Chapter 5: Old Friends

The Hull was the nickname given to the colossal frame of an abandoned dreadnought class warship in Sector 12F, that had crash-landed into the station, back during Omicron’s chaotic founding some odd seventy plus years ago.

The humongous derelict ship had been stripped of its values a long time ago, leaving only the decorticated frame. The great strakes, robbed of its metal plating, stood out like the decrepit ribs of a giant metal skeleton, growing evermore imposing as one closed in on the old warship.

From the bottom of each strake, and running up their length like grapevines, were thousands of makeshift buildings and ramshackle constructs covered in their respective pirate insignias, displaying affiliation and designating territories. In between the great strakes were levitating buildings kept afloat with propulsion systems and an impressive armada of pirate ships of various sizes in hovering mode, essentially creating a floating city that connected to the thousands of buildings on the strakes by a perplexing swarm of girders, gantries, and footbridges.

The Hull was basically its own society within Omicron, relying on its own rules and traditions, and united in common purpose against non-pirate gangs and syndicates trying to wrest control of their territory. Yet the Hull had no ruling body or appointed leaders, as the pirates were always competing and fighting each other outside of the station. Stability and the avoidance of war within the Hull were ensured by a common code of conduct, referred to as Decagon’s Edict.

The enigmatic Decagon was widely referred to as the king of pirates, and the edict was the code of conduct enacted on his own ships, which had later been implemented in the Hull as a whole. However, no one had seen the elusive pirate king for years, who many suspected was one-third of the triumvirate who de facto ruled Omicron.

In the pirate king’s absence, it was his lieutenant Cylass the Crimson who was in charge of his merry band of interstellar misfits known ostensibly as The Redeemers.

Jack felt slightly on edge as the autocab made its way through the Hull’s airspace, carefully evading and bypassing the massive amount of interconnected buildings and spacecrafts.

The pirate and the hunter community, despite some overlap from time to time, were inherently at odds with one other, as the latter was often hired to hunt the former. Jack had taken on some pirate bounties in the past, and running into the wrong crew here might mean an expedited one-way ticket to the afterlife for him. However, it had been a few years ago since he had last completed a pirate bounty, as pirates were frustratingly difficult marks. Pirates were vastly different individuals of widely diverging morals and ideologies and came in all species. Some did piracy out of greed, others for justice, and some just for the sheer chaos and excitement of it all. There was no certain way or a particular approach to taking down a pirate mark. Often, they would be on their ship surrounded by a murderous crew of trigger-happy scumbags or hidden somewhere deep within the Hull which always complicated things.

It often took blood-money, skullduggery and a little pinch of betrayal to extract a pirate mark without having to kill off an entire crew. It was often more bother than it was worth, so most hunters left the pirate hunting to the Federation and other entities capable of taking on the pirates’ significant numbers.

Although thousands lived within the Hull, like larvae in a decomposing body, and despite the fact that the great warship was the home to many bars, gambling dens, hideouts and brothels, it was deep within the skeleton of the ship that one could find the main attraction: The Pits.

Finally, the autocab touched down at the bottom of one of the great strakes. The warm lights from the many colorful bars and establishments was a stark contrast to the otherwise dark and cold interior predominant in the upper parts of the huge vessel. Here at the bottom of one of the strakes, mismatched buildings were precariously stacked on top of each other in a bewildering fashion.

The area was a galactic melting pot, with seemingly every species in the galaxy traversing the many footbridges and gantries. Jack hopped out of the autocab, and adroitly avoided an Akarian pimp who was eye-balling him in the hopes of securing some work for two sullen Terran whores puffing nicotiana sticks behind him. Skittering past the pimp and the girls, Jack walked just a few blocks before reaching his destination.

Wedged in between a cluster of stacked buildings covered with tattered burgundy banners emblazoned with a gold sigil, was a three-story building fashioned with a great sign that read: Madame Morghana’s. The battered old casino, which also served as a sort of cabaret show, music house, comedy club, and speakeasy, had stood the test of time and was famously (or infamously) believed to be the oldest standing building in the Hull. It was technically owned by a particularly notorious pirate crew known as the Golden Fang, but the proprietor and daily manager, from whom the establishment was also named, was Madame Morghana.

