"Bad news, boss—we're surrounded!"
"Surrounded?" The pirates exchanged stunned glances. The situation had just taken an unexpected turn.
Qianlong was equally baffled. Another pirate group? A betrayal? The odds of that were lower than winning the lottery.
"Who is it?" The pirate leader remained calm—his nerves of steel proving why he was in charge.
"D-don't know, but we're outgunned! Their fleet's a goddamn monster!" The voice on the comms trembled.
The ship shuddered violently as something—or someone—forcibly docked with them.
The pirate leader kept trying to seize an opening, but Qianlong's grip didn't waver.
"Kid, let me go. We might both live. Otherwise, we all die here," the man growled.
"No." Qianlong didn't hesitate.
Things couldn't get worse. If this new force was as powerful as claimed, maybe there was a sliver of hope.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor. A hundred soldiers in pristine combat armor stormed in, weapons raised.
"Scum! Drop your weapons—unless you want us to do it for you!"
A loud, cheerful voice boomed from behind them. A man strode forward, his hair neatly combed, eyebrows arched in amusement.
"Captain, these aren't just scum—they're pirates," a short-haired woman beside him corrected dryly.
"Eh, same difference."
"Pirates are cunning and ruthless. There's a distinction."
"Captain, you need to acknowledge your mistake."
The man took a deep breath. "Fine, I get it."
He turned to the pirates. "Weapons down. Hands on your heads. Anyone who wants to resist, step forward now."
Silence. If the pirates could've cursed, they would have.
The newcomers' gear was top-tier—even their grunts had better armor than the pirate boss. Fighting was suicide.
One by one, the pirates surrendered.
Only Qianlong still held his gun to the leader's head.
"Captain, that one hasn't dropped his weapon yet," a soldier pointed out.
The so-called captain rubbed his chin. "No shit."
He walked up to Qianlong. "Drop it."
Qianlong let the gun clatter to the floor.
The refugees watched nervously. Were these newcomers any better than the pirates?
The captain cleared his throat. "Relax, folks. We just happened to pass by and saw pirates. Thought we'd lend a hand."
The pirate leader sneered. "Like you're that charitable."
The captain leaned in until their noses almost touched. "Don't project your filth onto others. The world's kinder than you think."
"Bullshit." The pirate turned away.
Ignoring him, the captain placed a hand on his chest and announced grandly, "Friends, I'm Cromie. You have my word—you're safe. But we've got questions."
Exhausted, some refugees collapsed in relieved tears.
Qianlong spoke up. "What do you want to know?"
Cromie smiled. "Which planet are you from?"
"Belloq."
Cromie's grin vanished. "And Belloq's status?"
"Overrun. We're some of the last survivors."
A heavy silence followed.
"We've got what we needed," the short-haired woman, Milo, cut in. "What do we do with them?"
"They're refugees. We take them in."
"Captain, you're just creating headaches for us!" the team groaned.
"It's not a headache—it's duty. Milo, request asylum clearance from the shipmaster."
Milo sighed. "If we get chewed out, it's on you."
"Nah, the shipmaster'll approve." Cromie waved dismissively.
"You're… taking us in?" A murmur of hope spread through the crowd.
Milo tapped her wrist device. A holographic screen flared to life.
"Requesting Shipmaster authorization… Granted. Connecting."
A stern-faced man with graying temples appeared. "Report."
Cromie beamed. "Confirmed—Belloq's fallen. These folks are refugees. So—"
"You want to take them aboard." The shipmaster pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Not me—we."
"Fine. You handle integration. Any issues, it's your head."
"Deal!"
The transmission cut. Cromie exhaled.
"Let me go! I'm not a pirate!" A naked, struggling nobleman was dragged forward by two soldiers.
Cromie raised an eyebrow. "And this?"
"Caught him mid-assault."
"You have no right! This ship is ours!" the noble shrieked.
Cromie strode over—then punched him in the gut.
"Agh—!"
"We also detained a group resisting orders," a soldier added.
"Criminals stay aboard this wreck. Pirates get processed. Refugees are to be integrated. Twelve hours—get it done."
"Where are we going?" someone asked fearfully.
"The Hyperion. Your new home." Cromie grinned. "Welcome aboard."
Qianlong frowned. "Where did you come from? And where are we headed?"