty other legalities taped to the side of her booth, the service 
operator smiled, "Yup." 
"You must really love your job." She threatened, readying her backswing just as Trance linked
their arms together and pulled her into a nearby crowd. 
"Thank you so much!" She smiled with everything but her eyes, "You've been a real help!" 
Walking arm in arm, Trance patted Beka's shoulder to get her to calm down. "Don't worry, it's
not like he got pushed out of an airlock." She managed to leave out the 'this time' although, 
she was pretty sure her tone indicated it.  
"Yeah, but, if we don't find him soon, what do we do? It's not like we have any leads." Beka
huffed, scanning the crowds for anything small, pale, and whiny.
"I swear, this happens every time! Remember back when we scored big at the old mining facility?
He went missing for twelve days! No contact and then, just as we're about to give up and leave,
bam! There he is, back on the Maru like he never left!"
"I remember you turning his mattress over with him on it." Trance recalled.
"The second I see his dirty little face again, I'm microchipping him!" Beka yelled over the crowd,
hands thrown up over her head in frustration before sliding down the sides of her face, drawing
downwards until a pair of prying eyes met hers and quickly looked away.

Peeling away from Trance and the crowd, Beka began weaving her way through the crowd, planting her feet
at the side of a patron who looked like he had a laundry list of things to hide. She just hoped 
it included one pint-sized Engineer. "Hey there." She smiled, shoulders swinging comfortably in
vague suggestion. The Not-Quite-Mating-Dance of scoundrels on mutual territory. Sliding her elbows down
across the top of the table, Beka bent and stretched out in front of his prying gaze until she 
bowed a hand up under her chin, hips swaying gently with the tide of the crowd around them. 
"See anything you like?" 

"I see a lot of things I like." The man laughed to himself, sliding a hand over her lower back.
"Beka." She introduced herself, feeling his hand wander. "You seemed interested in my little
conversation over there." 
"Well, let's just say you're hard to ignore." She wasn't sure if she had just been called hot
or loud, but, given the fact that he was practically grasping onto her ass for dear life, she
was sure it was the former. 
"I'm looking for someone. Little guy. Big mouth. Can't talk his way out of a paper bag." Lowering
her head, she then gave him a good flash of her teeth, "Or, say, a kidnapping?" Suddenly, there was 
a glint in this guy's eyes that told her she got her man.
Snatching his hand from her ass, she smashed it down on the table, grinding it's knuckles against it's
hard surface. 
"Hey! Hey! Wait!" 
His pleading was then cut off by the feel of a blaster held firmly to his side. She slid in, her words 
firmly grazing against the skin of his neck. "Do you know how long it takes people in places like this to 
tell a dead guy from a drunk?" She asked in a heady whisper. 
"N-no!?" 
"Neither do I!" She cheerfully called out to avert any unwanted attention, using her best dumb blonde
impression she could come up with, "Wanna find out?"
He began to sweat like a horse, beady little eyes flicking from her face to his hand as she strained it
further until something popped. "Tell me everything you know or so help me, they'll be throwing you
away with last night's plastic bedsheets."
"It was just a job!" Another pop. "He's fine!" He begged. "Well, he was fine last time I saw 'im!" 
"Meaning?" 
"I was contracted to find my target and drop him off at a 'specific locale' which is weird. I've disappeared
a lotta guys in my life but not to a prison before." 
"Prison?"
"Yeah, I led him over and we spent the whole evening playing Jakda, he took to it pretty easily and we got
off on a pretty nice foot. Kinda started to make me feel guilty at first." 
She let off on the guy but kept her weapon firmly trained to his gut. "So, what, you convinced him to go to
prison?"
"Nah, three games in I realized he was cheating me so I dumped a pretty nice supply of the good stuff into 
his drink and, bam, he was out like a light. I then snatched his wallet, which, by the way is useless." 
She watched as he tossed what was left of Harper's life out onto the table. "All that's in there's fake." 
He grumbled, "Even the money. Good thing he was contracted to be brought in alive or I'd have drowned him 
like a rat in the latrine out back."
"You wanna give me the name of this contractor?"
"What're you kidding? You know I can't."
Having been in his shoes, before, Beka couldn't help but to empathize with the guy. After all, a contract was
a contract, even years after it had stopped being a contract. "What about the prison?" 
He gave it some consideration, a look of satisfaction rested on his jaw that served to unnerve more than anything.
"Yeah, okay, sure. I can do that."










