Balalaika...

​Balalaika...

​Balalaika...

​Do you hear that?

​That is the sound of chaos. That is the sound of the universe laughing at us.

Or maybe…

It is just the sound of dogun-dogun so fast that it has decided to start its own heavy metal band.

​Hey, you!

​Yes, I am talking to you.

Look up!

No, not at your ceiling. Look up at the sky in your imagination. Do you see it? That massive fleet of red ships descending upon the moon?

​They are crashing the wedding.

​Specifically, they are crashing Ranyan's wedding.

​Rude, right?

​We are standing here on the lunar surface, dressed in our fancy clothes, surrounded by half-eaten cupcakes and terrified guests, while the Krall swarm the atmosphere like angry bees looking for a picnic to ruin.

Most people would be screaming. Most people would be running to the nearest shuttle and praying to whatever deity they believe in.

​But I am not like most people. I am Arala.. you can call me, Private.

​And I am not worried.

​Why?

​Because look at us. Look at Explorer 7. We are not the same Melitos we were two years ago. We do not need to wait for Ranyan to drag us naked into a bedroom, then fill our purupin with his gegeru fluid to save the world anymore.

We have evolved. We have upgraded.

​We have the Mugururu!

​"Private! Focus!" Vice shouts from my left.

​She is still wearing her white wedding gown, but the skirt is torn to shreds to allow for movement. Her arms have transformed. The skin has peeled back to reveal the rotating barrels of the Gatling Rose. She looks like a terrifying, beautiful angel of death.

​"I am focusing, Vice!" I yell back, pointing at a group of Krall Troopers landing near the buffet table. "I am focusing on saving the pudding!"

​"Forget the pudding!" Chef screams.

​Chef is running past me, her hands engulfed in blue flames. She is wearing a bridesmaid dress that is already singed at the edges.

​"Tonix! Freeze them!" Chef shouted.

​"On it!" Navi slides across the lunar grass, ice spreading from her fingertips. "Don't melt my ice this time, Gin!"

​"It is called thermal shock, Tonix! Learn some science!"

​Fire and ice collide with the Krall Troopers.

The aliens screech as their armor shatters from the sudden temperature change. It is a beautiful sight. A symphony of destruction played by my hama-hama family.

​I look around. The battle is everywhere.

​There are Vipers slithering between the tables, knocking over the champagne towers. There are Centaurs galloping through the flower arrangements, their heavy hooves crushing the roses.

There are Butterfly types flapping their wings above us, dropping toxic dust onto the guests.

​"Stealth!" Vice barks. "Protect the civilians!"

​"Wonderwall!"

​Yeah…

That's Gap.

Or Stealth as we call her, but I like to call her Gagapi, slams her hands onto the ground.

Massive stone walls erupt from the lunar soil, surrounding the terrified guests and blocking the toxic dust. She looks so cool. Even though she is shaking a little, her walls are solid.

​And then there is Mommy.

​She is standing near the fountain, her rabbit ears twitching. She looks calm. Too calm. She sets her drink down on a passing robot waiter with a sigh.

​"Well," Mommy says, smoothing her dress, "I guess the wedding party is over."

​She raises her hand. The gravity around a squad of Locust Krall shifts instantly. They slam into the ground, crushed by their own weight.

​See? We are strong.

​"Prof!" Vice yells, firing a barrage of bullets into a Centaur's chest. "Status report! The enemy numbers are increasing!"

​Prof is standing behind a barrier of her own clones. She isn't fighting. She is typing on her datapad, her face illuminated by the holographic display.

​"The statistical probability of being overrun is rising, Vice," Prof states calmly. She adjusts her glasses. "However, the combat efficiency of the GX-778-C serum is currently holding at ninety-eight percent."

​"The what?" I ask, blinking. "The Gee-Ex... Seven... Seven... Eight... Cee?"

​"It is a simple alphanumeric designation, Private," Prof sighs, shooting a shadow bolt from her clone's hand to decapitate a Viper.

​"It is too hard to say!" I complain. "Just call it Mugururu! It sounds cuter!"

​"It is not cute," Prof counters. "It is a concentrated bio-energy extract derived from the Captain's Queen energy. It allows us to access Melios without the prerequisite of the Felt act."

​"Mugururu!" I insist.

​I look at Ranyan.

