Page 136 of Star Claimed Omega
Their jackets were patch-worked from flayed skins and synth-hide.
Each one smeared with sigils of theKraken Latch Crew, a notoriously unhinged pirate outfit infamous for pillaging lost convoys in the ghost stretches of the Pale Nebula.
Every inch of their skin appeared inked with chaos: rust-colored tentacles winding up their throats, leering skulls spitting fire on their hands, and jagged teeth tattooed around their eyes.
The biggest of the trio, broad-chested, with a mohawk carved from carbon filaments, carried a collapsible plasma axe rigged to a stolen mining core.
His weapon sparked, held together by little more than magnetic seals.
The second wore a cracked exo suit modified with bolted-on plating and dual dart-guns at the wrist.
The last, a narrow-eyed freak with sharpened canines, flicked a pair of hooked blade-knuckles, each serrated edge crusted with dry serum.
They moved in a semicircle, boxing the Signet trio near the bar.
‘Well, well,’ the mohawked one purred, licking his yellowed teeth. ‘What’ve we got here? Some newbies in the system. Do they know they have to paybaksheesh, like the rest of thekinaiswho fly through these parts?’
Santi didn’t bother turning his head, his timbre calm as death.
‘Fokkoff.’
‘‘Fraid not,’ the second pirate said, tapping the side of his head where an old neural rig blinked red. ‘We clocked you on the way in. That armor’s signature-grade. Bet you’re packing schills, command tabs, even some sweet little encryption tokens tucked away.’
The third sneered, stepping toward Miral. ‘I’ll take the synth-girl. She looks like she purrs when pressed right.’
Kaal’s lip curled. ‘Should’ve picked a different set of losers to bully.’
‘Shut up,’ the mohawked Kraken barked, brandishing a blade.
‘You really think,’ Santi muttered, ‘you’re the first gang bangers to try and jack us?’
Santi’s eyes met Kaal’s.
Then all hell broke loose.
Undaunted, one corsair tried to snatch Miral’s hand and got aknee to the groinfor his trouble.
‘Ow,’ she deadpanned. ‘Clumsy.’
The wild-hairedkinaiwent for Kaal’s shoulder.
While a third pressed a crackling dagger to Santi’s face.
Kaal moved first, faster than any of the pirates could register.
His body shimmered, bones stretching with a sickening crackle as ghost light flared beneath his skin.
His face twisted into a fierce mask, and razor claws burst from his fingertips. With a growl that shook the bottles off the bar, Kaal lunged.
The mohawked corsair screamed as he crashed backward into a support column, two deep trenches raked across his armored shoulder where Kaal’s claws bit through the material.
Santi didn’t hesitate. His eyes ignited with radiant fire, his teeth elongated into savage fangs, and his hands became wicked talons. The blade pressed to his ribs never even touched him.
He caught the attacker’s wrist, twisted the limb with a sickening wrench, and slammed the man over the bar with enough force to shatter the dura-steel counter. Bottles exploded.
‘Don’t spill the Jet Burn,’ Miral muttered, ducking as shards flew past her head.
The two remaining corsairs witnessed their leaders crumpling and the inhuman speed and power of their attackers.
