Salvage of the Far Talon 2

The void of unexplored space stretched endlessly beyond the Avenger’s sensors, a silent expanse broken only by the faint distress signal emanating from the Far Talon 2. The Cartyr rescue frigate, its sleek hull scarred and drifting near a nebula’s edge, bore the marks of a desperate flight—a journey that had begun far in the past. Privateer scouts led by Karren had stumbled upon the wreck, reporting damage and a brief skirmish with Red Dragon pirates scavenging its husk. After driving off the Red Dragon ship and claiming their bounty for the discovery, the Privateers withdrew, leaving the URF to take over. Now, Sonya Blade’s team, still fragile from her recent treatments, steered their shuttle toward the derelict, its shadowed form looming in the void.

Sonya gripped the harness, her body tense from the second treatment’s toll. Sweat beaded on her brow, and the glucose tube in her pocket felt like a fragile anchor. She checked her SMG-style blaster, its compact frame humming with charged plasma cells, a lightweight weapon suited for close quarters battle aboard ships and her shaky grip. Beside her, 2nd Lt. Alex Marrow adjusted his data pad, his mystic wards flickering faintly, while Gunnery Sgt. James Hunter checked his light repeater, his broad frame a steady presence. Katherine ‘Kat’ Kerrigan, her sniper rifle ready, scanned the approaching ship, her dark green eyes sharp. Looking at the repeater displays, Sonya traced a finger along one of the lances protruding from the hull. “These look like a smaller version of the Avenger’s Reflex Lances. Could this ship be related to the Avenger?”

“Possibly, but that’s not our primary concern at the moment,” Kat reported, her voice low. “Scans show multiple heat signatures—likely pirates still aboard, possibly near what scans indicate could be the medical bay.”

Sonya nodded, wincing as she shifted. “Stay sharp. We secure the ship, assess its FTL drive, and call in salvage.”

James looked at her, his tone gruff. “No heroics, lass—you’re nigh at full strength.”

Sonya gave a tired smile. “I’ll try not to.”

The shuttle docked with a metallic groan, and the team moved into the Far Talon 2’s dim corridors. The air was stale, thick with the scent of burnt circuits and a faint, otherworldly tang—remnants of a journey that defied time. Red Dragon pirates emerged from the shadows, their scavenged armor glinting as they brandished plasma rifles. “Back off, this is our salvage!” a scarred member snarled, his cybernetic eye glowing as he fired a wild shot that ricocheted off the bulkhead.

James returned fire, his repeater roaring as he dropped two pirates, their armor sparking under the barrage. Alex’s ward shimmered, deflecting a bolt aimed at Sonya, who ducked and squeezed off a controlled burst from her SMG. The plasma rounds stitched across a pirate’s chest, dropping him with a guttural cry. Kat’s sniper rifle cracked, her shot piercing a raider’s shoulder, forcing him to retreat. “Medical bay’s ahead,” she called, motioning down a side passage, though the alien script on the walls remained indecipherable.

The team advanced quickly with precision, but the pirates tried to regroup, a burly enforcer charging with a vibro-axe to give the others time. Sonya sidestepped, her enhanced strength—raw from treatment—flaring as she blocked the swing with her forearm, the impact jarring her bones. She gritted her teeth, firing point-blank into the enforcer’s gut, the SMG’s recoil testing her shaky hold. James flanked, his repeater cutting down a sniper perched above, while Alex’s ward absorbed a grenade blast, shrapnel clattering around them. 

“Push through!” Sonya ordered, her voice strained but firm. She led the charge, her blaster spitting fire as they pushed up to a T intersection. A quick glance around the corner showed a pirate ambush awaited—three raiders with heavy blasters opened up, forcing Sonya back around the corner. Sonya peeked out, her SMG chattering as she suppressed them, plasma scorching the walls. Kat and James dashed across the opening as bolts scorched the wall behind them. Kat quickly knelt down at the edge of the corner and lined up a shot, her sniper shot taking out the lead raider, while James lobbed a stun grenade, disorienting the others. Sonya charged forward, her legs trembling but driven by adrenaline, and finished them with a burst to their chests.

Breathing heavily, she leaned against the wall, the sealed door ahead marked with unfamiliar alien script. “Clear!” she gasped.

“Clear,” Kat confirmed, scanning the other corridors. “They’re probably regrouping. Alex, James, cover the corridors.” Kat took a quick glance through the door’s window. “That’s not the medical bay—looks like a cryo storage area.”

