Judging from the considerably increased number of pirates I encounter on my way back to my family, the lack of power has drawn them away from the promise of loot on our ship. The Red Baron has become a mess of pirates struggling their way toward the breaker room. None of them seem properly equipped to deal with the blackout, making them easy pickings for me. I dispatch a few as I go, shooting at legs and delivering blaster strikes to the backs of heads, and leave a trail of groaning or unconscious pirates that would make the twins proud. There’s a certain sense of satisfaction to besting fighters who could normally snap me like a toothpick. But after my last conquest elbows me in the face and very nearly manages to shoot me, I decide I’m done playing warrior for the day. I sneak past the next few I see, which is easy enough given how loud and clumsy they are.

I’ve made it to the mess hall by the time the world suddenly brightens, and duck beneath the nearest table just in time as a small group of beefy pirates run through. Once they’re gone, I slip off my goggles and find the ship lit in its usual pale yellow glow. They must have managed to turn the power back on, which means I better get the hell out of here before everyone I passed on the way comes back to find me. Heart thumping in my chest, ear throbbing in pain, I run for home.

In the next hallway, shouting and laser-fire reach my ears. I skid to a stop, but as I recognize Drom’s voice crying out, I sprint forward again.

When I round the corner, I find both twins cornered by Izra and another pirate. Pol’s shoulder is bloody and his posture hunched; he’s still on his feet but disarmed. Drom is on the floor beside him, her face crumpled in pain. A serrated spear of black Primus material, which must be a projectile shot from Izra’s gun, pierces through the meat of her calf.

Fear spiking through me, I open fire on the two pirates. The man goes down with a grunt, but Izra whirls to face me, raising her terrifying weapon. The Primus gun hums as it reloads a shot.

“Orion said he’d take care of you,” she growls.

“Orion’s bleeding out on the engine room floor,” I lie. Her eye widens. “That’s what he gets for being cocky. You better run if you wanna save him.”

My finger itches on the trigger, but I’d rather avoid further fighting if I can help it, especially with more pirates headed this way. Izra hesitates. But after a moment, she bends down to help up her companion and drags him down the corridor toward the engine room. We both keep our weapons trained on each other as she passes.