Entering Psi Trident’s atmosphere was much easier than their earlier tumble through the invisible space waves, but it was still rough. The Darkstorm spun out of control at one point - or at least that’s what it felt like for Charyd - before the viewport was covered in dark gray and rain. The ship’s descent to the planet’s water surface was faster than the rainstorm. The water hit the bottom of the hull and echoed through the entire ship like bullets piercing armor. Only once the ship was stable and had a clear approach to their destination did Charyd let go of his seat’s armrests. 

“Tony,” Captain Posey called out. “Please check in on Officer Saar.”

“He is unconscious.” The Darkstorm’s neutral voice came in. It could have replied slower. 

Charyd’s fingers tapped the board in annoyance but then he remembered he had a job to do. He took over the navigation once the ship stabilized and attempted to find the dock. The landing pad needed better lighting, he was certain he double parked.  A heavy thud and then everything settled. They were on… somewhat solid ground. 

The green-snaked woman hissed in shock. “Captain, I will go check on Officer Saar.”

“For his dignity, I will go instead.” Charyd replied as he inputted the last of the commands to finish the landing sequence. The words came out tasting like copper. Ugh, this was not going to play well. His acting better be perfect. Sure, Charyd was a pirate, but he wasn’t a straight-up prick.

Captain Posey nodded. “Officer Mediva, prep the med bay for when Officer Charyd gets him there. I need Officer Saar up and ready. Inform him he has to review the code of the recent wave we went through. Improve it and return the findings back to the Admiral’s office. Commander Sisyphus, care to join me? Your scowl is better than mine.”

“Of course. Debrief me in your office?” A Cadoon man taller than any Charyd had ever replicated unbuckled from his seat and strolled over. The room would hardly fit ten of this giant and he had crossed it in three strides. Everything about this human was double extra. The barrel chest, the girth of his thighs, his two-strand twists, even his uniform was stretched. He was past due for a resizing thanks to all the bulking he did. Humans and their endless need to bulk up and make their muscles bigger always fascinated Charyd. What was the point if they couldn’t deflate them quickly when they needed to squeeze into a tight space? Like… a panel, for example.

Charyd unbuckled himself and stood up. 

“I’ve always appreciated a shifter. They can lift others with ease.” Commander Sisyphus’s lips stretched back revealing pearlescent teeth. He knew when someone was studying them.

Charyd clipped his boots together. “Sir.” 

Seriously, he had no other words. The smirk on Sisyphus’s face was either threatening or flirting. Charyd could morph into any species or race and could learn their language and slang. But picking up the Language of Love required a whole Ph.D. at the University. Pirating did not come with scholarships either.

Sisyphus hummed as he nudged himself forward with his fingertips to the hallway. With the ship taking on the planet’s softer gravitation, the large man was bouncing smoothly down the hall towards Captain Charyd’s private office. With the man’s bulk, his toes were probably enough to blast him off into space. He caught himself perfectly and continued down the path with small bounces. It was as if he knew the gravity strength already. The Medical officer followed after, her snakes hissing as she overshot her strength and crashed into the panel there. Adjusting to Psi Trident’s gravity was going to take her some time. The command deck’s door slid closed and blocked Charyd's view of the two.

The ship tilted upward slightly before the engines purred on to prevent tipping. Charyd could see nothing but rain and vague outlines past that to signify a building of some sort. The prison. The Darkstorm suddenly tipped to the side and Charyd heard a curse from the other side of the door. Before anybody could say anything, including Captain Posey who was glaring at the ceiling, the Darkstorm’s AI sounded over the speakers, “I need to be locked into the port or else these waves will drift me. Or Flight Officer Charyd can keep me company and stable.”

The Darkstorm’s AI was definitely needing a coding update if it did not know how to prevent drifting. Anchoring was from an ancient c-language. Did the Darkstorm’s landing gear locks not work? Another sudden pivot told Charyd that whatever it was, the Darkstorm was having fun with them. Even the Captain grimaced, her two fangs had to be polished for this mission, most Shicor had at least coffee stains on them.