Turns out claustrophobia wasn't so much a mindset as it was a location. The directions? Between two giant idiots 
who can't pull their heads out of their asses long enough to stop endangering everybody between them.
"Hey!" Harper shouted over the sound of their bickering, pulling out his wild card. 
Raising the explosive collar over his head, he waved it until they both got the hint. 
"You-you've been carrying that this whole time!?"
"Of course!" Harper reasoned, "After all, how else would I be able to do this?" He held it out
only a few feet to the left as it heated up in his hand, the lights starting to hum to life until
he pulled it back away, causing them to dim once again. "Question: what do you do when you first
crack open a jigsaw puzzle?" 
"A what?" 
Yeah, there was no way he was going to let that ruin his really good line here.
"You start with the edges." 
Lefty and Righty traded glances before giving Harper a look that told him this was 
his official job title now. This, by the way, was totally unfair on their part seeing as they didn't 
even glance at his resume before giving him the option. If they did, they'd realize he was way
overqualified for the position of canary in the first place. 









Sending a hail offered nothing.
"It seems as if there's a satellite array that immediately captures and reroutes any incoming 
signal to a relay in the outer quadrant of the Coctyus System." Andromeda explained as a diagram
of the trajectory their message took mapped out on her screen.  
"Meaning?" 
"As far as the planet's concerned, nothing comes in, nothing goes out." 
Not exactly the news Dylan wanted to hear, but, a lead was a lead. "So this is a planet being 
controlled by a third party operator that isn't even inside this system?"
"Controlled, monitored, regulated, everything you can think of." She pulled out her star map,
following the route to it's exact location. "Despite the distance, the signal is surprisingly 
strong. You can probably set up a dialogue from our current location." 

"Wait," Beka pressed her hands firmly against her console, "You said the Coctyus System?" 
"Yes, is that an issue?"  
"It was for an old friend of mine. Went by the name of Three Feet Tony. Got caught up in a bad
cartel run of illegal goods that gave him a one way ticket to their most prominent facility."
"...A prison system?" Dylan blinked at the bizarreness of it all. 
"Managed to get out on good behavior." Beka then crossed her arms. "In five separate packages.
Never did find out what happened to that third foot."
Something told Dylan that this was going to run about as smoothly as most of their negotiations. 
Which means not at all and with about twice as much bureaucracy. "Well then, we have no time to 
waste. Andromeda try to open a Dialogue with..." He lifted up a hand in doubt, "Anyone who'll
pick up our hails. We'll work backwards from there." 









Not to say that the job wasn't perfect(Hey! Anybody could be a bomb dog if they put their heart
and soul into it!) but then there were the long hours, the crappy pay, not to mention the suicidal
tendencies required to get the position to begin with...
"It's like an invisible wall." He pointed out, not that anyone really cared. "Kinda like a power
grid under our feet..." Guiding the collar in his hands over the line, he noticed that the line he had 
been following was slanted. Like whoever had set it up got lazy and just started moving it a bit more
outwards instead of following an exact straight line which made no sense seeing as there were no outside
connectors keeping the invisible framework in tact. There were no signs of the ground being disturbed
enough to set up a system like this, either. In fact, he was sure it was impossible to set up the barrier
from underground in the first place. This meant- "No way..." He gaped in awe, looking up at the sky. 
"Right over our heads." 
"What're you talking about now?"
"The grid!" No, no, dumb it down for 'em. "The wall! Whatever's keeping us here is being beamed down from
above!"
"I don't see what that has to do anything."
"Oh? You don't do you?." Okay, time for a little science lesson. Reaching into his pocket, he salvaged 
a coin, showing it off to the crowd before flicking it and watching it spin between his fingers. "This
little guy is a planet. What do planets do?" 
Lefty let out a sigh. "I dunno, sit around in space waiting to be plundered?" 
"They rotate you imbecile!" 
"Haha! Two points to Nietzschy over here." Harper grinned, closing his hand over the coin. "So let's say
this planet has something beaming down on it, like, say a beam." Yeah, clever wording there, idiot. 
A moment of consideration.
"Then the wall will always be moving. Encroaching upon us."
"Which means..."
"There's nowhere to rest and only one way to run."
"Exactly." Harper nodded before the reality suddenly dawned on him. He didn't like this. 
It made his skin crawl. Actually, that wasn't the only thing. Reaching up under his collar, 
Harper ran his fingers over the claw marks up his neck, following their trail up to his dataport
and, lo and behold, there was the cause of all his grief. Or about twenty percent of it, anyway.
"Do you need a flea collar?" The Nietzschean at his side griped.
Yeah, because the explosive one was already doing him so many favors. 
"Nah, I think I'll scratch my itch when we get outta here..." He began despite every good
sense he ever developed in his life screaming at him to stop, "...With all thirty of your sisters."
Yep. That earned him a well delivered black eye. 
Freezing, Righty looked around in a panic. "Did you hear that?" 
"I think that was my I.Q. going down at least like three points." Harper whined, instinctively
covering his face just in case this guy decided to turn him into a one-eyed wonder. 
"No, there's someone else." He sniffed the air only to look more pissed off that your typical
Grade-A Nietzschean. Shaking his head, his face curled in on itself, "I can't get a good handle
on his scent."
"His?" 