​He is standing in the center of the chaos. He looks... bored.

​He is wearing his tuxedo, but the jacket is gone, and his sleeves are rolled up. He is watching the S-Rank Inquors, including our scary Papa, Liquida Quarso, tearing through the Krall lines.

Papa uses a shotgun the size of a cannon, turning aliens into purple mist.

​"Hey, Ranyan!" I shout, waving my hand. "Are you going to help? Or are you just going to model?"

​Ranyan turns to me.

He grins. It is that goofy, lopsided grin that makes me want to hug him and punch him at the same time.

​"I am waiting for the main course, Arala," he says, winking.

​And…

Then I see it.

​The ground shakes. The artificial gravity generators whine in protest. A shadow falls over the wedding venue.

​It is a Gyra.

​A massive, living troop transport. It looks like a giant, rotting whale made of bone and hate. It crashes down near the altar, crushing the wedding arch.

​"Okay," Ranyan says, cracking his knuckles. "That is big."

​"I got this!" I scream.

​I ran forward.

I can feel the energy coursing through my veins. The Mugururu. It is hot. It feels like Ranyan is hugging me from the inside.

​"Mech Titan!"

​The metal materializes around me. Giant, shiny, beautiful metal. It forms a seven-meter tall robot. I am in the cockpit. I am the pilot. I am the giant now.

​"Take this, you ugly meatball!"

​I swing the Titan's fist. It connects with Gyra's face... umm… do they have faces? It connects with the front part. The impact sends a shockwave through the lunar dust. The Gyra screeches, stumbling back.

​But it doesn't fall.

​It opens its mouth. Hundreds of new Krall pour out.

​"There are too many!" Xecta cries out from behind me. She is using her Remido light to heal a wounded Inquor, but she looks pale. "My energy reserves are dropping!"

​"Hold the line!" Vice orders, though I can hear the strain in her voice. Her Gatling guns are spinning slower. "We cannot let them reach the shuttle!"

​We are pushing back, but they are endless. It is a tide of red skin and claws.

​I punch a Centaur, sending it flying into orbit. But three more take its place.

​"This is getting annoying," Ranyan sighs.

​He reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a small, glass vial. Inside, a red liquid swirls. It glows. It looks like liquid danger.

​That Mugururu!

​"Prof," Ranyan calls out. "Is the batch stable?"

​"The stability is questionable," Prof replies, creating another clone to take a hit for her. "But like what I said, it will trigger the transformation without the mental degradation."

​"Good enough for rock and roll," Ranyan says.

​He pops the cork. He drinks it in one gulp.

​I watch him. You should watch him too. This is the best part.

​Ranyan shudders. He drops to his knees. His tuxedo shirt rips apart at the seams.

​His black hair... it starts to bleed red. It grows, cascading down his back like a waterfall of blood. His shoulders slim down. His hips flare out.

​He stands up.

Nope…

​She stands up.

​Queen Form.

​Oh my God. Ranyan looks so... sexy.

​She has crimson skin now. A long, monkey-like tail whips behind her, cracking the air. Her eyes are vertical slits, glowing with a golden light that is brighter than the stars. She radiates power. It is terrifying. It is beautiful. It makes my stomach do the giga-giga flips, and my purupin so confused.

​"Hey!" Queen Ranyan shouts. Her voice is layered, like two people speaking at once.

A man and a woman. A hero and a monster.

​Every Krall on the battlefield freezes. They look at her. They smell her.

​She is the Alpha.

​"Get off my lawn," Ranyan growls.

​She pulls her fist back. The air distorts around her hand. It is not just strength. It is authority.

​She punches the air.

​A shockwave of red energy erupts from her fist. It tears through the vacuum. It hits the Gyra. It hits the swarm.

​Silence.

​Then... boom!

​The Gyra disintegrates. The Krall Troopers are vaporized. The Vipers turn to ash. In one single second, the entire invasion force is wiped out.

​Ranyan stands there, smoke rising from her knuckles. She flips her hair back. It is the coolest thing I have ever seen.

​Then, she turns around.

​She looks at me. She looks at Vice.

And then...

​She looks past us.

​She looks right at you.

​Yes, you!

​Ranyan winks. Her slit pupil dilates.

​"Did you like that?" she asks, breaking the fourth wall like it is made of cheap glass. "Pretty intense, right?"

