The Tyrants have returned to the mess hall. The warm lights of the hall shine in through the kitchen doorway. The laughing and cheering resumes. Sebastian listens to the sounds of the pirates’ chatter while he quietly organizes the counter space. Alone in the kitchen, the only thing he can do is think. Anxiety fills the empty space. Fear buzzes within his mind. Now that he has the opportunity to breathe and relax, he can’t seem to do either. But as his thoughts begin to wander towards misery, Sebastian begins to hear something that grabs his attention.

Paper lanterns hang above, providing warm respite from the waning chaos. Dusty places a bottle of whiskey on the dark lacquered table in front of her. As the only soul aboard who prefers whiskey over wine, she has this bottle all to herself tonight. She takes a sip from the glass she just poured for herself.

Neat.

It’s just what she needed.

It’s been a long day.

And she can see Ringo puffing out his chest and running his hands through his beard. He’s preparing himself to address the crew. It’s story time. She takes a larger swig. Ringo sees Dusty raise her glass, so he raises his high, standing to his feet. He rocks back and forth, barely catching himself before he falls. Now that all the day's work is done, Ringo has drunk himself into the deep end.

"These past few days have been rough. For all of us. We’ve fought, we’ve struggled, we’ve bled. Yet, through the fire, across the glass and under the dust, we've survived another day!" Ringo projects his voice all around the room.

There is a unified hurrah from the pirates.

"Raise your glasses high, Dead Tyrants! Because of your hard work, more of those lune bastards now share our namesake!"

Glasses are thrust into the air. Contraband wine rains down onto the table. There are cheers all throughout the room. Sebastian listens closely, hoping to hear more context for the situation he has become involuntarily intertwined within. Dusty’s mind begins to wander away from the jovial atmosphere. The comforting lights of the lanterns flare intensely. They flicker into bright blasts—each popping closer than the last. They are accompanied by the booming percussion of anti-air cannons.

Her whiskey ripples within its glass. The whole room begins to shake.

The turbulence returns.

Deafening combustions surround Tyrannis on all sides. A constant cacophony of retaliation.

Dusty’s shoulders are tense. Extremely tense.

Tyrannis’ close-in weapon system, a large gatling cannon at the nose of the ship, roars to life. The floor beneath her feet vibrates violently.

"Those bastards could never cage us in!" June yells as she repeatedly clinks her glass with the back of her machete.

"Their rail guns couldn’t stop us! Their bullets couldn’t dent us! Their missiles couldn’t catch us!" Ringo yells as he swings his wine glass in front of him, miraculously avoiding spilling a single drop as he raises it to his mouth.

"But one did!" Someone yells jovially.

"Aye! Right on the arse!" Ringo bellows.

The pirates laugh loudly and cheer.

"Well! Millions of dollars in computers and ballistics ought to have bought ‘em at least one hit!" Another pirate says.

Everyone laughs again. Ringo raises his glass towards Dusty, making direct eye contact with her.

"Despite that blow, we’re still here! We have Connolly to thank for that! Some excellent mechanic work and a quick trip into the heart of enemy territory got us out of that bind. She’s saved our lives. To Dusty—"

"And me!" June yells.

Ringo laughs. "Yes! Yes! To Dusty and June!"

The room fills with cheers. The Captain raises her glass to June, then does the same towards Dusty, albeit with a suppressed intensity.

The close-in weapons system knocks several incoming missiles out of the air, shaking every inch of the ship as it does so.

The noise is overwhelming.

Ringo’s voice blares out of a nearby intercom:

"The colony’s launched another wave of missiles! This bloody mining town is armed like a military base—"

A large blast shakes the ship to its core.