"By Order of The Commonwealth, we demand you return Seamus Harper back to our vessel." Words
Dylan never thought he'd hear himself saying. 
"By Order of The Commonwealth, we will release your crewmember once he finishes his duty." 
Chimed the uniformed official on the other line. 
"And what, exactly, is that duty?" 
"Have you ever heard of the term 'community service'?"
"I don't see what that has to do with this clear violation of an individual's rights."
"Please, allow us to explain." She began, "You see, we've taken into consideration your actions 
in abetting a certain criminal's escape upon starting a full-fledged war. One that has already begun to
take it's toll on the Commonwealth. Seeing as your crew has already built up quite the registry
over the years, we assumed the most reasonable course of action is assuming one of your crewmen
could work towards redeeming these crimes by the simple action of serving his Commonwealth."
"Ah, I see." Dylan nodded, tight lipped, translating their flowery words into their actual 
meaning. "So, a favor." 
"Exactly." 
"Well, General, that then brings us to our next question, then, doesn't it?" Calming the twinge
in the corner of his mouth with a forced smile, slanted and professional, Dylan left his place
at the base of his console to walk in front of the viewscreen.
"How many of these 'favors' are you going to debt my crew with until we've finally 'redeemed'
ourselves in the eyes of the Commonwealth?"
Here, a tightly knit smile threatened to pull at the corners of her mouth. She stopped to consider
her words, choosing them wisely. 
"As many as we need."









It felt like somebody just dumped a completely different puzzle over the last one which, by the
way have you ever seen somebody do that? The water and sky pieces get all mixed together and it's just
a real mess. You're never going to get that thing solved so you might as well throw 'em both out and 
go find yourself a new hobby. 
Too bad life didn't really work like that. 

One thirty-second procession of silence between the three of them drew only one idea. Unfortunately,
this one came from the guy with nothing to lose. "Do it again." Lefty ordered, taking a firm half-step
back as far as he could. 
"Hey, wait, hold on here! You guys want to draw in whatever's out there?" Harper begged, more
for the sake of his other eye than anything involving reason. "If he's followed us out here, 
that means he's tracking us. That means he knows exactly what we've been up to for who knows
how long. That means he's holding off until some kind of opportunity falls in his lap and, 
if you ask me, I don't wanna be out here waiting around for the other shoe to drop." He sputtered
off, punctuating each use of the word 'that' like his life depended on it which, honestly, it
probably did at this point.
"The human is right." Righty declared, not exactly detailing which human he was referring to.
Of course, until he received another punch to his diaphragm. In a split second, Harper's breakfast became
his lunch. After all, who needed details when you had fists? 
"I definitely heard that one." Lefty announced in a panic, scanning the underbrush for any 
sign of movement. 

"So we have been followed. I knew it." Righty lamented.
"What kind of coward-" Lefty started only to be shut up by a disarming glare.
"'Coward' is not the word you're looking for. Studying one's prey is smart. Productive." This guy 
was starting to look a little too revved up for Harper's liking, "It's the sign of experience."
In what you could probably call 'a moment of pure madness' if you believed that madness had anything
to do with it, the Nietzschean eyed him up and down, practically frothing at an idea that had started
to formulate in his mind. No, this wasn't madness. This was all going to be very calculated.
Snagging Harper's hand, he wrapped a finger around his index in all the wrong ways to say 'you're 
never going to be able to use this again'. 
"Oh no no no no no!" Harper yelled, slipping out of captivity only to get dragged back by the back 
of his shirt and wrestled up off his feet. 
"You've drawn your last chance." Drawing his blaster, the Nietzschean planted it at the back of his 
neck so that he could feel the heat rise up against his spine. This wasn't some kind of scare tactic
gunplay for kiddies, this was a surefire target. "Come out or we blow his head off!" He called, 
keeping Harper nestled right in place. 
"You can't be serious!" Harper pleaded, now finding the act of begging not as totally pathetic and 
degrading as he used to. In fact, he could probably make a career out of it. Start a business. Get people 
with weird complexes interested. 
Or he could spout off what he was really thinking. "If you kill me, who's gonna do all your dirty work 
for you!? I'm the only one here trying to get us off this rock! Without me, it's just you two up against
some homicidal swamp freak!" He spat out, feeling the tension between the trigger and the finger holding it
start to tighten until- 

"It would be wise to save your ammunition." Dragged a voice, deep and slow, from the darkness around 
them. "By all means, I am not one to be dealt with, easily." 
Staring at the figure as it encroached upon them, Harper could feel all of his worst nightmares 
reach a head. He was bloodied, dirty, and beat; pulled far past the end of his road.

"Tyr..."