​I climb out of my Mech Titan. I ran over to her.

​"Ranyan!" I cheer. "That was amazing! You were all like... woosh! And they were all like... splat!"

​"I try my best, Arala," Ranyan says, her voice returning to normal as the red fades from her skin. She starts to shrink back into her male form. "But we have to be careful."

​"Why?" I ask.

​"Because," Ranyan says, pointing at the sky where the debris is still falling. "It’s going to be different."

​"Different how?" Vice asks, walking over. Her wedding dress is ruined, but she still looks like a queen.

​"Less... sticky," Ranyan grins. "We are aiming for a wider audience, ladies. PG-13. No more clak-clak, in weird places. No more flying fluids. No more smut. Just pure, wholesome, high-stakes violence and emotional drama."

​"Hopefully," I add, looking at you. "But between you and me? I think we are still going to be a little weird. We are Explorer 7, after all. Honestly, I want Ranyan to fill my purupin."

​Ranyan laughs. He is fully a man again. He wraps his arm around Vice. He ruffles my hair.

​"Exactly," he says. "We are the chaos."

​He looks at the horizon of the moon. The Earth hangs in the sky, big and blue and fragile.

​"Are you ready?" Ranyan asks us.

​"Ready for what?" Navi asks, limping over with Chef.

​"For the sequel," Ranyan says.

​He turns to you one last time. He points his finger right at your face.

​"Welcome to The Chaotic Fanfare Revised!"

​"This entire sequence is illogical garbage!"

​The shout echoed against the metallic walls of the laboratory. It was not a scream of fear but rather the sound of pure, unadulterated frustration.

​Raya, or Prof as the crew called her, slammed her hand onto the holographic desk.

The impact was enough to make her four identical clones standing around the room freeze instantly. They stood there like mannequins in a department store that had suddenly run out of budget, staring blankly at the original.

​This is how we start the story.

Two years have passed since the madness, and apparently, scientific rage is still the primary fuel source on the Xeca.

​On the other side of the room, sitting on a spinning chair with the grace of a man who owns the place, Ragia laughed.

​"You are persistent, Prof," Ragia said, spinning slightly to face the scientist. "Two years. It has been two years and you are still staring at that data like it owes you money.

“Have you not given up yet?"

​Raya adjusted her glasses. She waved a hand, dismissing the frozen clones who dissipated into shadows.

​"I do not give up, Capt," Raya replied, her voice sharp.

"I analyze. And the analysis of that event still bothers me. That Mars rice wine... that Ginjang... it acted as a complete biological reset button. To you, it was a miracle. To me? It feels like lazy writing. It feels like a Deus ex Machina."

​Ragia smirked.

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked good.

His black hair was messy in that calculated way, and he radiated the kind of energy that made you want to either salute him or punch him.

Usually both.

​"Maybe the universe just likes me, Prof," Ragia said.

​"The universe is indifferent," Raya countered, turning back to her screens. "However, the data is not.

“Look at this.” ​She pulled up a holographic chart.

It was a mess of jagged lines and red dots.

​"The effects of Ginjang," Raya pointed, her finger tracing a line. "The DNA sequence from the Krall Queen's fang I kept in stasis. The biological samples you collected during our skirmishes over the last twenty-four months.

“They are pieces of a puzzle, Capt. And every single piece points to the same location."

​"Mars," Ragia finished for her.

​"Precisely."

​Let me introduce you to the genius.

This is Raya Spielba. She is an Alumos, a race of tall, pale women from the Uranus colony. They are a fascinating species, evolved to be hyper-efficient. The most distinct feature of their biology is the Irita, a prehensile organ that allows them to...

​"Hey!" Ragia looked up.

He was looking directly at… me.

Yes, me. The one narrating this scene.

​"Cut it out," Ragia said, his golden eyes narrowing. "You are doing an info dump. And watch your mouth. Remember the new rules? This is a PG-13 story now. We are trying to get a movie deal here."

​My apologies.

I forgot myself. We are keeping it clean. No detailed anatomical lectures.

​Ragia turned his attention back to Raya, acting as if he hadn't just spoken to a disembodied voice. Raya blinked, looking around the empty room.

​"Who are you talking to, Capt?" Raya asked, her brow furrowing.