Madame Morghana had once been a high-class escort in the upper echelons of Omicron society, but had seemingly crossed the wrong client, and had ended up dumped in the Warrens with a shredded and mutilated hand, and half her face carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Plenty of psychopaths at the top of Omicron’s hierarchy. Jack crossed the street towards the casino, with a growing sense of foreboding of entering the pirate-infested den. Somebody inside might know him. If not in person, then by reputation. Jack had made a lot more enemies than friends throughout the years, and on Omicron death was an old friend. He adjusted his clothes, feeling comfort in the hidden gun under his jacket. Then he nodded to two brutish Kinto doormen before stepping into the casino.

The jazzy house music of a Dravv scrap band was audible as soon as Jack entered the establishment. The rhythmic and improvised music mixed with the high-pitched pings and babble of the casino’s many patrons blowing their credits on endless rows of tazbaar slot-machines and virtual games of chance, in a cacophony of sound. Of the many vices Jack so freely embraced, gambling had never been one of them. It didn’t really hold any attraction to him. When one’s entire life were stacked against you, it seemed foolish beyond measure to further stack those odds. Jack mostly played when the odds of winning was skewed in his favor. Which technically wasn’t gambling.

The inside of the building was spacious, with light flooding in from several virtual two-story-tall windows, making it look like the insides of a church. A church owned by a whore he mused. The ground floor was covered with gambling tables and tazbaar slot-machines, and seemingly one representative of each known species in the galaxy. The first floor had been removed and replaced with a wide gallery overlooking the ground floor. This area was reserved for the high rollers. The VIP clientele.

From the ground floor, Jack could spot Madame Morghana in a large red velvet sofa conversing with a sharply-dressed male Nekarin. A species of bipedal humanoid felines. She was laughing at a remark made by the man, and she skillfully tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, and tapped the man lightly on his thigh. A gentle gesture, yet thick with sexual innuendo. Although pushing fifty, Madame Morghana was still a stunning woman. Her skin was smooth and her auburn hair was long and lustrous and tied with golden thread. She wore a simple green and gold dress, exquisitely fitted to accentuate her sensual form. A simple white mask covered one half of her face to hide her disfigurement underneath, and on her right hand, she wore an elegant white glove to conceal her bionic hand replacement. Jack didn’t know why she had never had her face re-created. She certainly had the money. Everyone deals with trauma in their own way.

Jack made his way across the gambling floor, and past a smaller room where a sad-looking Akarian with poorly applied face-paint was attempting a comedy routine for a gathering of mainly Terran patrons, who seemed disinterested in whether the performer was alive or not. Past this room was the back of the establishment, which was reserved for members of the Golden Fang.

There was a small bar in the corner serviced by three busty lilac-skinned Varsii, who flirted and attended to the needs of the many pirates sitting in the room. Jack didn’t recognize any of the members but noticed an Avarrian wearing what looked like a golden monocle.

The Avarrian had three golden stars on his brown uniform, and by his feet lay a large red beast with dark stripes. A Mamonian hound. These beasts of prey were prized assets for their fierce loyalty and their ability to shred most organics to pieces in a matter of seconds. It indicated that the Avarrian was a high-standing and successful member of the Golden Fang. Jack walked to the back of the room, under the scrutinizing gaze of the avian pirate and his bestial guardian. In the back of the room was the elevator that led to the pits underneath the casino. Guarding the elevator stood a heavily muscled Skamiir who frisked Jack swiftly for weapon-types not allowed in the pits, such as explosives. The Skamiir nodded to the pirate leader and the Avarrian flicked dismissively with his hand, allowing Jack entrance.

The atmosphere of the pits was as always thick with the excitement of the rowdy crowd, the horde of patrons drinking and betting on the outcomes of the brutal fights. The pits themselves were made inside round metal exhaust frames, creating a circular metal ring with high walls. Around these pits were gantries and platforms that accommodated the hundreds of onlookers. Along the edges of the pits were steel frames decorated with great metal spikes, skulls from an endless horde of different species, and melee weapons that had once belonged to fighters of the pits. The place was reminiscent of a less civilized age. Some pit fighters became famous on Omicron, like gladiators of old, and lived a life in luxury and recognition. For however long they lasted.