Sonya frowned, peering through the door’s window at rows of pods. “We need to wake someone to help navigate this wreck. Let’s see if we can revive a couple of the crew.”

In the cryo bay, they found rows of pods—some damaged but most were intact. As they swept the bay to secure it, Sonya stopped at one of the pods, glancing at the alien script. While she couldn’t read it, the control layout looked exactly like the emergency cryo pods on the Avenger that she had trained on. Once they were sure the bay was clear, Sonya quickly activated the revival sequence on one of the pods, giving a sigh of relief as it seemed to cycle the revival process. “Heads up, the revival process is the same as the Avenger’s pods.”

The lid hissed open, revealing a tall Elvin female with long pointed eyes, bluish-purple skin, and blue hair. The woman blinked, her voice weak but steady. “I’m Lieutenant Illiam Vagas, Chief Engineer of this vessel. Thank you… who are you?” Alex pulled out a handheld medical scanner as he rushed over to her.

Sonya replied, helping her up as Alex scanned her. “Lieutenant Sonya Blade, United Rebel Front, Warship: Avenger. We’re trying to secure your ship from the pirates that are trying to loot it. Unfortunately, we don’t know your language; any help you can provide to lock them down would be appreciated.”

Illiam nodded, her eyes narrowing as she moved to a nearby console, her fingers tracing alien script etched into the panel. “I should be able to check the ship’s status from here.”

Alex approached the next pod, reviving an Elvin male with a similar build to Illiam only with purple-skin and green hair. The man sat up, his voice raspy. “I’m Commander Alavan Auin, Weapons Officer. You’ve got my gratitude. What’s the situation?”

“Red Dragons are trying to loot your ship,” Sonya said. “We’re in the process of clearing them out.”

James guarded the entrance as Kat revived the next pod, where an obsidian-skinned Elf with short white hair and red highlights emerged. The woman rose, her face resolute as she studied them with her red eyes. “I’m Captain Akor Qualyn. Thank you for the rescue. What’s our status?”

“There are a few pirates left, probably regrouping,” Sonya replied. “Your engineer’s assessing the damage.”

Kat moved to another pod, where an Elvish figure in a priestly robe stirred. The woman’s purple skin and silver hair with red and blue highlights glowed faintly as she stood. “I am High Priestess Dirz Intra Rilyn Tillar. Your aid is… timely.”

Sonya frowned, sensing an unspoken weight. “What happened to your ship?”

Akor leaned on Illiam, her voice low. “We were ambushed while we were attempting a far fold. The drive took heavy damage.”

Illiam returned from the console, her expression grim. “The fold drive’s core is damaged, diags confirms it’s unstable—we need a dry-dock that can handle our repairs.”

Sonya nodded, “Our salvage ships will be able to get you to Ta’charin they should be able to help. Can you guide us to the remaining pirates?”

Illiam nodded heading back to the console, “Yeah I think we can do that.” Kat quickly walked over to Illiam and handed her a spare headset. “This is on our frequency.”

Illiam took it as she worked on the console. “I’ve got three heat signatures at junction four. I’ll guide you to them.”

“Thanks, we’ll clear out the rest of them.” Sonya grabbed one of the glucose tubes, quickly downing its contents as she turned to her team. “Let’s do this.”

The team moved out, Sonya leading with her SMG raised, her steps unsteady but determined. They navigated the labyrinthine corridors with Illiam’s help, the alien script a constant reminder of their unfamiliarity. A sudden clatter echoed from a junction ahead—Red Dragon stragglers, their shouts growing louder. “They’re making a last stand,” James growled, priming his repeater.

Sonya nodded, peering around the corner. Three pirates crouched behind crates, their heavy blasters trained on the approach. “Kat, take high ground. Alex, ward us. James, suppress on my mark.” She steadied her breathing, the glucose tube’s boost giving her a fleeting surge of energy.

Kat scaled a maintenance ladder, disappearing into the shadows above, while Alex’s ward shimmered into place. Sonya signaled James, who unleashed a volley from his repeater, forcing the pirates to duck. Kat’s sniper rifle cracked, her shot dropping one pirate with a clean headshot. Sonya darted forward, her SMG barking as she targeted the second, plasma rounds tearing through his armor. The third pirate lunged, swinging a plasma knife, but Sonya caught his arm with her free hand snapping his arm with a twist of her wrist as she let out a burst from her SMG downing him.

