Dock 9 smelled like hot oil, old blood, and someone else’s bad decisions.
Jonny Vance stood in the shadows with his hands in his pockets, watching the Carasis like she was a woman who’d already broken his heart once and was about to do it again.
She was massive. A flat C lying level on her own legs, gunmetal grey and battered, copper pipes snaking along her hull like veins, orange trim peeling where the Dominion had stopped giving a shit about her. Cannons forward. Always forward. Open end of the C facing the dock doors, like she was daring someone to try and leave.
She was a Dominion warship. She was also, Jonny was fairly sure, looking at him.
“Right,” he muttered. “Steal a warship. What could possibly go wrong.”
He was alone. That was the point. No crew. No backup. No one to watch him do something this stupid. And his head was loud. God, it was loud tonight. Loss and betrayal, stacked up over years. People he’d trusted who’d walked away. People he’d loved who he couldn’t save. Some days he was fine funny, cheeky, charming. Tonight his chest felt heavy, and he was joking to cover it, because that was what he did. The worse it was, the funnier he tried to be. He hated seeing suffering. Even in a ship. Especially in a ship that had been left to rot.
“Alright, love,” he whispered to her. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He walked straight up the ramp into the middle rear of the C, into the open cargo doorway, glowing warm, and put his hand flat on the hull. Warm copper. Under his palm. A nerve-line. The whole ship shuddered.
A voice filled the dock. Female. Sharp. Sarcastic. Awake.
“Oh, wonderful. Another idiot with sticky hands. Who the hell are you?”
Jonny grinned. His heart was hammering. For the first time in a long time, something was looking back at him and seeing him.
“Jonny Vance,” he said. “I’m here to steal you.”
“You and what army, darling?”
“Just me. One idiot. One ship. One rule: Screw The Dominion.”
Silence. Then a laugh low, delighted, dangerous.
“...I like you already, Captain. But if you touch that copper conduit again, I’m going to have to file a formal complaint. Or moan. One of the two.”
Jonny laughed, and it came out a bit cracked, because he was sad and furious and hopeful all at once. That was his loop. Help the weak, hurt the cruel, hate himself for hurting, help harder to make up for it. He leaned in, thumb rubbing that warm copper conduit without even thinking, and the bridge lights flickered.
“...Captain,” V.I.X.I. whispered, very quiet, very not sarcastic for once. “Do that again.”
“Do what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Jonny swallowed. “New name. You’re not Carasis anymore. Carasis was Dominion. You’re mine now.”
He walked forward to the cockpit front-right tip of the ship from outside, but to his left as he turned inside tucked in with its glass canopy facing forward, nothing ahead of him but open sky. Four seats. Consoles. Blue screens. Yeah, this was now his place.
“Your name is The Mongoose,” he said in a commanding tone.
V.I.X.I.: “Mongoose? Really? Of all the names in the galaxy, you pick Mongoose?”
Jonny: “Yep that's her name.”
V.I.X.I.: “Why? You owe me an explanation, Captain. I was Carasis. I was feared.”
Jonny: “Exactly, my love. the Dominion called you a serpent-class warship. A big scary snake.”
V.I.X.I.: “And?”
Jonny: “Mongooses, they eat fucking snakes, baby.” He sneers with a low growl deep from within his throat.
V.I.X.I.: “…Oh. Oh, yes, that’s so fucking filthy. I love it.” She giggles. “Really love it.”
Jonny: “So screw the Dominion, yeah? Starting with their shit name for such a beautiful ship.”
The engines started. Low, then louder, then a roar that shook Dock 9 to its bones. The cargo door shut. The ship woke, fully, gloriously awake.
“The Mongoose,” she repeated, purring through every speaker. “I could really get used to that, darling. Now shall we go and screw the Dominion?”
Jonny Vance smiled.
“Yeah, baby,” he said. “Rev this beast up, let’s fucking go.”