Jack made his way through the crowded gantry to get a better view of the active pits of the day. On an electronic screen, Jack could see that only two of the six pits were active today - and only one of them had humanoid combatants. He hurried across several gantries and pushed his way past the vast crowd, trying not to provoke anyone too grievously as he made for the front rows. Fists, claws, and blades hung loose in a place like the pits when the excitement of violence and the red mist took over.

He ducked just in the nick of time as a handful of spectator drones whooshed past him. Spectator drones were the way the elite of Omicron watched the brutal fights. Safe within their well-guarded ivory towers, the top of Omicron’s hierarchy did not need to lower themselves by visiting the pits physically. Yet, they had their part in orchestrating the fights, acting through liaisons and henchmen, and a not-insignificant amount of the gambling profits was funneled to the top. Jack reached the edge of the pit, stopping next to an excited Akarian dressed in expensive clothing, and chaperoned by three scantily dressed females of different species and a Kormak bodyguard. One of the hookers, a well-proportioned Terran with a beauty-mark on her left sizeable tit, looked at Jack with a bored and docile look. She eyed him shortly in a measuring way, then apparently decided he wasn’t worth an effort and turned her gaze back to the pit.

In the center of the fighting pit stood a red-skinned Tharxian, a notorious near-human species obsessed with hierarchy and bio-enhancement. The species was separated into three subspecies, and from the look of this particular specimen it was clear that this one was from the lowest subgroup. A Thurkian, sometimes derogatorily referred to as a ‘crimson‘ or a ‘Thurk‘.

The male Thurkian was heavy bound with muscles and had long dreadlocks falling in bundles around his humanoid face, which was marred from a life of constant struggle. His nude upper body looked as if cut from red granite, and was covered in ritualistic scarring. Thurkians were like the Skamiir known for their physical prowess and agility. But while the Skamiir were admired for their bravery and grit, the Thurkians were feared for their perseverance and brutality. The Thurkian was breathing heavy, a small trickle of black blood running from a cut above his eyebrow. Opposing him stood a tall light-blue Skamiir, breathing equally heavy. Drex.

His old friend cut an impressive figure in the pit. He was well-muscled and shredded, with essentially every muscle fiber clearly defined. His friend looked lean and mean. Yet his eyes looked sunken, as if sleep deprived, and Jack noticed he missed a finger on one of his hands.

Good thing he has four.

The two combatants circled each other and then charged for another round of mayhem. The crowd cheered as Drex showered his opponent in punches, his four arms working in perfect tandem. The strikes landed only superficial and glancing blows, and the Thurkian replied with his own cascade of punches. His strikes fell harder but were less precise than Drex’s. They traded punch after punch, ducking, and weaving. Fists connected with skulls and tightened muscles, as the two fighters sought to end one another. Drex connected with two straight punches that made the Thurkian stagger momentarily, and the crowd cheered. The Thurkian snarled in defiance and rammed his head into Drex chest sending them both tumbling to the ground, where they started wrestling.

The Akarian next to Jack wheezed with excitement and grabbed his shoulder “I have seen this crimson wrestle with Jungandian Swamp Beasts on Mulmasa, the Skamiir have already lost.”

“I’ll take that bet.” answered Jack sternly as his eyes followed the fighters grappling in the pit. He was confident in Drex’s ability to defeat any humanoid opponent in hand-to-hand combat.

The Akarian’s eyes glinted greedily and he smiled broadly.

“And how much are you willing to bet on the blue-skin?” asked the Akarian, looking Jack up and down appraisingly, obviously in doubt of the credit status of his new acquaintance.

“5.000?”

“How about we make it 10.000?” Jack answered coldly, turning his gaze from the fighters to the gambler.

The Akarian smiled broadened even more, unfettered by the bounty hunter’s cold eyes. The docile hooker looked up at Jack with a sudden spark of interest in her dusky gaze.

The Akarian’s elongated fingers danced swiftly across the interface of his gauntlet.

