Along the Space-ward Front

[Altanis]

For what felt like the thousandth time since escaping the underground complex, Atlantis’s vision wavered and blurred before her as it threatened to lapse back into darkness again. She lifted a hand to rub at her eyes, grimacing in venomous frustration at her predicament. Much as she might wish to tell herself otherwise, the injuries she had sustained down there were…not insignificant. They would not kill her, that much she knew with deepest certainty, but they would not make her life easy for some time yet.

In the meantime, she could at least force herself to keep moving and functioning. Broken and battered as her body might have been, her mind was still very much intact and strong as ever, and could psychically manipulate her body even in the state it was in, when she was awake. The pain was…troubling, to say the least, and had put her down more than once. It was a minor inconvenience as far as such things went, but—

“...ma’am? Forgive the interruption, but…”

A voice suddenly cut into her thoughts, shattering her illusion of peace and dragging her back to reality. With more effort than she would ever care to let on, her eyes slowly opened again. Ah…yes… One of the newly-signed on crew for the Basilisk. It was barely running as it was; they’d barely had time to do the most basic of systems checks to ensure base level operation, let alone get any of its less than strictly necessary systems online, but the ship was…finally active, in spite of all odds.

In hindsight, it may have been wise to begin planning for ensuring its operative state some time ago, just in case of an event like this. Still…it was not the fault of the crew. They were lacking in proper equipment just as much as Altanis was herself lacking in time.

“What is it?” she finally ventured to speak, keeping the twin edges of exhaustion and unrelenting fury carefully out of her tone.

“We…intercepted some communications that might be of interest to you, ma’am,” the crewman answered quickly, as she tapped at a small holoscreen on the wrist of her suit. “It’s about the Unmaking. They’re organizing a large-scale strike against it on Cevanti.” A moment later, a small holo-display of an audio waveform flashed to life above her wrist, the broadcast message from the tomb world playing aloud.

“....I’ve no interest in joining any military,” Altanis hissed, her eyes narrowing to razor-thin slits. “...however…” She clenched her jaw tightly, carefully considering her next words. “This could be an…opportunity.” Even in her condition, she could be there to observe the fighting. Perhaps take part in some small measure, to gain a foothold of another potential future alliance while striking a blow against her most hated foe. “How long will it take to make the trip to this…Cevanti?”

“If we were fully operational…” The crewman trailed off, plotting an estimated course on her suit’s wrist-mounted computer. “...a matter of hours, maybe a day of standard time, ma’am. As we are now though…quite a bit longer. We’d need to work around the engines not working and manage to get the hyderdrive online to—”

“Spare me the details, for the moment…” Altanis interrupted, shaking her head. “Just get things underway. I want us on our way there.” Her eyes drifted closed again. “...have whatever readily available and pertinent information about this world we will be going to forwarded to my quarters. I wish to be…informed before arrival.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The crewman offered a crisp salute that immediately transitioned into a bow.

“Ah, yes, and…” Altanis’s lips briefly twisted into an ugly grimace, as she seemed to fight over her next words. “....see to it that you send out some…acquisition requests. War of any kind is good for business; there are bound to be some enterprising individuals who may be able to assist with getting our…situation in better order.”

“As you wish, ma’am.” The crewman nodded, and swiftly set to making some notes in her wristcom.

“....one last thing, before you are excused.” Altanis cracked one eye open. “See to it that Galand’s remains are prepared for transport. He has enjoyed a long enough nap, I think…it’s time to wake him up again.”

 

[Ridley]

“Lord Ridley, we have another communications from Mesa Roja that might… pique your interest?”

Ensign Ratt’s statement caused Ridley to grind his teeth. “I’ve had one delay, I will not suffer another!” The Great drake spat from his chair, burning spittle striking the neosteel deck before him with a loud splatter.

A janitorial crew member with feline features was quick to launch into the throne room, swiffer in hand and with a furious salute. Looking down to Ridley’s discharge, and seeing the pool of drool, the cat-man gave a sigh of relief, putting a hand through his whiskers as he

“Oh, it’s just saliva this time. Thank godcat.” The exhausted cleaner gasped out, placing a hand on his black, hand-pressed uniform before mopping it up, utterly ignored by the crew.

“...But Lord Ridley! This signal is different!” Ratt insisted, before bringing up a viewscreen showing various frequencies. “It comes from a source you’ve been monitoring for some time now.”

The Wyrm shifted forward on his throne at the statement, as his glare sharpened.

“Continue.”

Ratt, the faithful pirate he was, showed a set of pattern matches. “The patterns here match one of the signals I have been faithfully following since your original directive - to watch the movements of the helldivers. Of course, We still have no sign of The Slayer, Majin Buu’s whereabouts have been unknown since The Man in Red’s last little orgy… of Violence-”

First mate Jervix struck his head with a claw with a snarl of disgust for the entendre, laying back in his scorpion-shaped chair in dejected disappointment.