Panting, Sonya leaned against a crate, her vision swimming. The team regrouped, catching their breath as the last echoes of combat faded. James set up at the nearest cover, while Alex scanned for residual threats. “Status?” Sonya gasped, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Clear,” Kat called from above, sliding down. Illiam’s voice came over their headsets, “That should be the last of them. Ship’s ours.”

James scanned the corridor. “Aye, let’s head back to cryo then.”

Sonya nodded, her resolve hardening despite the exhaustion and her joints feeling like they were on fire. “Agreed, good work everyone.”

The team returned to the cryo bay, where the salvage team’s distant hum signaled their approach. As they debriefed with the revived crew, Dirz approached Sonya, her silver hair catching the dim light. “Lieutenant, might I have a word? In private?”

Sonya, still catching her breath, nodded warily. “Sure.”

Dirz gestured to a small supply alcove. “Perhaps out of the way of the crew’s work?”

“Good idea.” They moved to the small alcove, the hum of the ship’s failing systems a quiet backdrop. Dirz’s voice was soft but firm. “I want to personally thank you and your team for their assistance. The Cartyr were once a proud empire made up of primarily four races—Night Ravens, Night Stalkers, Na’stril, and Xerxan. We were masters of the stars and Reflex energy, given to us by our Goddess Elune. We crafted powerful Reflex weapons, the fold drives—technologies your Avenger seems to echo. Our Empire spanned galaxies, protecting weaker races from those who would try to subvert or enslave them. But the loss of our Goddess Elune to imprisonment caused many to stray from her path, becoming prideful and rejecting her teachings. This led to division, and the resulting Civil War tore us apart. The Reflex energy meant to protect us was turned against each other. Worlds burned, and our people scattered. I’ve seen the aftermath on many decimated worlds, and it drove me to seek a way to change our fate.”

Sonya leaned against the wall, her mind drifting to Stephanie’s cryptic mention of “Tam’balic” during testing, though she couldn’t grasp its significance. “Why tell me this now?”

Dirz’s eyes held a distant pain. “Because this ship may carry what remains of that legacy. The far fold we attempted was meant to preserve it, to find aid. Ta’charin now may hold the key to our people’s survival—and perhaps more. But that’s all I can say for now. We must reach it.”

Sonya studied her, sensing the weight of unspoken truths. “You’ll get there. But if there’s more, I need to know eventually.”

Dirz nodded, her expression unreadable. “In time.”

Sonya pulled out another tube of glucose paste and opened it, grimacing as she downed some of the contents. “There’s a lot of tech aboard the Avenger in the same script as on this ship. Would you help us translate it to Galactic Common?”

Dirz considered this, her gaze steady. “Yes, I think we could do that. Perhaps in exchange for some of the repairs?”

Sonya nodded, wiping her mouth. “I’ll talk to some people and see if they’d agree to it.” She gave Dirz a questioning look. “In the meantime, what’s a Tam’balic?”

Dirz’s eyes widened slightly for a brief instant, then softened. “Where did you hear that?”

Sonya’s eyes narrowed. “Does it matter?”

Dirz chuckled softly. “I suppose not, for translation. It’s just that we lost so much during the Civil War—I was hoping it might be a cache of our history that survived. The ‘Tam’balic’ roughly translates to ‘daughter of Elune’ or ‘Elune’s daughter.’ We believed it was a demigod with a deep connection to Reflex energy, a figure destined to rescue our Goddess. The tests were flawed, though—long exposure to Reflex energy could trigger false positives to varying degrees.”

Sonya tilted her head, intrigued. “Interesting. During testing on the Avenger, it flagged me as a possible match.”

Dirz smirked, her tone light. “No offense, but you’re a bit short for the Tam’balic. She’s said to stand around two point four meters tall. Likely a misread—If it’s ever a hundred percent match, immediately check to make sure you're not suffering from radiation poisoning. We can investigate further if you aren't poisoned. For now, let’s rejoin your team.”

As they walked back to Sonya’s team, Sonya contacted the Avenger. “This is Blade. There are surviving crew members on board, I repeat the derelict has survivors—URF salvage ships are cleared to tow the Far Talon 2 to Ta’charin. Let them know that this ship has a Fold drive that needs repair.”

Martines came over the comms, his voice crackling with surprise. “Say again, they have a Fold drive?”

“Confirmed,” Sonya replied. “This ship has a few similarities to the Avenger. There is a common origin between them.”

As the team planned out their next moves, Dirz watched Sonya, her silence heavy with secrets. It was too soon to attempt to free Elune. The priestess clung to hope that Ta’charin’s repairs would align their path—unaware of the consequences of her meddling with the timeline.