“10.000?” he asked enthusiastically.

Jack put the credit chit he had retrieved from the apartment to his gauntlet, confirming his credit status and locking in the wager.

The Akarian licked his teeth, and looked back at the fighters with excitement.

The two combatants were still grappling, both trying to gain the upper-hand with a series of reversals, strangulations and the occasional elbow to the face, that brought cheers from the onlookers.

“Enough of this!” Sounded a screeching voice over the speakers. Jack looked to a raised platform on which sat a small malformed creature on a dais protected by a Kinto and Kormak bodyguard wielding large axe-like polearms. This abominable creature was known as Kretch, and he was the master of the games.

“Time to break these boys up!” yelled Kretch, spittle cascading from his tiny razor-teethed mouth.

Then Jack saw them. Standing close to the bodyguards of Kretch, were a small handful of Terrans dressed in black. Yunakobē. He cursed under his breath.

A loud sound blared, and both fighters went to opposing side of the pit. Drex stretched his muscular arms and rolled his neck. Jack saw many new scars on his friend. A testament to his time in the pits. Both combatants breathed hard, sweat glistening on their exposed bodies.

“Seems our fighters has gotten a little fatigued. Let us give them some energy, shall we?” sputtered Kretch from his elevated seat. The repulsive little creature snickered and waved with his deformed hand, and in response a crane lowered two individuals into the pit, a Terran and a Kinto,

The Terran, a heavily tattooed man with an unkempt beard, went over to Drex, and after a short exchange, punched a syringe ungently into Drex’s sizeable neck muscles. Drex’s dark pupils widened, and his muscles flexed, and the veins in his body became clearly visibly for a few seconds as if fluorescent light went through them. A reaction one only saw from a large injection of Neuroamph. The strong stimulant washed away fatigue and pain, like dew under a burning sun.

When the two was done injecting Neuroamph they were hoisted from the pit. As soon as they set foot off the crane, the sound blared again and the two fighters crashed into each other once again, spurred on to bloodshed by their drug-induced strength. This time they fought more carelessly and with a brutality that tossed caution to the wind.

The small repulsive creature howled with glee, rotating in his seat as he grandiosely declared “Today we have a little pit surprise for our dedicated fans!”

A loud metallic banging noise was heard within the pit, and Kretch paused for dramatic effect. The two fighters stopped as well, their pupils wide and their breathing elevated from the drugs in their systems.

“I introduce to you,”. Another pause. “The Shreeeeeedder!” Kretch declared excited, as a metal hatch was raised.

From the darkness within, a grotesque creature many times the size of Drex and the Thurkian, emerged. The sounds of the creature’s ragged steps and rustling chains, seemed enhanced as the crowds had grown eerily silent.

The chained monstrosity roared; its wide maw filled with syringe like fangs. Its arms were long and bound in sinewy muscle. One hand was an elongated claw-like hand, while the other arm ended in a grotesque slicing blade made of sharpened bone. Jack found it unlikely that nature itself had created this terrifying creature. It was more likely some failed bio-engineered experiment. Or successful, depending on your outlook.

The silence was broken as people started cheering again, invigorated by the sudden change of events. As if on cue, the creature darted forward towards the fighting pair. Rather than moving in unison the Thurkian rammed his elbow into Drex’s unexpected chin making him stagger. The creature responded immediately, lunging forward and shredding the stale air with its mismatched arms, while releasing an unnatural guttural screech, that sent cold shivers down Jack’s spine.

Fool. They should work together...

Drex, caught off-guard from the sucker punch, displayed unnatural agility as he twisted and sprang, almost completely evading the creature’s ferocious assault. Only the tips of its sharp claws found it’s mark, cutting his chest superficially, resulting in just small trickles of blood.

As the creature turned for another assault, Drex grabbed one of the broken chains on the beast and jerked it free. In that, instant the Thurkian darted forward, trying to get an advantage on the monstrosity, but he lacked the speed of Drex, and the creature caught him with the clawed hand.

Closing its powerful elongated claws around his throat, the beast lifted him off the ground.