​"Nobody, Prof," Ragia shrugged. "Just a ghost in the machine. You were saying?"

​Raya shook her head, deciding to ignore her Captain's eccentricities. She tapped the screen again.

​"The data," Raya continued. "Every time I try to access the old archives from the Reagalus servers on Mars, I hit a wall. It is as if someone is scrubbing the files. The High Council is hiding something about the Krall Queen."

​"I smell something fishy," Ragia muttered. He stood up and walked over to the viewport, looking out at the swirling storms of Jupiter. "And I don't mean the smell of the mess hall on taco night. I mean Vexal."

​"Councilor Vexal," Raya noted. "He is from the Mer race. They are naturally secretive."

​"He is a slimy politician," Ragia corrected. "He knows something about that encryption you found. I am just waiting for him to slip up."

​Ragia turned away from the window.

He looked serious now. The playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the grim focus of a soldier.

​"How is the project coming along?" Ragia asked. "The Mug."

​"It is not called Mug," Raya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It is Serum GX-778-C. And stop calling it that in front of the crew.."

​"Arala called it Mugururu, and Mug… is the shorter," Ragia grinned. "So? The new stocks? Is it ready?"

​"Not yet." She walked over to a containment unit. "I need a fresh sample. I need the raw energy signature of your Queen Form to stabilize the new batch."

​Ragia nodded. He stretched his neck, cracking it to the side.

​"Alright," Ragia said. "But be quick. You know the drill. Without the Mug… or Ginjang, I can only hold the Queen Form for three minutes before it starts to eat my brain."

​"Three minutes is sufficient," Raya assured him. "Ready when you are."

​Ragia closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

​You could feel the air in the room change. It grew heavy. Static electricity danced along the metal surfaces.

​His shoulders slumped, then reshaped. His jaw softened. His black hair bled out, turning a violent, deep crimson.

​When Ragia opened his eyes, the gold was gone. In its place were vertical, reptilian slits.

​He stood there, a terrifyingly beautiful woman with red hair and eyes that promised destruction.

The Queen Form.

​Raya stepped forward with a scanner, her face a mask of concentration.

​"Energy output is optimal," Raya murmured. "Hold it right there."

​Ragia... or she... nodded. A smile played on her lips, but it wasn't a nice smile. It was a predator's smile.

​Then, the red alert klaxon screamed through the ship.

​The transformation reversed in seconds. The red hair faded back to black, the curves sharpened into hard angles, and Ragia stood there, panting, a man once more.

​"Duty calls," Ragia said.

​He didn't wait. He bolted for the door, Raya right on his heels.

​They burst into the command center. The room was bathed in the rhythmic pulse of the emergency lights.

​"Report!" Ragia barked as he reached the center of the room.

​Tonix spun her chair around. She looked calm, her fingers flying across her console, but her eyes were tight.

​"Contacts," Tonix announced. "Atmospheric entry. Sector 4. It looks like a Krall raiding party. Troopers and one Viper class."

​Ragia looked at the tactical map. He assessed the situation in a heartbeat.

​"Alright, listen up!" Ragia commanded. "We are going to welcome them to Jupiter. Navi, Chef, you are with me. We are the spearhead. I need Fire and Ice on the front lines."

​"On it," Gin said, already pulling a knife from her belt.

​"Aye, Capt!" Tonix nodded.

​"Prof," Ragia turned to Raya. "I need you on the high ridge. Use your Shadow Construct. I want clones with sniper configurations covering our blind spots."

​"Understood," Raya replied.

​"Stealth!" Ragia pointed to Gap, the quiet Mer girl in the corner. "You are on defense. If anything gets past us, you put up a wall. Nothing touches the colony."

​"Yes, Capt," Gap whispered, nodding.

​Ragia looked at the rest of the crew.

​"Iya, Arala, Shorty, Mira," Ragia said. "You are back up. Stay on the Xeca. Keep the engines hot and monitor the comms. If this is a trap, I need you ready to pull us out."

​"Boring," Arala pouted, crossing her arms. "I wanted to smash something."

​"Next time, Arala," Ragia promised.

​Iya walked up to him. She didn't care about the audience. She grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him down, planting a hard kiss on his lips.

​"Good luck," Iya whispered. "And don't do anything stupid."

​"I make no promises," Ragia grinned.

