“Reduce the atmosphere in the chamber by one percent every five minutes.” Mik’t said to the Scaladorian controlling the station. “It will take some time, but it won’t kill them.”

  Jean had ordered the small contingency of soldiers to take the cruiser, but hadn’t specified exactly how he wanted it done. Given such an open goal, Mik’t was going about the task in the same way he’d approached the defensive array around the planet. Clearly, not every member of his race was a devout follower of the Stygibora. He believed that—if given the chance—most people would choose freedom. Some would still choose to remain blind to the reality of their existence, but some was better than all.

  “Understood.” The soldier at the controls said, typing in a series of commands to override the station’s security protocol. A red light on the console flashed, serving as a constant reminder that living beings were inside the decompressing chamber.

  Mik’t waved an antenna at the screen, and the operator pressed the button to activate communications. “Welcome to the free settlement of Narax. We aim to make your stay here pleasant, but first there are some things that need to be taken care of. In the storage locker beside the door, you’ll find prisoners' shackles. Put them on.”

  Inside the chamber, a soldier in an officer’s uniform bristled. “I am Captain Took’Sar. You have no grounds to hold me or this crew prisoner. Let us free this instant, or you will suffer the wrath of the tribunal.”

  “Captain, please do as you’re told. I am your salvation. The Pirate King wanted to blow your atmosphere in one burst, then take your cruiser as his flagship. By putting on the shackles, he grants you a chance at survival.”

  The soldiers inside the chamber stared in shock at the wall mounted speaker. This person, whoever they were, had just threatened the captain of a Scaladorian vessel twice in a matter of heartbeats. The guards assigned to this hellscape of a world were shocked at the audacity, but the crew who sailed with Took’Sar were mortified.

  “Grants me survival?” Took’Sar roared, waving all four of his arms in anger. “Do you know who I am? Once I find out who you are, I will have you killed, and your family exiled to the farthest reaches of our empire. If you let me go now, perhaps I will allow them to keep a home to sleep in.”

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  “You seem to think this is a negotiation, Captain. You threaten a man’s family for the crime of choosing freedom over enslavement. Do you know what it is we have allowed ourselves to be part of? You will soon.”

  “You will let me free!”

  Mik’t ignored the captain and addressed the rest of the crew in a calm voice. “Currently, the atmosphere in this room is decreasing in density by one percent every five minutes. Eventually, those levels will be so low, a single breath will feel like a stone crushing your carapace. Every breath out will be sucked away by the great black sea, leaving your lungs empty and with nothing to refill them. But, you can save yourselves. There are enough shackles for each of you. If you lock yourselves away voluntarily, the atmosphere will be restored and we will take you to the planet's surface. If you don’t… well, I will just say the Pirate King will have his ship, one way or another.”

  “Enough of this farce! Marines, pry open the door and take this facility.” Took’Sar said.

  “What about the ship, sir?” A crew member asked from the back of the loose formation.

  “The ship can wait. This man will pay for his crimes. Open that door!”

  The marines—unarmed due to the accountability formation—pried at the door for nearly two hours, the scratching of chitin on metal only interrupted by a soft chime every five minutes. Mik’t knew what he was doing was cruel and that anyone who gained freedom from this prison would never again feel comfort onboard a spacefaring vessel. He hated being forced to break these soldiers in such a way, but if they were to survive on this desolate rock, they needed a way to gather supplies.

  A Scaladorian sailor in a dark blue uniform was the first to approach the locker and pull out a set of shackles. Mik’t was surprised. At twenty-four percent atmospheric reduction, they could feel the air growing thin, but not enough to drive desperation. But the sailor didn’t shackle himself, but instead nodded at a group of other crew members who subtlety maneuvered themselves into position.

  The marines noticed the change and slowed down in their attempts to break through the door. After the first ten minutes, they’d figured out that it wasn’t possible and hadn’t really been trying. Behind them, the officer in a white uniform screamed at them to work harder.

  Took’Sar was so focused on the marines and their lack of success. The blow to his head was completely unanticipated. With a thump, he collapsed to the ground as a life support technician locked the set of shackles around his limbs.

  The technician finished and then walked back to the locker, shackled himself, and sat on the ground. Mik’t watched as the other crew members followed suit, but was saddened when the guards and marines wouldn’t do the same. They still had time before any real damage occurred. Hopefully, the pirates wouldn’t need to bury anyone by the time this day was done.