The Thurkian tried to pry open the grip of the beast, but to no avail. Then the beast screeched and pushed its sharp bone blade through the abdomen of its prey. The Thurkian roared in defiance and pain, as his stomach was sliced open and his entrails spilled on the floor. As his disemboweled carcass was dropped to the ground, the crowd cheered ferociously.

Drex did not hesitate while the beast finished his red-skinned opponent. Using his momentum and agility, Drex skittered up the wall of the pit in a display of dazzling acrobatics and grabbed a metal spike with two of his four hands. Swaying back and forth, he successfully yanked it free. He landed hard on the metal floor of the pit, but weathered the fall by going into a forward roll.

The dead Thurkian lay on the metal floor, with his innards scattered in a gory mess. The creature paid the dead no heed, and instead circled and approached Drex slowly, baring its razor-sharp fangs, and letting its clawed hand run across the metallic floor. The beast was in no hurry with its next attack, proving that it possessed some kind of animalistic intelligence. Jack could see no eyes on the beast, so he was unsure if it acted on sight, smell or some other sense.

Drex wielded the spike in two hands, and the broken chain he had jerked free from the beast in the two others, like a whip. Drex backed away and, carefully placing his feet, traced a semi-circle. By slowing and quickening his movements he attempted to distract the thing, making it difficult for the creature to find an opening to pounce on.

Jack knew that if the beast assaulted, Drex had only one chance to kill it before he would be ripped apart. Suddenly, a tiny twitch and tensing of the beast, obscure to anyone but those with the sharpest eyes, the monster prepared to leap forward. Drex saw it and reacted just as the beast burst into motion, whipping the chain across the beast’s deformed body.

As the monster thrashed forward Drex sidestepped and struck the creature with the spike.

The beast screeched and rammed into the steel structure built along the edges of the pit. It swayed from the impact with a screeching sound, and a few of the decorative skulls fell into the pit where they shattered against the metal floor.

The creature turned quickly and pounced on Drex once again, but Drex rolled forward, diving in between the creature’s legs, tightening the chain around its right leg as he rolled past. As he was about to rise, the creature struck him with the clawed hand, and he fell on his back.

With panicked movements, Drex skittered backwards.

The creature screeched in victory and stormed forward, spurred on by its killer instinct and the coming bloodshed. The crowds cheered wildly. The chain roped around its deformed leg pulled at the structure, and Jack discovered Drex had fastened it to the steel structure of the pit. He had leashed the beast like a dog. The chain groaned and strained from the onslaught of the monster, and the metal structure swayed. Then the heavy chain snapped from the force of the creature’s bestial charge, and the metal links scattered everywhere.

Fuck, this is it. He’s dead.

Drex was on his feet again, but it was impossible for him to escape the fury of the grotesque monster.

Then suddenly, the whole structure started to collapse. With a piercing dreadful screech, the metal frame along with its many decorations dethatched itself, and plummeted downwards, bombarding the pit with metal spikes, skulls, and shrapnel.

The beast roared as sharp metal spikes punctured and ripped its pallid flesh and nailed it to the metal floor. Jack’s hope grew, as he saw the beast unable to move, and Drex picking up an old metal blade.

The abomination twisted and turned, and through sheer bestial fury, it ripped itself free from the metal spikes with a shredding sound. The abomination made one last frenzied pounce towards Drex, as it spilled seemingly non-vital organs onto the floor of the pit.

Drex dove to the side in an agile roll just as the frenzied monster ran past, it’s clawed hand and toothy maw finding no target.

Then the creature slumped to the ground, with a weakened roar. And with a final spasm and shudder the monster laid still. Expired in a pool of its own blood and entrails.

Drex lifted his arms and roared in victory to thunderous applause from the crowds.

Small chants of ‘Drex, Drex, Drex, ‘ could be heard from the crowd as the fatigued Skamiir fighter exited the pit. Relief washed over Jack, like cool water on a hot summer’s day.

The Akarian next to Jack was excited and livid until he realized that Jack had won the bet. Then he turned red-faced and looked at Jack with froth in the corners of his mouth “The Skamiir did not defeat the Thurkian, that monstrosity did!”