To say Dylan was heartbroken was an understatement. Not saying that anyone really expected 
The Commonwealth to be this magic solution to everything, but, Beka found it almost cruel 
watching it fail him again and again. They had taken everything he had worked so hard to build 
and left him with just this big screwed up version of everything he had ever believed in. 
And now they've taken Harper.

"If I may be so bold..." Beka started, suddenly feeling a twinge of professionalism take over just to
make the big guy feel like a big guy again. "I think I know how to get access to the planet from here."
Dylan moved a bit from his place at his desk, like someone had just shaken him from a trance. 
"Humor me." He said, folding his fingers over his mouth, letting his elbows slide out, holding him
steady. 
"Our signals might be blocked off, but theirs isn't." She watched him rest his chin on his fingers,
knee suddenly bobbing with impatience. "We can pull any visual or audio signals from the planet. We can 
send a signal down, we just can't pick one up." 
"Andromeda." He called, staring past Beka as the hologram sprung to life beside her, "Is this within your
capabilities?"
The ship's eyes searched the inner workings of her own mainframe, stopping only to widen her stance with 
anticipation. "I believe it is." Of course it would be. After all, despite time passing them by, her
systems from the old Commonwealth still had more reliable tech than anything you could pass off as modernized. 
This lead to the question that was on everybody's mind. "Beka, are you sure we can locate anything that might
give us a clue as to Mr. Harper's whereabouts?"
That, she could not. But she could make it sound like she could. "Trust me, there's no prison facility 
that doesn't have some kind of monitoring systems in place." See? It wasn't technically a
lie just so long as she didn't use anything too fatally exact like the words 'yes' or 'no'. 
"Besides that, guards on a planet like this would require too much training, not just with basic duties
but they'd essentially have to be forced to participate in the same survival situation inside a hostile 
environment. Automation would clear up all their problems but punch a hole right in their security."
Now Dylan was really revving up, his eyes sharpening until she could see the wheels in his mind starting
to turn again. "Are you telling me it's a prison with no actual staff?"
"I'm saying it's a prison run by a bunch of robots." She then turned to The Andromeda, "The, uh, not-sentient kind."
"No offense taken." She reassured her.
"Like flipping a switch and leaving it on, they hoped the bulb would keep burning." 
Dylan chewed on that thought. "Setting up...a potential disaster." 
"It would be unfortunate if it started to burn out..." The Andromeda weighed in, "...Even for a short 
amount of time." 
"That could leave quite the opening." Dylan egged her on.
"Anything could happen." Beka smiled. 
"It would be chaos." Dylan smiled back.
"Anarchy."


Huh, maybe all those low tech crackpots were onto something about automation being our downfall.

















How cruel it was to be witnessed in such a state. He wondered if he looked pitiable or monstrous.
Or both, he considered, if one was to pity a monster. 

"I knew it!!" Just his presence, alone, was enough to pull the lynchpin of what one would regard neutrality.
The Nietzschean before him aimed his blaster down at his own chained foot and pulled the trigger. 
Relieving himself of that much muscle mass, he was no longer shackled to his temporary companions, 
destroying enough tissue to allow him to slip out of his chains but leaving just enough to stay afoot.
 
"Pathetic." Tyr goaded him, unlovingly, allowing his condition to be observed as he guided himself
further into the light of one of the planet's moons. "You're preparing for an execution when you 
should be preparing for the end." 

Being discarded by his captor, Harper quickly found himself taken up by a new one. 
"Are you kidding me!?" The other human shouted, dragging him back up to his feet by his shirt, "You 
know this guy!?" 
This he did not answer.
He only stood there, frozen, staring. 
It was all he needed to know. 
Raising his hands to Harper's throat, the human snatched him up and started wringing his neck. Quickly,
Tyr circled to his aid only to be blocked off by the other Nietzschean's build. "We're not finished
here, Anasazi." He grinned as he made his body into an ever-present wall between him and the boy. 
Watching this exchange, the human's eyes lit up with an idea; perhaps something he assumed would be clever.
It was enough to have him release his prey only to snatch him up, quickly disappearing into the night. 

The sight didn't fare well for Tyr's state but he let it wash over him, fueling something that had long 
since been snuffed out. "That we are not." He spoke, slowly, meticulously, feeling every word roll 
against his tongue, savoring it. Tasting something besides the detritus that had gathered in every 
corner inch of his mouth.

They encircled each other; assessing, first, by sight, then by smell. Simply put,
they were a perfect match. Picked for the means of an equal fight. After all, Tyr knew if his captors 
wanted to execute him, they'd simply just have eradicated him on the spot. Not draw out this
proverbial dance of to and fro. This was no Purgatory and there would be no form of redemption
awaiting him once it was all over. 
"Tyr Anasazi!" His kin, in name only, bellowed, flashing him a grin that bordered on euphoria.
"How lucky I am for you to have been brought before me today!" 