​The airlock hissed open. The wind of Jupiter roared outside, a chaotic symphony of gas and storms.

​Ragia, Gin, and Tonix stepped out onto the landing platform, with Gap and Raya trailing behind.

​The landscape of the colony was bleak.

Grey metal structures jutted out of the swirling orange mist. The gravity was heavy here, pressing down on them, but they moved with the ease of veterans.

​The battle began before they even cleared the ramp.

​Krall Troopers dropped from the sky, their red carapaces gleaming in the dim light. They screeched, raising their plasma rifles.

​"Chef! Light them up!" Ragia yelled.

​Gin threw her hands forward. A wave of blue fire erupted from her palms, engulfing the first wave of enemies.

​"Cooling them down!" Tonix shouted.

​She slammed her foot onto the ground. Ice spikes shot up, freezing the burning Krall in place, shattering them into thermal-shocked dust.

​Ragia charged.

He didn't use a weapon. He was the weapon. He punched a Trooper so hard its helmet crumpled like tin foil. He moved like a blur, a whirlwind of violence in the center of the storm.

​It was a majestic display of brutality. The way his muscles rippled under his jacket, the way the orange lightning of Jupiter framed his silhouette against the backdrop of an endless, swirling cosmos that whispered of ancient mysteries and...

​"Hey!" Ragia shouted, punching another Krall. "Narrator! I said no purple prose! Keep it punchy! We are fighting, not writing a poem!"

​Right. Sorry.

​They fought. It was messy.

​Raya's clones appeared on the ridges, dark silhouettes against the storm. They fired synchronized shots of shadow energy, picking off the stragglers.

Gap stood near the colony gates, raising massive stone walls whenever a stray shot came too close.

​Ragia grabbed the Viper class Krall by its tail. He spun it around and slammed it into the ground.

​"Is that all you got?" Ragia yelled at the sky.

​The enemies lay broken on the ground. The wind howled over the victors. It seemed like it was over.

​But then, the radio on Ragia's belt crackled to life.

​Static hissed, cutting through the silence of the aftermath.

​"Mayday... Mayday..."

​The voice was weak. Male.

​"This is... we are… heavy fire... engines critical..."

​Ragia froze. He looked up.

​Through the breaks in the heavy clouds, a massive shape was descending. It wasn't a Reagalus ship. It looked like the skeletal remains of a whale, twisted and dark.

​A Gyra.

​And the voice was coming from inside it.

​"Please..." a female voice joined the male on the radio, sobbing. "Help us..."

​”Inquor…” Ragia stared at the ghost ship hovering above them.

​"Well," Ragia whispered. "That complicates things."

​Complicated does not even begin to cover it.

​Finding a coin in your laundry is complicated.

Finding a massive, biological warship floating above a colony like a dead whale is a catastrophe waiting to happen.

​Ragia stared at the main screen.

The static from the transmission had cleared just enough to reveal a bio-signature code. It was faint. It was flickering like a candle in a hurricane.

But…

It was there.

​"Verify that ID," Ragia ordered. His voice was low.

​Tonix tapped her console. Her fingers moved fast.

​"Signature confirmed, Capt," Tonix said. She looked back over her shoulder. Her face was pale. "It is the Reinstall. The flagship of the Vixia VII squad."

​Ragia cursed under his breath.

​The room went silent.

​You might be wondering why everyone looks like they just saw a ghost. Well, they did.

​The Vixia VII squad was legendary.

Not because they were strong like Explorer 7, but because they vanished. Six months ago, they went on a patrol near the Saturn ring and never came back. Reagalus declared them KIA.

Killed in Action.

Gone.

​And their Inquor?

​"Lacrosse… Lacrosse Diesels," Ragia whispered. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the console. "Connect me to the source of that transmission. Now!"

​"Patching it through," Tonix said.

​The audio crackled. It sounded wet. Like someone was speaking through a mouthful of blood.

​"Xeca..." The voice was female. Trembling. "This is Velele. Melito of the Vixia VII. Please... is anyone there?"

​"This is Captain Ragia Quarso of the Xeca," Ragia replied. "We hear you, Velele. Status report."

​"Capt Quarso?" The voice sobbed. It was a sound of pure relief. "Oh thank God. We are... we are trapped. Deck four. The main cargo hold."

