If Skinner had been stunned by the pristine interior of the shuttle, he was struck absolutely speechless by the interior of the Winds of Fury. From the moment he stepped out of the tiny transport he was assaulted with opulence. The floors were made of elenium crystals woven into a semi-transparent latticework inlaid with platinum wires. Glass panels divided the hallways into organized walking paths and there were interior gardens and planters everywhere he looked. Nehuasta led him down one of the hallways into a large commons area with a four-tiered fountain at the center, ignoring his dumbstruck face.

“You’re going to need protites,” she told him as she walked over to one of the terminals at the far end of the commons. “No sense in you dying until you give your report.” She dialed in the default protite settings for his species, extracting the syringe and handing it to him. “Do your thing, human… unless even this scares you.”

Skinner took the syringe from her and lined it up with the port on his chest, slowly penetrating the valve. He felt the needle slide through his skin – a momentary white-hot point of pain – before the sweet relief of the protites flooding into his lungs took his mind off the sensation. Once they were all injected, he tore the syringe out and handed it back to Nehuasta without a word. He tried feebly to remove his helmet one-handed, but that task proved pointless. Nehuasta merely snorted again and beckoned for him to follow her.

Two of her officers ran up to her, both Heil. They once more wore the same polished armor, but this time Skinner saw them without their helmets on. They approached Nehuasta and saluted sharply. “Ma’am, you are needed on the bridge immediately.”

“What’s going on?” she asked before jerking her horned head towards Skinner. “I have to take him to medical.”

“Lady Aksak called for you personally, ma’am. We can escort the visitor to medical,” the second one said.

Nehuasta nodded before turning to Skinner. “You’re with them now. Debrief will have to wait.” She turned without another word and marched away towards a row of elevators. Skinner swallowed, watching her leave. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved that she was gone or worried. The two Heil he’d been left with watched her leave for a moment as well before addressing him.

“Captain Skinner, I presume,” one of them—a female with a black V-shaped mark on her face—said as she turned towards him. “Please follow me to medical.”

He fell into step behind her. The second Heil, a burly male with biceps as big as his thighs, brought up the rear. Skinner didn’t say anything, looking around and trying to memorize his route and figure out approximately where he was.

“The LRRC Winds of Fury is two kilometers from end to end,” Lumos informed him. “Her records indicate that she has undergone extensive modification, but the floorplan remains similar to other Aziith-class cruisers. I should be able to provide navigational assistance if required.”

Skinner nodded silently as the two Heil led him through a pair of elenium doors, the crystal patterns glittering vibrantly as they slid soundlessly into the walls. “Welcome to medical,” the female said. “Be seated and our technician will be with you shortly.”

“I’m okay standing,” Skinner said. “I’d rather—”

The male walked up to him with a huff. “She said take a seat,” he grunted, putting one hand on Skinner’s shoulder and pushing him down onto a bench.

“Yikes. I get it,” Skinner said, tossing his prosthetic on the seat next to him. “Yeesh…”

The more he dealt with this group, the more he was reminded of why he had chosen not to live in Senate space. The Senate was arguably the oldest ruling body currently active in the Galaxy, and generally seemed to act as if this gave it free reign to do whatever it wanted. Although smaller now than it once was, it strove to make up for this by constantly flexing its proverbial muscles. The presence of Senate Hunters in the Frontier was one such example. He’d also seen trade embargoes and martial law imposed on planets within their reach.

The room was large, but the numerous machines around it made the size seem much smaller. There were several triage tables, stasis pods and full-body scanners lined up in neat rows along the walls, making it feel like the sides of the room were closing in on him. Skinner was about to stand up and try to move around when the two Heil abruptly turned and walked out of the room, passing a Taeski on the way in.

“Good evening, visitor,” the Taeski said as he approached. “My name is Thulvan. I apologize for any harm my crewmates may have caused you; their concept of medical treatment is somewhat lacking. Please, do tell me how I may assist you today.”

He could have been human, Skinner supposed, were it not for the nut-brown scaly skin and serpentine eyes. Skinner hadn’t had too many dealings with Taeski—they weren’t common on the Frontier—but he’d heard legends and rumors. He knew they could hypnotize anyone who looked into their third eye, which was currently tightly closed on his forehead. He also knew they were insanely flexible, much like snakes back on Earth, and could contort their bodies in ways that would horrify a human.

“Well, I’d love to get my arm reattached,” Skinner said, picking up the prosthetic and offering it to the doctor. “Can you help with that?”

The Taeski politely took the arm from him, stripping off the polyform layer protecting it and examining it in more detail. The arm was made from a purplish-black material and had four fingers at the end. The palm was completely empty, the fingers connected to a ring-like structure instead. “Hmmm… this is an intriguing prosthetic. Where did you have it made?”

“I didn’t. Found it in with a ton of other salvage a few months after losing mine. A Zyzyt modified it to work for me.”

The Taeski nodded. “You seem like the kind of opportunist who would be able to make that work. Let me see what I can do. Please be patient. Is there anything you require while I work?”

Skinner bit back the dozen or so sarcastic answers that sprang to mind. “Sedative?”

“Other than that, I mean. I would not attempt to reconnect a prosthetic without one,” Thulvan said. “Did you have this professionally attached or was this a rushed operation?”

“Rush job,” Skinner said. “A total rush job, why?”

Thulvan shook his head and walked back over to Skinner, cutting away the polyform on his shoulder with a tiny, monomolecular blade. “No reason – I simply believe I can do better.” He examined the socket where Skinner’s arm should have been. “Hmmm… this wasn’t a medical amputation, was it?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Skinner said, looking away from the medic. “Let’s just say I was in a sucky situation and leave it at that, okay?”

The Taeski held up his hands, bowing his head to Skinner. “I meant no offense,” he said. “The implant work is very shoddy. I would recommend that you seek a professional to realign it.”