Given the amount of damage he caused by his own self mutilations, the fellow Nietzschean had 
imposed a time limit upon their encounter. Meaning there were only two outcomes; neither of which
opened an invitation for a silver tongue to slide in. 
Brandishing his bone blades, the Nietzschean started cracking each individual finger on his hand,
starting with his thumb; one, two, three. "Look at you, your time with those kludges has
domesticated you." Four, five. "All the fire of survival has been burned from your soul." A
change of hands. Six, seven, eight. "You brought yourself down to a level of obedience for them.
No better than a dog." Nine. "Tell me, my dear stray, did they castrate you before they cast 
you aside?" As his hand slid down to strike his final knuckle, he came to the realization that
it just simply was no longer there, his palm cupped over the bloody stump in a sudden panic.
Panic, of course, led to fury and fury led to bad decision making. This found itself in the form 
of a premature draw of his weapon. 

Pulling back, Tyr dodged a quick stream of fire. Three shots. Given the make and model of his 
blaster meant that a full clip held twelve but his opponent didn't seem like the type to run
around fully prepared to begin with. He gave off the air of someone who was used to winning, 
developing a personality that hinged on ego over anything else. His responses were registering
as brash, childish, boorish. Rounding him up, simply, as an idiot. 
"Do you like dancing for me?!" He shouted far too loudly as a show of faux dominance. "I'm almost
delighted you've already been broken, it makes you easier to train!!" Three more shots.

The amount of overconfidence one has over the simple act of holding a firearm never ceased to 
amaze him. Keeping his breath regulated as to not expose any aspect of his nature in front of 
his opponent, Tyr sharpened his tongue into something a bit more grievous.
"Tell me, how does it feel needing to hide behind an apparatus?" He inquired with an air of 
boredom, "Are you afraid to speak otherwise?" Continuing his circle, his opponent seemed caught
up in a defensive array of responses piling up his senses until they were too heavy to focus.
"Or maybe you only are able to spill these words while cowering as you are." Approaching, Tyr
slowly let the light glow of the blaster pointed at him illuminate his features, dressed in a 
veil of dirt, blood, and debris; "Or maybe you thought the smell of death I carried was my own."

Another squeeze of the trigger was intercepted by a quick grab of his weapon. A feat Tyr only 
managed to succeed at out of sheer luck, something he was quite sure he wouldn't be able to 
succeed at twice. Not in his current state. This complicated his next course of action as it 
hinged on a formulated pool of assumptions. You see, assumptions meant playing with death but 
death was seldom kind and never fair. Pulling the firearm down, he found relief in watching 
his opponent, out of stubborn will, clamp his hand down harder on it, refusing to let
go, leaving his dominant side exposed just long enough for Tyr to punch through it with his 
a flat hand. Feeling the tips of his fingers find a length of intestine, he grabbed a hold of it
and pulled up, not out. If he pulled out, that would create distance and distance was crucial
to keeping any retaliation from happening. So up they were strung until the length of his 
intestine met his heart. 
A spasm echoed throughout his adversary's body. "You fight well, Anasazi." Even when reduced to 
flattery at death's door, he still couldn't spit out anything even remotely thought provoking. 
Tragic. 
With a resigned stare, Tyr squeezed his hand, finally feeling the blaster drop between his feet.
"I wish I could say the same for you."