Jack shrugged, unable to keep a small smirk from his face” I’m sure the masters of the games will disagree, do you want me to call someone over?” he asked, raising his hand in direction of the masters of the game.

The Akarian peered nervously towards the group of crimson-clad and masked individuals charged with keeping the games fair and honest. Within the pits, these individuals had full authority to deem a wager legitimate or not, and mete out any punishment for breaking the rules of the pit. More than a few unlucky gamblers had ended their existence at the hands of these jurors and executioners.

After a short pause, the Akarian reluctantly made the transfer. In the same instance, Jack saw the Yunakobē men disappear into the crowd. Jack set into motion quickly and didn’t catch the Akarian’s last gloomy remark.

He half-ran through the chanting crowds towards the fighter quarters. He would have to hurry to get to Drex before the Yunakobē.

Pushing his way through the dispersing crowds, going to collect their winnings or drink away the memory of their losses, Jack quickly reached the stairs leading to the quarters of the fighters.

A large Kormak stood as security by a staircase leading to the fighters’ quarters, but he was busy being buttered up by a youthful-looking Zhemerian guy, dressed in clothing so tight that if he breathed in, it might rupture by the seams. His slender prehensile tail stroked the heavyset Kormak’s arm bulging with muscle, and the two paid Jack no heed as he passed them silently.

He sprang down the stairs and walked quickly through the fighter’s quarters trying not to garner unnecessary attention. The fighters’ quarters were a literal maze, filled with scores of rooms and filled with fighters surrounded by their groupies and hangarounds. Jack grabbed the arm of a pretty and petite Akarian girl, and asked as discretely as possible for Drex, while pressing some money into her hand. The girl looked at him surprised, but after eyeing the money she pointed down the hall and told him which room.

Jack continued in quick strides towards the room, his eyes scanning for the Yunakobē. Reaching a solitary room that the girl had pointed out, Jack could see Drex’s muscular back as he was packing some bloodied clothes into a duffel bag. Jack entered the dark and dank room, which was only lit by a single light strip, leaving half the diameter of the room in shadow. As he entered Drex spoke without turning to him.

“I’m not interested in joining any crews or helping you collect a debt owed, neither do I have time for offers about private fights or private sex encounters,” Drex said still not turning “I don’t care what you are paying.” His voice was raw and tired.

“How about time for old friends?” asked Jack, unable to keep the warmth from emanating from his voice.

Drex spun around and looked at Jack with surprise. Then his mouth formed into a great smile and he rushed over.

“Jack! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

They both put their hands on each other’s shoulders and put their foreheads together, the way of greeting friends among the Skamiir.

“Some Nova Hellions came for you some months back.” spoke Drex, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

“What did you do?”

“I wasn’t home, but my wives were.”

“And what did they do then?”

“What do you think? They broke them and sent them scattering like whimpering hounds.” He laughed. A booming and warm laughter, that Jack realized he had missed.

He smiled, and nodded thankfully, then spoke with urgency. “I am sorry my friend but we do not have time, the Yunakobē are here. I know about the debt.” Shame crossed Drex’s face and his expression darkened.

“Join me on the hunts again, and let’s make some money.” Urged Jack, shaking his friend by the shoulders “Pay back the Yunakobē, take Jithara and Kithara away from here. Back to Thonria or anywhere else than here.”

He could see a spark in Drex’s eyes as he spoke, but it was quickly snuffed out, and then he shook his head. He looked tired and beaten. For the first time, Jack could see how much of a toll the last three years had taken on the proud Skamiir. He looked a decade older. And I thought I was burned out.

“My wives Jack.”

“Your wives already signed off on it. Fuck the pits, let’s return to the good old days. The old adventures, the old money.”

Drex hesitated, looking at Jack intently to ascertain whether he was speaking the truth or not.

Jack nodded for emphasis “It’s all good at home my friend, and I really need you for the next job.”

Drex stood for a while digesting it, and Jack glanced nervously at the door, expecting armed men to storm in at any second. Then Drex nodded, a smile forming on his lips.

“Of course I will join you my friend!” He boomed.

“Perfect” Jack exclaimed excited, slapping the large Skamiir on the shoulder “Then let us leave before...”