It wasn’t easy, carrying the comfort liaison down the hall while maintaining her focus. Something about the woman toyed with her senses, and Lora struggled to keep her composure. Even as pulse rifles lit up the dank passages, and bullets flew in the air, the combat veteran could barely keep her focus. 

      Generally speaking, at least in standard combat doctrine terms, security personnel on warships carried weapons not designed to damage the hull. Either these pirates didn’t get the memo, or the armor of the ship was simply untroubled by standard rounds. She felt jolt of muffled pain as a solid round grazed her shoulder pauldron, her armor withstanding the blow despite days of fighting. Another shudder ached her thigh, and she could hear the crack of hardened plastek. Warning icons lit up in the corner of her helmet, and Lora ignored the chime of armor breaching errors.

      The cracks in her armor let in fresh air from the hallways. It wasn’t just the septic clean air that stung her nostrils. There was a pungent odor leaking through the breaches of her war-gear. Suddenly, Lora felt light headed, each mouthful of air sent a tingle down her core all the way to her stomach.

      It was the way Journey smelled, Lora realized. The Comfort Liaison seemed to glisten with rich perfume, rather than reek of typical sweat. Lora recognized the signs of expensive flesh alterations when she saw it. She had heard of similar kinds of treatments being practiced in the shadier circuits of society. Often it was in red light districts that such medical procedures were practiced, and at an outrageous cost. 

      Lora wasn’t even sure what to make of the added naughty bits dangling from Journey’s torso. Seeing the additional breasts, Lora originally thought they had been grafted to the woman’s skin, but upon closer inspection she realized they were somehow natural growths.

      Few had the genetic wisdom to mould flesh like this, as if it were a work of art, the skin acting merely as clay. Regardless, the Comfort Liaison didn’t seem troubled by her body augmentations, in fact Journey seemed rather content about her situation.

      Time slowed, each hallway and corridor a battleground fueling her adrenaline, until finally reaching an enlarged hanger. The chamber was massive in scope, clearly designed for housing small frigates or light cruisers, and Lora couldn’t discern just how far it went. 

      She tried for a third time to reach out to her other mercenary crewman, none of whom had been responding to her hails. She gritted her teeth, there was no way she could wait for them.

      “Got to save the others,” Journey’s voice was a whisper, barely audible over the noise. She wasn’t referring to her mercenaries, but the other crew of the Star of Argon. Lora felt her concern, in truth she felt ashamed having to abandon them as well.

      “No time!” Lora held onto the woman tighter with her left arm, trusting her powered war suit to help carry the weight, while firing the last rounds of her pulse rifle into a group of soldiers, forcing them to take cover.

      Lora bolted left, then criss crossed behind giant barrels of chemicals for cover. She eyed a single route of escape, a frigate nestled in docking clamps a hundred yards away. It was one of several knife shaped vessels bearing the pirate’s brand on its forward prow. 

      It would suffice.

      An explosion rocked the ship, sending shockwaves through several layers of bulkheads. Power fluctuated, and the lights dimmed. Lora’s grav boots locked onto the floor, keeping her from floating in the air as artificial gravity died.

      Her comm unit fizzled into life for a single moment, the words that came through were abject syllables. To anyone listening it sounded like a butchered collection of sharp notes. To Lora, it was a simple battle kant trained by her unit during the war. It was developed for situations where encryption was impossible, so they could send simple signals back and forth. She couldn’t tell who sent it, but the tone of the message was clear.

      Too far gone, anyone left, flee.

      Lora wanted to scream. She wanted to unleash hell in a desperate last stand to make these pirates pay. Had there not been a way off the ship, she might’ve done so. Doctrine, training, and sheer will kept her from dropping the Comfort Liaison on the ground, and rushing the foe.

      Her hands were balled into fists. 

      “You’ll pay for this…” Lora swore a death oath to the pirates before making her move. Darkness clad her like a shroud, the failing gravity caused a cascade of system failures that aided in her escape.

      She had to kill two lanky guards near the frigates docking ramp, breaking there skulls with her armored fist, and crunching there shattered bodies under her boots. Once aboard, it was a quick jog to the bridge where she found a starving captain looking up at her with tear stricken eyes. His skin was unbearably pale, and his limbs wouldn’t stop shaking. 

      Evidently, the entire bridge was crewed by the second handed refuse of the pirate queens massive stockpiles of compliant slaves. They were leftovers, failures for genetic manipulation, and shaken after years of internment. Most were naked, and several bore scars from mismatched surgeries. They were menials with simple tasks, and simple allegiances. They were still waiting for orders, and were complaint to stronger wills. 

      Setting the Comfort Liaison on the floor next to the command chair, Lora stood over the captain and watched as he surrendered to her spiteful commands. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long. The vessel was already prepared for launch, hauling a newly acquired payload of slaves to market. It required only a few commands, and the engines were brought online. 

      Just as the frigate was about to depart from the Daughter of Silesia, Journey felt compelled to get on her feet, and tap against Lora’s armor. Seeing her rise, all the other slaves fell to the floor in supplication. Lora gasped seeing the loyalty shift from herself, to the alluring multi-breasted warrior standing naked amongst them. 

      Journey opened her eyes, and with a thick dab of drool dripping from the corner of her lips, she took the captains chair. She sat down gently, spreading her legs wide, and letting her breasts hang freely in the open air. Satisfied, the Comfort Liaison looked up toward Lora with a rather tense glare.

      “Strip.” the command somehow echoed in Lora’s skull.