“I’m done here,” the rungar lifted his small hands in dismay, “I can’t find anything.”
“Captain, captain,” the evil vibe did not suit a high-pitched voice of the kja, “I think I can help.”
“All right,” the rugged and patched knight armor replied, “How exactly, I wonder?”
“This coat of arms”, the kja pointed at a strange symbol, “that’s of House Ayya, famous for their smuggling network. I think the vault should be somewhere in the engine compartment, in a turbine or something like that.”
“Well…” answered the captain and switched the communicator on, “Roon, take your thugs and turn the turbines upside down. Some of them must be fake ones.”
“Your word, captain,” said the shork, “Hey, people! We’ve got work to do.”
For half an hour the pirates destroyed cabins and compartments, grabbed anything of value from drawers, dead bodies, hidden cases and the most secret containers made of rare alloys, waiting for news from the engine room.
“Gentlemen!” the captain’s voice finally said, “It seems the bird-lady did not screw us over. Roon found the vault! Everyone to the engine room!”
The band responded with a roar of dozens of voices. Reiving from passenger cabins is one thing, but a transgalactic liner’s vault is something very different.
“Grooz,” the captain called the rungar, “You’re in charge of Kyna now and answer for her with your life.”
“And why the hell do I need her at all?” spat out the gremlin.
“Because I said so,” the human replied, barely squeezing his armor suit between the thick bulkheads.
“Hurrr,” roared the gremlin, “Let’s go, chicken. One wrong move and you’ll regret it.”
“We’ll see…” the exile of House Ayya smiled to herself, already planning how to steal the codes and get rid of the ugly little hacker.