Kinson opened his eyes, blinking. He looked around and found himself in an unfamiliar room. He stood slouched against a wall, surrounded by several other people, five in number. Each wore a motley array of body armor and clothing put together with no thought for style or conformity. His breath caught in his throat as he saw each wore a weapon of some sort strapped on their hip, back or thigh. Looking down at himself, Kinson was shocked to find himself garbed similarly.
"Where am I?" he muttered, rubbing his head.
"What's that, squirt?" one of the men, middle aged with a bushy beard, asked.
"Where is this?" Kinson asked, louder.
"What's up with you?" another man, this one slender, and wearing a gray coat, asked. "Did you have a stroke or something? We're on our way to the meeting, of course."
The bearded man frowned. "Perhaps we're walking into a trap, and the Marauders are using Psionics to confuse us."
"Shouldn' t be. We've had a nonaggression pact for several weeks now. Why would they betray us now? " the gray coat man said.
At this moment, another person entered from a side door. Kinson's heart beat faster upon seeing him. This man was obviously a protagonist figure. His every instinct screamed so. Wait, what was this, a book? Then it hit Kinson. He was in a deathdream.
He felt rather taken aback. This wasn't what had happened in the past. Before, he had simply merged his identity with theirs, as facilitated by the system. While the immersion was real, it all felt rather hazy and distant, and he saw from the protagonist's perspective. Here, however, it seemed he was actually in the deathdream, itself, as a character. Then that means…
The bearded man saluted sharply, as did the rest. Kinson tentatively raised his hand to his forehead, copying them.
"Captain! Kinson just told us he's not feeling well, and seems to be encountering some mental problems. He lost focus just now, and forgot where we were," bearded man said.
"Is that so?" the man, who was presumably the captain, said, "It seems like the Marauders have some nefarious purposes in mind. Whatever happened to honor among pirates?"
Kinson noted the irony, but filed away the information. It was his first time being a pirate, but he felt rather excited. But reality hit him as he remembered the deadly conclusion of a deathdream. Being a pirate was dangerous, and this captain inevitably ends up dead. What kind of captain dies before his crew? And how did the know his name? Putting away his questions, Kinson returned to the discussion.
"We'll just have to be prepared for them. Are you back to your right mind?" the captain asked Kinson.
"Almost, but I'm having trouble remembering small details, like names," Kinson said, frowning as though troubled. Inwardly, he gave himself a thumbs up for good acting.
"Well, call me Billy," the captain said with a smile.
Kinson started to nod, but froze as he noticed the chuckles of the men around him. He looked at the captain and raised an eyebrow, but didn't receive another response.
"We've got only a minute or two before contact, so get ready," the captain ordered. He then left the room, leaving his men to themselves.
Now that he had time, Kinson looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. As he had noticed before, he was on a starship. Surprisingly, he found himself looking out of a viewport, into the depths of space. It was a sight he hadn't seen for around ten years, since his escape from Mars. Countless stars glittered in the wide expanse, their beauty almost taking his breath away. Most noteworthy were the many asteroids surrounding their vessel. They moved by extremely quickly, passing around the ship with great frequency. Kinson couldn't help peering out the window to see if he could find their destination. Unfortunately, ahead looked the same as behind.
"Never seen space before?" one of the pirates chuckled.
"I'm sure I have. It just feels pretty novel right now," Kinson replied.
"Man, you've lived in space for years! It's been like 5, 10 years? Strange, I can't remember either… Anyway, how could you forget all that? Seems like we're up against some pretty messed up stuff," one of the men said. "I hope they only had enough juice to hit you."
"I think they would have hit the rest of us by now, if they could," the bearded man said.
As Kinson continued looking into space, he noticed a particularly large meteor ahead. It was far enough away he had trouble making out the many buglike blips circling it. Perhaps this was their destination. As they neared, he saw many small ships circling what appeared to be a metal base constructed within the meteor.
"We're coming up on it. Get ready for docking procedures." Kinson looked up as a mechanical voice echoed from the steel paneled ceiling.
"Here we go boys," the captain said, walking back into the room. "Let's move out."
Everyone got up and ready, Kinson no exception. He felt nervous, but not afraid. Whatever was in that asteroid couldn't be that bad, right? Feeling a little sore, he stretched, pulling his arms above his head. Then, he pulled out his gun, checking it out. The handgun was cold, and fit awkwardly in his hand. He placed it back in the hoster, and nodded confidently. Sure enough, he still knew nothing about guns.
With little discussion, the captain led the way through the door and into a small hallway. Kinson followed last, wanting to see what was ahead before he encountered anything. From the narrow hallway, they came up to a large steel door. The Captain stopped by a panel, waiting for something. Soon enough, the ship jolted. Kinson grabbed a handle on the wall and steadied himself.
"When we go in, don't bother engaging anyone in conversation. We're here strictly to discuss business, so I'll do the talking. If things get hairy, rush back to the ship and defend it until everyone gets there. Leave no man behind."
The captain pressed a few buttons on the console, and the door opened. A short hallway, made of steel and inlaid with small lights, connected their ship to the facility on the asteroid. Two armed guards stood inside the hallway, ready to escort their small party.
"Greetings, Captain Ashton, welcome to the Forward Camp. The other's are already assembled, and await your arrival," the woman on the left said.
She gestured down a nearby hallway, but Ashton just frowned.
"Others? This was only supposed to be a conference between us and Tarken."
Regardless of the circumstance, Kinson was glad to finally have the captain's name. Tarken sounded like an important name too.
Wordlessly, the captain shrugged and followed the two guards. The passage wound a gentle curve away from the ship, probably following the surface of the meteor. Small bright lights were spaced across the ceiling and air vents released recycled air back into the shafts. It smelled strongly of metal and chemicals.
After a few minutes of walking, the corridor came to an end with a small door on either side of the hallway.
"Here's the meeting room," the guard explained, pointing to the left hand door. Then, seeing Captain Ashton's curious look, sheepishly explained, "that one's the restroom, should you need it."
"How convenient. It seems you were planning ahead when you built this place," the captain wryly smiled.
The guard nodded, then opened the door. "Yes, sir. We'll leave you here for now. They're waiting."
Captain Ashton gave a curt nod, then walked into the conference room. The room's name was fairly pretentious compared to its contents. A large, although scuffed and scruffy, wooden table was the obvious center piece. At least 12 chairs were situated around it, all but 3 filled with hard looking men and women. Their various escorts lined the outside of the room, currently engaged in staring contests and knuckle cracking. They were mostly large, hairy men loaded with miscellaneous weaponry and retired military gear.
Immediately, a large burly man stared at them. "You've finally arrived, Ashton! Talk about the speed of snails. Oh, I should apologize. Snails don't deserve your bad rap."
He roared with laughter as the pirates around Kinson tightened their grips on their weapons. Captain Ashton grimaced, but ended up ignoring it. Kinson couldn't help but feel admiration for the man. Either he had super thick skin, or was a holiest saint.
Another man, dressed all in black, slapped the big man in the back of the head. "Knock it off," he scolded. Then, he frowned at Kinson's group. "Still, you're a little late. Take a seat, Ashton. You're cronies are welcome to join the others."
"Always a pleasure, Tarken," the captain replied, gesturing his men forward. Kinson joined the others, trying his best to look intimidating. Of course, it's hard for a semi scrawny youth barely 16 to look that intimidating. But points could be given for effort… probably.
"We'll resume our discussion on the state of the Alliance then," Tarken said. "Boron, continue."