“-But Altanis has been someone I have caught wind of - quite busy on the deserts of Mesa Roja. And this matches her particular… presence.” Ratt replied, a grin slowly appearing across his face at the last syllable.

Ridley gave a short rumble - one that would be misconstrued as aggression by the average soldier, but was Ridley’s way of letting Ratt know to continue.

“She seems to be looking for assistance. Supplies, weapons… Materiel to combat the fade with.”

Ridley’s grumpy countenance lifted to a smug smirk, wings flapping out as Ratt’s words fell upon his ears.

“Well, if the vaunted Altanis seeks my aid…” Ridley spoke, his voice dripping of sarcasm. “We will offer full assistance… if her fragile pride will allow it.” The dragon replied, tongue flopping out as he leered directly for the screen.

The Wyvern’s crew went hard to work, as the ship prepared to go to warp.

“Alright, you slugs! Ratt, check ship traffic - if we’re making a surprise warp into Mesa Roja I want to hear every comm signal within 50 SPD’s of the ship. Wesp, Prep the ship for warp! Set a course with a stable loop! And tell engineering to optimize warp and sublight engines! There’s plenty of juicier targets for raiders right now - we’ll focus on speeding past ‘em!” Jervix barked, the first mate making things happen as

Ridley sat back in his chair as his first mate maintained his order, a low, rumbling growl as the Wyvern lurched into forward motion.

He was looking forward to his long-overdue meeting with the Demonic centauress. He had marked her just as he had marked every single helldiver among DA’s conquest tournament. While their actions had indirectly led to the cleansing of his unmaking… they had opposed Ridley, as well.

Now, he would be able to meet Altanis in person - and decide on whatever reward she may deserve from him, face to face.

 

[Ridley]

When Ridley had first docked with the Basilisk, in orbit above Mesa Roja’s discus, the old pirate was expecting the look of an embarrassed demonic half-equine with a sharp tongue and anger at having to work with the old Wyrm in the first place.

As he stepped aboard the blackened floors of the bay, and Altanis’s injuries were visible, Ridley’s expectations were somehow exceeded as the horse forced herself forward on pure psychic power, facing the Space Dragon with an expression that showed a mixture of haughtiness and hatred, as she saw the old Wyrm.

“Ridley.” The demon hissed, As the Dragon stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear, saliva falling from his maw and striking the deck of the ships.

“Just as injured as the last time I saw you. How… nostalgic..” The space pirate responded with veiled eyes.

“Spare me the mockery, Lizard. There is no army in the way of snapping your neck right now.” Altanis replied with a sharp look towards Ridley, her fierce look undercut by her ragged breath - concealed, unsuccessfully. The gravelly screech that Served for Ridley’s laughter seemed unphased by the threat.

“My ship has medical supplies of a sort. Healing energy. I will guide you to it myself.” Ridley responded, not losing his good humor in the slightest. “If you wish to threaten me with the unmaking so close, do it when you’re in good condition.”

Altanis raised an eyebrow. “And the payment?”

Ridley closed his eyes, revulsion coming through him as he considered his next words. “None will be necessary. I am about to touch down on Mesa Roja before making full warp-speed to Markov. I offer you supplies, a berth, Weapons, all at discounts beyond what the crossroads would otherwise offer.”

When he opened his eyes, Altanis looked thoughtful, deep in consideration. “...And what is the actual price for all of this?”

Ridley would look her straight in the eyes. “Doing your job, Helldiver.”

Altanis’s frown shifted into a knowing smile. “I see it now.” She replied, her arms crossed in a place of superiority. “...Revenge, then?”

Ridley blinked once, a slow, careful blink, as the humor left his face. “...Darkseid will die for his hubris.”

“For what he did to you.” Altanis replied, searching forward.

“With my tail spilling his organs across his blasphemous throne!” Ridley spat, flames puffing from his mouth, striking the floor of the Basilisk, and burning out slowly.

Altanis gave a smirk, a look of superiority… and something else. As though she had learned something, some secret that lent her power.

“...I believe that, yes, a partnership would be quite fine, Lord Ridley.” Altanis would say, holding up her hand as though to be guided. “Show me the way to your healers… and let us make haste to the battlefield. It appears as though our interests fully align.”

Ridley’s Glare returned, as he gave a hardly imperceptible nod.

“The Dreadnought!’s Warp drive is fully functioning. Have your men ready to join us aboard. It is your one opportunity to arrive to the battle on time.”
“I’ll organize my forces accordingly, Lord Ridley.”
Altanis replied, looking at him with expectation set in her eyes and determination in her jaw, looking for a specific answer.

“My general will have a logistics report ready shortly, Lady Altanis.” Ridley replied, his wings drawn in as the two walked. And like that, with a knowing glance between the two, a silent pact was formed.