The two thugs didn't have time to respond to Jaxon Rhylis. One of them, nervous, briefly turned his head towards a screen flashing to signal the approach of a new signal. A capsule, it seemed.
Jaxon watched closely, looking for any opening. When one of the operators took a step to get a closer look at the screen, Jaxon seized the moment. He leapt forward, grabbing the arm of one of the men and forcing him to drop his weapon with a cry of pain. The pistol spun in the air and landed in the captain's hands.
He fired two precise shots at the second operator, who collapsed heavily. The last enemy, disarmed and wounded, fell to his knees under Jaxon's impassive gaze.
At that moment, Paula Strix entered through the service door. She cautiously advanced through the maze of corridors, listening intently to the distant sounds of combat. Finally, she reached the control room, her weapon ready to fire. The doors opened to an unexpected scene: Jaxon, triumphant, keeping an enemy under control while the rest of the enemy crew lay inert on the floor.
Jaxon turned his head towards Paula, a wary glint in his eyes. — Paula?
— Jaxon. Her voice was as cold as her gaze. This weapon must be neutralized before they can use it.
Jaxon nodded.
— The launch codes are still active. But we need to find a way to sabotage the cannon.
They worked together to lock down the control panel, isolating the power circuits. With Jaxon's knowledge of the system and Paula's technical precision, they disabled each section of the mechanism, gradually shutting down the cannon until it finally went still. The work was done in tense silence, with every word exchanged purely functional. A final impulse cut the main power circuit, and the threat seemed finally dissipated.
As the alarms faded into a whine, Paula and Jaxon exchanged a cold glance. They knew the battle wasn't over yet, but for now, the weapon was out of the mercenaries' reach. Silence fell over the dome, restored to its fragile peace.
— Now that we've disabled your weapon, you're going to tell me who you are, said Paula, pointing her gun at the last mercenary.
The bound mercenary looked up at Paula, a defiant glint in his eyes despite his disadvantageous position. He managed a mocking smile, trying to hide his nervousness.
— You really think you've won? he sneered with a bitter laugh. You've only delayed the inevitable.
Paula tightened her grip on her weapon, her eyes piercing into the mercenary.
— I won't ask again. Who are you and who do you work for?
The mercenary met her gaze, but the tense silence was heavy with unspoken words. Jaxon stepped forward, his face expressionless.
— Talk, or you might never leave this dome, he said in a harsh tone.
The man sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.
— We work for an organization you can't comprehend, he began. An organization with resources and influence far beyond what you can imagine. Our mission was to take over your mining operations and set up our defenses.
Paula tightened her grip on her weapon, her eyes boring into the mercenary.
— And how did a handful of mercenaries manage to destroy two garrisons of ten ships each and decimate part of the other garrisons? And the workers? Where are they?
The mercenary smiled, a triumphant glint in his eyes.
— There may be only three of us here, but we're equipped with technology far beyond what you can imagine. Our weapons and personal defenses far surpass your conventional capabilities. As for the workers, they've been relocated and are our prisoners.
Jaxon stepped forward, his gaze hardening.
— Relocated? Where? And how did you take control of the operations without destroying them?
The man shrugged as much as his bonds allowed.
— Our superiors had a precise plan. We used teleportation emitters to evacuate the workers safely, sending them to a secret location. Our goal wasn't to destroy the infrastructure but to take it intact for our own use. That's why you see no signs of combat here.
Paula exchanged a perplexed look with Jaxon, the mention of teleportation adding a new dimension to their mission.
— Teleportation? You're saying you moved hundreds of people without leaving a trace?
The mercenary nodded, a satisfied smile on his lips.
— Exactly. Our technology allows us to do things you can't even imagine. That's how we were able to eliminate your forces and take control without alarming the rest of your defenses.
Jaxon clenched his fists, trying to contain his frustration.
— What does your organization plan to do with these operations?
The mercenary took a deep breath before answering, his tone becoming darker.
— They'll serve as an advanced base for our future operations. What you've seen here is just the beginning. Our organization has far bigger plans than you can conceive.
Paula lowered her weapon slightly, thinking quickly. She knew they wouldn't get any more information.
— We need to find those workers and understand the extent of this threat. But first, we need to secure this site.
They set to work, checking every corner of the dome to ensure there was no immediate danger. The mercenary, still bound, watched them in silence, a glint of defiance mixed with curiosity in his eyes.
As they secured the last sections of the dome, a warning sound echoed, followed by Nate's voice through their headsets.
— Captain, multiple energy signatures detected, approaching rapidly. Enemy reinforcements, ten minutes away.
Paula and Jaxon exchanged a grave look.
---
— The ship exploded! shouted an officer, his voice tearing through the tense silence of the bridge.
Captain Opal, dismayed, watched the bright flash on his radar. An intense, brilliant explosion that should have reduced the enemy dome to ashes. Yet, the dome remained intact, immobile, and indestructible, its metallic structures reflecting the detonation's light in a mocking gleam.
The crew's faces were frozen in astonishment. Their eyes wide with disbelief, their skin taut with tension. They knew their strike force had drastically diminished after the previous attacks. Captain Opal's cruiser was one of the few functional ships left in their decimated fleet. Its flanks were scarred from recent battles, and the deep rumble of its tired engines resonated through the hull.
Opal quickly assessed the situation, his sharp gaze sweeping over the control screens and blinking indicators. Ten enemy energy signatures were approaching, forming a squadron of pirate ships in rapid advance. Their tight and disciplined formation testified to their experience and determination to finish this.
— Captain, ten pirate ships approaching! announced the communications officer, his voice tinged with anxiety, his hands trembling on the controls. His words echoed in the heavy air of the bridge, amplifying the gravity of the situation.
Opal leaned on the edge of the dashboard, his face dark and pensive. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, reflected growing concern. The light from the screens danced on his tense features, adding a spectral dimension to his face.
— Prepare to retreat. We don't have enough strength to face such an armada, he ordered, his voice calm in contrast to the ambient agitation.
The cruiser accelerated, its engines roaring in response to the command, to retreat from the danger zone. It maneuvered around the lunar surface with almost desperate precision, trying to escape enemy radar. The few remaining ships struggled to follow, some emitting plumes of black smoke, testaments to their critical state. Their damaged hulls and failing systems struggled to stay on course.
His meager garrison, a handful of ships with damaged hulls and exhausted crews, was followed by Rivers' contingent. Rivers' ship, though battered, advanced with fierce determination. The sparks from its failing engines created luminous trails in the void of space, symbols of their fierce struggle for survival.
Captain Opal clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the lunar horizon. The gray dust of the lunar surface rose gently, forming an ethereal veil around the fleeing ships. The cruiser weaved between craters and rocks, taking advantage of the terrain's irregularities to mask its trajectory. Every second gained represented a chance for survival, a tenuous hope of finding a way out of this desperate situation.
The radio silence was almost palpable, every crew member holding their breath, waiting for the signal that would indicate their secured position or, worse, the end of their frantic escape. Heartbeats matched the rhythm of silent alerts, and the exchanged glances bore the weight of their collective determination.
As the cruiser reached the dark side of the moon, a moment of respite seemed to unfold. The lunar shadow offered a welcome cover, a temporary haven away from the pirates' scrutinizing eyes. But Opal knew this tranquility was an illusion. The real ordeal was just beginning.