“I don’t have the time or money to do that,” Skinner said flatly. “The prosthetic works fine the way it is.”

“Were you recently in a fight?” Thulvan asked, tipping up his head.

Skinner hesitated. “Mmmmmaybe… why?”

“Part of the reason the arm was so unstable is it was wrenched quite forcefully, perhaps in a fight or by pushing too hard against something. It weakened the structural supports on your shoulder implant.”

“And then smacking into the floor finished it off,” Skinner finished. “Ah… okay. Well, that explains it. And yes, I kind of was, but it’s something else I don’t want to talk about.” He tried to push the image of that horrifying vertical mouth and the pallid, pale flesh from his mind’s eye. It wasn’t working.

“Very well. I shall not be long – this should only take a moment.”

Skinner looked away as the Taeski applied a sedative patch to his shoulder. The cold, sweeping numbness was almost instantaneous, but Skinner still didn’t like people working on his prosthetic. He didn’t like watching it, or needing maintenance or any of it. It was times like this that he was acutely aware of his vulnerability and began wishing he hadn’t lost his arm in the first place.

There was commotion outside the medical bay, and both Skinner and Thulvan looked towards the doors at the same time. They hissed open to reveal Nehuasta storming in, her fists clenched at her sides. “Thulvan! Patch him up quick – we’re going to need him!” she barked. A second figure—a Heil—stepped in behind her. This one was wearing simple black polyform, but had opted to forego the armor in favor of several tunic-like rags. Skinner swallowed as her gaze met his for a moment. This Heil could’ve easily snapped him in half like a discarded toothpick. Her muscles were defined and large—far more prominent than his—and every inch of her looked toned and hardened. Even through the polyform, he could see the clear lines of definition in almost every muscle group. She stood behind Nehuasta, her arms folded across her chest, with the air of someone ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Thulvan didn’t look as perturbed as Skinner felt. “What is going on?” he said. “This is a delicate operation! I cannot simply ‘hurry it along’ for you.”

“Well you’re going to have to,” Nehuasta said. We’re receiving multiple distress calls – all on open, unsecured channels from a Senate world on the edge of the Frontier. Grimmak – an Erythian planet. They’re yelling for help on every frequency available.”

Thulvan held Skinner’s prosthetic in place, teasing out the connecting wires with a set of tweezers. “I fail to understand what that has to do with my patient here,” he said. “While I am gravely concerned for the citizens of Grimmak, I—”

“Patch him up, Thulvan. Now.”

Thulvan snarled, his lips pulling back from his razor-sharp teeth in a grimace of anger and exasperation. “He is of no use to you if I kill him because you are impatient,” the Taeski growled. “This prosthetic is unfamiliar to me—” a series of sparks popped out of Skinner’s shoulder implant, punctuating the statement. “—and I am concerned about causing major nerve damage.”

“Please don’t,” Skinner said, turning his head towards the doctor for the first time since he’d begun his work. “I really don’t need more problems.”

“You are going to have a lot more to worry about than nerve damage if Thulvan doesn’t finish with you quickly,” Nehuasta growled. “People are dying on Grimmak right now while you two play around. If you can’t get the arm reattached, throw it away. He can get a new one – this is a matter of importance.”

Thulvan gave Nehuasta a baleful stare, and Skinner could feel the anger radiating off of him. “I apologize, Captain Skinner, but I am going to have to rush. My superiors evidently have other plans for you. Will you be able to secure a new polyform suit on your own, or shall I put in a requisition order for one?”

“A requisition would be nice,” Skinner said. He probably could have gotten a new one, but the chance at getting his hands on a Senate-quality polyform suit was too much to pass up. Better to buy new whenever possible… and even better not to have to pay for it.

The woman behind Nehuasta—Skinner presumed her to be Aksak—pulled a Data Pad from a hide pouch on her hip. “I’ll put the order through,” she said.

“Thank you,” Thulvan said, although his tone sounded anything but grateful. Another series of sparks burst from Skinner’s shoulder, but this time they were accompanied by a triumphant cry from the medic. “Ah-ha! Got it!”

“Beautiful,” Nehuasta said. “Now then…” she hauled Skinner up by his other arm. “…you are going to tell me everything you know about the creature you said you fought on Schunston.”

Skinner felt the color drain out of his face. “W-what? What a-about it?” he stammered.

Aksak turned the Data Pad around to face him. “This is a narrow-band distress call that was placed by Globeware Enterprises,” she said. “They are one of the major funding sources for Grimmak and use it as a foothold into the Frontier.”

A video recording began to play. At first, the video footage was too grainy to make out. All Skinner could see was a series of pixelated colors. He could hear, though, as several voices clamored for attention on the channel. All of them were barking evacuation orders and distress calls. Finally, after a few seconds, the video footage cleared up enough for Skinner to realize what he was seeing.

It had obviously been filmed by a mounted security camera recording the front gate to some kind of facility on the planet. Skinner watched in a mixture of horror and curiosity as a group of Erythians backed through the door, broadcasting their distress loudly on all channels. He could hear them calling for help in multiple languages—including English—before six ghoulish monsters jumped through the gateway after them. One of the Erythians was immediately torn to shreds as the others turned and ran, firing back at their assailants as they went.

Skinner felt his stomach turning and resisted the urge to vomit. Aksak held the pad still for him as the creatures gave chase, racing off in the direction the Erythians had gone. Two white, ovoid objects hovered through the door and paused above the downed Erythian. One of them seemed to scan the corpse several times from different angles before the body simply dissolved into some kind of sparkling powder. The oval object absorbed it and quickly moved on, rejoining its partner and pursuing the creatures.

“As I said,” Nehuasta growled. “You are going to tell us everything.”