Being strung up like a salami wasn't a good look for Harper. The blood was already rushing
to his head, giving him a killer headache and making him feel dizzier than the time he had to 
siphon gasoline out of an old cruiser with a rubber hose and a sturdy stomach. Plus, it didn't 
do any wonders for his hair, either. "Hey, buddy, just hurry up and kill me. I don't think I 
can stand this caveman caribou crap much longer." 
"Oh, no, see, I can't kill you yet." Lefty chuckled like some kind of bad guy from a B-Movie
ready to monologue his evil plan. Except the monologue really never came. 
"Wait, that's it?" 
"What's what?"
He was livid. "You're not gonna tell me what your grand scheme is!?"
"Why would I do that?" Talk about a lack of culture.
"I don't know. It-it seems like that's only fair." 
"You want to talk about fair!? I'm trapped on a swamp planet with two Nietzscheans and the only other 
human here is buddy-buddy with the one that's not only public enemy number one, but, might be my only 
means of getting off this rock." 
Well, when you put it that way. "Okay, you got me there." 
"Besides, I need full concentration to-" He then stopped talking, body stilling against the 
backing chorus of wind blowing through the tunnel. Holding his breath, Harper watched as he 
slowly drew his knife from his boot and pressed the blade into his palm, splitting it open 
just enough to draw blood and probably what was the most pathetic yelp of his life. 
Well, okay, third most. 
"What was that for!?" Harper yelled, turning up his hand to stare at the gash. 
"I could hear him getting too close." He pointed from his ears to his nose, "Thought I'd give 
him a little nonverbal warning." Changing hands, he then wrapped Harper's fist around the blade
and started to pull.
"Wait! Wait! What if I help you!?" Funny how little it took to rock the boat. "You let me in on
your plan and I'll cooperate One-Hundred-Percent. After all, it's not you against me out here,
it's us against him."
"And how do you figure that?"
Time to cast his line or go home.
"What? You're saying that wasn't a Nietzschean's handiwork we happened across earlier?" He watched
the blade fall flat in his palm. "How many prisoners do you think they threw at this guy before us?
Not to mention for how long..." A look of consideration, good, good. "And look at me, I know this
guy!! I know how he thinks and, right about now, he believes I'm your helpless little hostage."
"Because you are." Confusion, alright. Now to bombard him with the big one.
"On come on!!" He scoffed in feign disbelief, "You've never heard of the great genius Seamus Harper!?"
"Not particularly." 
Ouch, okay, let's back it up a bit.
"Head Engineer of the Andromeda Ascendant, nice to meet ya!" He raised his bloody hand with a
smile that could only be described as 'salacious'. "Did I mention I make a great toady?"
Sincerity, confusion; all good signs. "And you're going to just...help me?" 
"Let's just say I have a score to settle." He reasoned and, granted, it wasn't exactly a lie
on his part. Plus, the guy was already biting, all he had to do was reel him in nice and slow.  
"How big of a score?" 
"Oh, you have no idea."

















"Alright, we only have one chance to do this." Dylan announced, "Andromeda, are you ready?" 
"I am." Responded the ship as she brought up her signal relay to upload any and all footage
taken within the planet's last rotation. 
Sprawling out a planetary map across her viewscreen, Beka set her eyes to the one in front 
of her, just one split-second glimpse and she could get a location. Once again, everything was 
resting on both her and the ship she'd been piloting for years to work hand-in-hand as a cohesive unit. 
As the guiding hand of her crew, she knew there was no margin for error and no turning back past
this point. "Alright." She breathed to herself, mentally cutting out the parts of her brain that 
were mounting with doubts, regrets, and fear; leaving only efficiency in her wake. Harper might 
have the physical means of doing so, but, Beka had other ways of synching up with their fellow machine.



"Go."











Hours. Hours were nothing. Tyr could wait for centuries as he was; rigid, prepared. The wait
meant nothing to him. One with a cluttered mind would usually find an act like this revolting,
clamoring for stimulation, giving away their location in an instant. To him, there was 
peace in the wait. So he rested, keeping his mind alert to any movement before him. 

It wasn't long after their third hour that he heard one pair of feet shuffle from the cave
followed by another. A chase. One that quickly ended as the boy became apprehended by a quick
grab and the drawing of a knife. 

The wait was over.  
    

Emerging from the underbrush, Tyr pulled his friend from the man's grasp, flinging him to 
the side just as a wide smile met his fist and was knocked to the ground. 
"Now! Do it now!!" The human shouted as his twisted grin found a way to untwist itself into sheer horror. 
Dropping down, Tyr mounted him, knees digging into the mud as he delivered blow after blow, feeling the 
crack of cartilage and bone against his palms, his knuckles, his hands soaking in a stew of centuries 
of evolutionary trappings that once formed the face of man.
A face that now no longer stared back at him for it did no longer exist. 
It's absence brought relief and, with it, pain.

The days and nights of endless violence compiled like a tower that was now crumbling overhead,
each stone naturally carved it's way through Tyr in it's absence. He once thought this ache
was akin to missing an old companion, but, it was the act of building the tower in the first 
place that had harmed him. 
"You're...safe now." He breathed.
"Yeah, about that..." An obscene look stretched across the boy's face as he balanced a whistle
between his fingers, letting the instrument twirl until it found it's place nestled between
his index and middle finger. "You could say I wasn't really in all that much danger to begin 
with." Before Tyr could even remotely register this curiosity, Harper put the whistle to his 
lips and blew, swarming his already battered senses into a flurry of blind agony. 
Clasping his hands up to his ears, Tyr twisted his eyes shut. A mistake. 
One that accost him his senses long enough for Harper to use the opportunity to bind his 
ankles together. Fighting against the tears that threatened to spill over, Tyr forced his eyes 
open long enough to see the mechanical trap the boy had managed to cobble together. It was an
explosive collar rewired by the electrical trappings of the local 'wildlife' and it was heating
up fast. 
Immediately, Tyr rolled off the body below him and onto his back, pulling his knees up to his 
chin, deft hands trying to work their way around the contraption but to no avail. It was going to 
detonate soon and it was going to take his legs with it. 

