The High Sanctum smelled of ozone and the Bishop's lingering, metallic incense. Kane stood on the observation deck, looking out at the thousand-mile curve of the Earth below. For the first time in months, he didn't feel like he was drowning. He felt like he was holding the ocean's leash.
"Sarge," Vance grunted, shoving a line of terrified prisoners into the hall.
These weren't the porcelain constructs. These were the "High-Men"—the Consortium's elite officers. They wore white silk uniforms, their skin pale and shimmering with bio-mods. They looked at Kane like he was a cockroach that had somehow learned to hold a sword.
"We found them in the Life-Support hub," Vance said, his iron fist resting on the head of a trembling female officer with four eyes. "They were trying to scuttle the oxygen scrubbers. Should I vent them?"
The officer looked up, her voice quivering with a refined arrogance. "You... you cannot fly this vessel. It requires a Tier-9 neural-harmony. Your 'pirate' brains will burn out in an hour."
Kane walked toward her. He didn't use his aura. He just leaned down, his face a foot from hers. He smelled like woodsmoke and old blood—smells the "High-Men" had forgotten.
"I've got a girl downstairs who hacked your Bishop's brain in ten minutes," Kane said softly. "But she's tired. And I've got a fleet of five thousand scavengers who don't know a 'Phase-Inductor' from a toaster."
He reached out and traced the gold embroidery on her shoulder.
"You have two choices," Kane continued. "Option one: You teach my people how to run this ship. You stay in your stations, you eat our rations, and you keep us moving."
"And option two?" she whispered.
Kane's eyes flashed silver—a cold, hollow vacuum that seemed to pull the light out of the room. "I eat your Rank-7 soul right here, and I let my Juggernaut over there use your silk uniform to wipe the grease off his knuckles."
The officer's eyes went wide. She looked at the Bishop's empty, hollowed-out shell on the floor. She looked at Vance, who was currently cracking his neck with a sound like a tectonic plate shifting.
"I... I am High-Artificer Elara," she stammered, bowing her head. "The Mercy of Silence is yours to command."
[SQUAD ABILITY UNLOCKED: THE IRON ADMIRALTY]
[SHIP EFFICIENCY: 85% (INCREASING)]