​"Is Lacrosse with you?" Ragia asked.

​"He is here," Velele whispered. "But... Capt... he is in bad shape. He lost… he lost… his legs."

​The air in the command center got heavy.

​Legs.

Gone.

Just like that.

​I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, “Just doing a Felt!”

​But…

It does not work like that.

​"We tried," Velele continued, her voice dropping to a terrified hush. "But he is too weak to initiate. And I... I am drained. We cannot perform the act. We cannot recharge. And we cannot move because..."

​She stopped.

​In the background of the transmission, there was a sound. A low, rhythmic fluttering. Like thousands of paper fans beating against the air.

​"Butterflies," Raya said. She was standing next to Ragia. Her face was illuminated by the blue light of the hologram. "They are dormant. If they wake up..."

​"They swarm," Ragia finished. "And they are venomous."

​Ragia stood up straight. He adjusted his jacket. He looked at the screen, then at his crew.

​"Alright," Ragia announced. "We are going in. Rescue mission. Standard search and extraction."

​"I will prepare the team," Iya said. "Full assault squad. We can blast a path through the hull."

​"Negative," Ragia shook his head. "No blasting. No loud noises. Those Butterflies are sleeping on a hair-trigger. If we wake them up, Lacrosse and Velele are dead before we even breach the door. We need to be quiet. Surgical."

​He turned to the scientist.

​"Prof," Ragia said. "You are with me. Just you."

​Raya froze. She adjusted her glasses. She looked at Ragia, then at the screen, then back at Ragia.

​"Capt," Raya said slowly. "I am experiencing a significant sensation of déjà vu."

​She was right.

​It was familiar. It was terrifyingly familiar.

​Let me explain it to you. Two years ago, back in the original records, there was an incident. Chapter Eight to be precise. Ragia and Raya went into a Gyra alone. Just the two of them. They tried to be sneaky. They tried to be heroes.

​And…

What happened?

​Ragia got stabbed through the heart. He almost died. It was the moment that started the whole mess with the red light and the transformation and the...

​"Hey!"

​Ragia looked up… right at me.

​"Narrator," Ragia growled. His golden eyes narrowed. "Stop bringing up old plot points. We are on a schedule here. Lacrosse is bleeding out."

​My apologies.

​I was just trying to give them context. You know, for the new readers who did not read the first book.

​"Focus on the mission," Ragia snapped. "I have a plan."

​"A plan?" Raya asked skeptically. "Does this plan involve you getting impaled by a Krall scout again?"

​"No," Ragia smirked. "This plan involves not being stupid. Stealth... is good at hiding, but her Wonderwall is too loud. Arala... is a walking earthquake.

“You are the only one who can scout ahead without a sound."

​"My clones," Raya realized.

​"Exactly," Ragia nodded. "Shadow Constructs. They don't make noise. You send them in. They find the path. We follow. Easy."

​"Statistically," Raya muttered, tapping her chin. "It is the most viable option. However, my emotional centers are registering a high level of anxiety."

​"Join the club," Ragia said. "Navi, bring us close. Match their rotation. We are jumping across."

​"Aye, Capt," Tonix said.

​Ragia looked at Iya. She looked worried. Her hand was gripping his arm tight.

​"I will be back," Ragia whispered to her. "Ten minutes. In and out."

​"You better," Iya replied. "Or… I am coming in there with the Gatling Rose and waking up every bug in that ship."

​Ragia kissed her forehead. Then he turned to Raya.

​"Ready, Prof?"

​"Ready is a strong word," Raya sighed. "But I am present."

​They headed to the airlock.

​The transition was smooth.

Xeca extended a docking tube, latching onto the side of the rotting, organic hull of the Gyra.

​The air inside the alien ship was cold. It smelled of ammonia and old blood. The walls were ribbed, pulsing faintly with a dying bioluminescence.

​"Quiet," Ragia whispered.

​They moved into the corridor. It was dark. Shadows stretched long and twisted against the floor.

​"Scouts out," Ragia signaled.

​Raya nodded. She closed her eyes.

​Three clones materialized from the darkness. They were silent. Ethereal. They moved forward, blending perfectly with the shadows of the ship.

​Ragia watched them go. He checked the blaster on his hip. He checked the vial of GX-778-C in his pocket.

​This was it.

​The sequel to the nightmare.