Panic. Panic led to bad decisions. Fear. Fear also led to bad decisions. Heartbreak. Heartbreak
led to even worse decisions. All his senses were a cloud around his head and mud around his feet
accosting him to-
Wait.
Mud.

Rolling again a few more times, he noticed the device started to cool down, the exposed wiring 
fighting to stay active against his endeavors but it wasn't enough. He needed to snuff it out 
and fast. Eyeing a nearby body of water, he pushed himself, forwards, sliding until his ankles breached
the water, drowning the device just as it started to light up again. Collapsing against the 
shoreline, he pulled his legs back up to undo his bindings only to find that he made the deathly
mistake of making assumptions. As soon as the device was no longer submerged, it started to
heat up once again, this time, faster. Submerging his legs even deeper, he kept trying to drown
it only to find that no matter how deep he plunged his body, the more overloaded the device became.

Staring down the end, Tyr felt his body give way, leaving him stranded on his back, the 
onslaught of rain now kissing his features with delight. Closing his eyes, he listened as 
Harper drew closer, opening them only to meet his victor face to face. His expression was
not one of relief or rage but enchantment. 
He must've looked like a siren beached upon the shore as he was, caught up in a sailor's netting.
"Once I am free of this contraption, any preconceived notions you may have had about our
relationship will be over." 
It was here that he realized that his sway on the human was nonexistent. Tyr had spent years
watching men in his presence melt away from sheer intimidation but, here? 
There wasn't even a speck of fear in Harper's eyes. 

"You expect me to believe that?" He scoffed, "You had the Drago in your sights and you couldn't
even take the shot. All because, what? Dylan tells you not to?" Enchantment turned to mourning 
as he splayed his fingers up around his dataport, playing them across a drive in it like he was
searching for a switch or a button that simply didn't exist. 
"Ah." Tyr acknowledged, noticing that he was not pulling it out, but, simply playing
his fingers against it. "The circumstances were more ambivalent than that."
"Were they though?" Harper asked, now circling him, sizing up his prey. "Because this is how I 
see it: you sat on this massive secret for years. Years! And you didn't tell anybody! Instead, 
you just sat on your hands, until the right opportunity fell into your lap."
"I didn't even know you then."
"You could've told me!!" He shouted, outstretched arms now poised against the grey sky. "Any time!!"
"You would never have-"
"I would've helped!" 

Rolling to his side, he wrenched his hand around the human's ankle, finding it had no give to it.
Hard to knock over, Tyr realized that Harper's gait suddenly changed to that of one who 
had spent years practicing on a surfboard, stout legs keeping him evenly dug into the mud that 
continued to plague his surroundings. 
"You think I wouldn't? I'm stuck making bomb after bomb for Dylan to drop on anything he wants
and you don't think I wouldn't take one, well aimed, potshot at the motherload?! After all they've 
done to you, after all they've done to us, you still didn't even have the cajones to-"
Expressing a rage that had been deeply rooted into his being, Harper, made a move as if it was
going to explode out of him all at once before caterwauling in frustration. A rain soaked hand
slowly cleaning off his face in a downward motion, washing his expression away. 
"I would've gone with you."
"What?" 
"If you had asked, I would've gone with you."
"You wouldn't."
"Yes I would've."
"Think about it, if you had, would that have been strategic to your survival?"
"I don't know, Tyr." He spoke of his name as if it's taste was so bitter, just having it on
his tongue made him spit it back out, reviled and disgusted. "Seems like no matter what we did, 
we would've just ended up here." He reasoned. "Or dead."

