A small silver-coloured pod drifted silently through a soft colour-burst nebula, its smooth grey chassis lined with the occasional flashing crimson light. It did not respond to the sudden upwards motion imparted upon it, as a hazy blue field enveloped its body.

 

It was drawn into the belly of a larger craft, cautiously hovering above. The swift, silent retraction of the larger ship’s underside doors revealed a large hangar bay, surprisingly rich in decoration and colour. It snapped shut upon the successful retrieval of the pod, which was gently hauled by a ceiling-mounted mag-claw into the middle of the bay, and dropped with a resonating, metallic thud.

 

A black coralith komodo stepped out towards the pod, his crimson eyes flexed with concern. He was dressed sharply in a long red and gold overcoat that belayed a rank of great importance.

 

“This has to be it.” He murmured, nodding gently towards the sealed pod. “I hope we’re not too late.”

 

At his command, a varied crew of pirates advanced on the door, tools and cutters clamped in nervous hands.

 

“We’ll get you out, just hold on tight.”

 

An athletic-looking young woman stepped forward, wearing in oil-covered overalls, her species an eclectic mix of human and axolotl. Her fingers traced over the silver shell, until she found the slightest indentation on its smooth chassis, invisible to the naked eye but indicating the pod's door. The contact seemed enough to activate the holo-pad, which materialised to the right of her hand. She pressed her hand onto the pad, but her attempt was met with a soft red flash of denial.

 

“Cut it.” The komodo ordered upon seeing the red flicker. “Check for traps too. In case this is someone’s idea of a prank.”

 

The crew did as ordered, scanning the pod with various tools, and applying precision cutting equipment to the pod's singular inlaid door. Some time later and the pod was still holding, refusing to reveal its concealed contents. Heavier tools were brought to bear against the door.

 

After a sustained assault from multiple saws, the door finally clunked open. The saws were immediately silenced and the crew gathered around, hands fiddling nervously with their holsters as the door gently raised from the shell, hissing quietly as the atmospheric seal broke. The komodo captain stepped forward.

 

“Hey! We picked up your SOS signal, we’re here to help you!” The captain called out, his voice calm, collected and well-spoken. “You have nothing to fear if you’re looking for aid.”

 

But as the door began to lift, the smell of staunch iron hit the crew like a wall. Blood dripped down from the bottom of the seal, running down the pod's shell like a fresh wound.

 

The crew winced in unison as the craft finally revealed its contents.

 

Inside was a dead dragon, hanging upside-down against the wall, stakes punctured through his calves. A flap of his skin had been cut in a rectangular shape, running from the base of his pelvis, all the way to his neck. The cut had not been complete and had been purposely left attached at his neck, allowing the flayed skin to hang over the victim's face. On the now exposed fatty tissue there was a seared lettering, but its finer details were obscured in the darkness of the pod. The captain’s brow furrowed as recognition unfortunately graced him.

 

The captain approached the pod cautiously and leaned his head inside, his eyes landed back on the executed dragon. He had been striped, his black robes left discarded on the floor, soaking in the crimson. The captain pulled a torch from a pocket and shined its beam on the brand, burnt onto its organic tapestry with gruesome precision:

 

YOUR MOVE

 

The entire floor of the pod was covered in a slightly sticky layer of blood.

 

A cold shiver ran down his spine. It had been hundreds of years since he'd last seen an execution like this, and it was one he'd hoped desperately to never see again.

 

“You doing okay, Wex?” The hybrid girl called out from behind him, a hint of worry in her voice. “You’ve gone really quiet.”

 

“Yeah. I’m alright. Just… This is bad.” He went to continue, when a shuddering realisation stole the words from his mouth.

 

This was too much blood for one person.

 

He flicked the torch around the pod and caught the silhouette of two more bodies, further in the pod and strapped securely into their seats. Both had been shot in the head.

 

They both shared the same mottled brown skin, and white sprinkles around their muzzles. Likely brother and sister.

 

The smaller one wore a bandage, tightly wrapped around his ankle.