Lunging out of the water, Tyr, once again, grabbed at the boy's ankles, just out of reach, 
the device around his own neck began to heat and he quickly retreated further into the swamp. 
"Ah ah ah..." Harper chastised him with a pointed finger in the air in a manner that one
would consider 'smug', 'pleased', 'condescending' and, overall, 'annoying'. "You see, we're
at the edge of the map, here." He tilted his head to the left, dangerously close to the
border so that the warning lights of his own device started to flash. "One wrong move and, well, 
I don't have to tell you, right?" Giving the drive in his now exposed dataport a scratch, he 
retreated back. 
"That...thing is skewing your perspective."
"No." He crossed his arms, reasonably, "The court's still out on brainwashing technology. This is 
more of a...'makes me do stuff I usually only think about and then feel bad about it' kinda deal." 
His eyes scaled over him, clinically, as if he was assessing a piece of machinery. 
"Hurts like hell, though." 
Even under the influence of others, Harper still remained a singular constant in the universe.
As if, at the end of all things, there he would remain, jesting at the sight of a sun enveloping
itself. Perhaps with another one of his insights, taking into account the damage being done. 
How much damage, Tyr wondered, has he accumulated in their time apart? The thought should make
him feel naked, vulnerable, like his stomach and throat were exposed, but, instead it was soothing.
Under his gaze, one was being monitored for repairs and upkeep, not destruction.
"You know, most people think you can just stick just about anything in this thing like it isn't
hardwired to my brain." 
"Then why not remove it?"
"You know why."
The answer suddenly bloomed to life across Tyr's face. 
Because only one of them was going to come out of this alive.
Because he knew he valued Harper's safety over his own.
Because Tyr could later easily twist the story to make himself believe he had done the right thing.
"You always preferred the easy way out." Tyr lamented.
"Hey, you think this was easy? I had to plan everything down to the percent!"
"Tell me," He offered, watching as Harper's body started to fall lax from standing in the same
position too long, "What was the percentage?" 
As per his nature, Harper took the question into consideration, giving Tyr just enough leeway
to uproot him from his position, flinging him over his shoulder and into the water below. 
Using his weight to draw them both under, Tyr could feel the murky depths smother his senses
into something dull, lackadaisical. Harper thrashed against him, violently, the need to remain
alive still bursting through his DNA just as it did when they were cornered by the Magog.
'Oh, my friend,' He thought, restraining the flurry of limbs against his body. 
'You will not die here.' Fighting against the current of detritus filling his mouth, Tyr slipped
his teeth under the collar, fastening his jaw around the device hidden underneath, and pulled it
from his dataport. The body in his arms jolted, violently, against his before falling limply in
his grasp. 
Breaching the surface, Tyr drew the both of them towards the shore to relieve their exhaustion upon, 
still trapped between land and mire. It was here that he swallowed the air like it was sweetest thing he
had tasted, the pangs of too many battles returning for their pound of flesh. Each, like
a shroud over his body, taking their cruel registry. 
Checking over Harper's condition, he found himself staring at the boy like he was a figment out of 
a particularly bizarre dream. 


He looked so miserably human. 



Humans. 
From their rib, Niezchians were born as a new, more evolved, species and yet here was proof
that despite evolution carrying on, they remained untouched as ancient progenitors of his own
kind. A broken cog in a wheel that never stopped turning towards the future. 
Despite this, he had seen his own kin childishly stumbling over themselves in the dark without
fire to guide them. It made Tyr feel like a modern day Prometheus, punished for defying the 
gods and trying to guide his own out of the dark ages. 
He shivered.
The mud was starting to cool around them and he knew it was a matter of time before he could
take advantage of the dropping temperature to unbind himself from Harper's contraption. Until
then, he'd keep the boy held against his body until morning came and, with it... 
















"Welcome back aboard, Mister Harper." Chirped something that wasn't an interface for once. Taking
a deep breath, Harper couldn't help but to thank whatever beautiful soul had created the grand 
feat of innovation known as the air filtration unit. Oh, goodbye humidity! Hello good ol' regulated, 
air conditioned, dry-mouth-inducing love of his life! 
Turning from Dylan to Trance who was currently changing out what he just now realized was a 
catheter(a detail he was going to ignore for the sake of his own sanity), he started to cackling
in disbelief. "Ninety seven!!" He shouted, to an uncomfortably silent audience. His hands scrambled to
grab at Trance's sleeve, drawing her in, "Ninety seven percent!!" Releasing her, he then planted
a hand over his face, his laughter threatening to turn to tears at any second. 


"Uh, Trance?" Dylan asked, turning to her with a concerned stare, "How much did you-"
"Not that much." She answered back, pressing a little too much emphasis on 'that' to be believed.
Well, no matter. It was safe to say they could chalk this one up to a win for today. Or at least
it will be once he finished attending to one last matter of consequence.  






The second Dylan left the medical bay, his demeanor began to diminish with each step towards
his next destination. As the doors slid open, he watched the figure in the holding cell stir.
"Well that certainly was a predicament we found the two of you in." He declared, announcing his
entrance with a courteous nod towards the guards who, in turn, left the room. 
"Is-"
"He's fine."
The relief that washed over every inch of Tyr's features drew into one of exhaustion. One that
told the story of a man on the run and several brushes with death that best remained not sympathized
with. 
"You see, if Mister Harper's condition had been anything but fine, I wouldn't have granted you
the kindness I have provided for you, here." Folding his hands behind his back as a sign of
restraint, he looked into the cell as if it was a mirror of his own image. Distorted, but, 
tangible. "Best remember you are no longer aboard this ship as a fellow crewmate. You are a 
prisoner here. Do not make me regret my decision." 
Parsing through his professionalism, Tyr swallowed, "You mean I'm a bargaining chip."
Ignoring his outburst, Dylan half shrugged, "Call it whatever you want. But your actions will be
taken care of in accordance to the standards of The Commonwealth." 
"Your Commonwealth."
"The true Commonwealth."