Silence locked the bridge, heavy and hollow. Corrado’s eyes, normally sharp as diamond shards, were wide, then narrowed into slits of pure, unadulterated fury. He let out a harsh bark of laughter that echoed off the metal bulkheads. “A Veltis threatening suicide? Against his own grandfather?” He took a deliberate step forward, the crunch of his boot on the deck plate resonating with his contempt. “You misunderstand, boy. This isn’t a game. You are either Veltis, or you are nothing.” Nyssa, still poised to shield Miro, felt a tremor of dread. This wasn't the kind of man who could be reasoned with or intimidated by sentiment. The riflemen shifted, their laser sights dancing nervously over Miro’s form, waiting for Corrado’s next command. Tassio, a pale and trembling lump on the deck, whimpered, trying to scrabble further away. Miro’s gaze never left his grandfather’s. The last vestiges of his cheerful demeanor, the soft edges of his optimism, seemed to have been burned away by the raw disdain in Corrado’s voice. He wasn’t looking at a misunderstanding anymore; he was looking at an absolute, unyielding wall. A slow, almost imperceptible smile – completely devoid of warmth – stretched his lips. It wasn't a smile of amusement, but of grim, decisive realization. “Perhaps,” Miro said, his voice now a low hum that somehow cut through the hum of the Dreadnought’s engines, “I just need a different kind of leverage.” Before Corrado could react, before the guards could even twitch their fingers on their triggers, Miro flicked his wrist. The obsidian dagger, still pressed to his throat a fraction of a second before, spun end over end in the air, a dark blur against the metallic expanse of the command deck. It arced clear of the riflemen, streaking straight toward a recessed housing below the primary helm where exposed conduits hummed behind cracked glass. The dagger buried itself hilt-deep into the glowing heart of the matrix with a sickening *CRACK*. An immediate, ear-splitting shriek ripped through the ship, followed by a series of concussive thumps. The deck lurched violently sideways, throwing everyone off balance. Crimson emergency strobes flared across the bulkheads. Alarms blared, a cacophony of distorted warnings echoing from the shattered navigation systems. The massive hull groans, tipping into a violent skid. "Impact imminent!" a synthesized voice squawked over the comms before fizzing into static. “What have you done, you imbecile?!” Corrado roared, staggering as the ship began its uncontrolled, sickening nosedive towards the churning dark waters of the bay below. The G-forces pressed down, then lifted, then slammed them against the deck as the colossal vessel tumbled. Nyssa, recovering her footing with a seasoned grace, didn't hesitate. Veltis enforcers staggered across the tilted deck, scrambling to level their barrels. She drew her pistol, the familiar weight a comfort in the pandemonium. She emptied three rounds into the nearest shooter's chest plate, then vaulted a wrecked terminal for cover. Her movements were fluid, precise, born of countless skirmishes. She peppered the Veltis soldiers with suppressing fire, forcing them to scatter, their tactical advantage dissolving in the chaos. Tassio skidded across slick plating toward hydraulic blast barriers sliding shut near the secondary gangway. Survival instinct screamed at him. He could wedge through the opening and search for an egress craft. He stumbled, then saw Nyssa, trading fire with three Veltis guards, her back to the closing doors, her face a mask of fierce concentration. He saw Miro halfway across the bridge, fingers clattering across a cracked auxiliary panel while sparks rained over his shoulders. Another shudder of the vessel threw Tassio flat against the deck. The seam between the reinforced steel plates shrank to inches, grinding under emergency locks. The open harbor churned through breached viewports below, offering a desperate drop. But something in Nyssa’s unyielding stance, in Miro’s bizarre, cheerful determination, sparked a different kind of impulse within him. A flicker of something he hadn't known he possessed. He saw two more shooters flank Nyssa, red discharge chewing concrete and steel around her boots. Air hitched dry in his ribs. He wouldn’t make it out, not really. Not with the Veltis cartel after him, and certainly not if he left her behind. With a guttural shout, Tassio hurled himself between the hydraulic leaves. The metal shrieked, refusing to seal completely, the internal mechanisms grinding with protest. He was pinned, his ribs cracking, but the door remained open, a sliver of hope for the others. He gasped, a mixture of pain and defiant resolve on his face. “Go! Get out! I’ll… I’ll buy you time!” he croaked, his voice barely audible above the din. Miro, humming as his fingers tore past security firewalls, glanced up. “Oh, Tassio, that’s incredibly thoughtful of you! Excellent initiative, truly! A strong team player!” He then leaned into a jury-rigged comms mic. His voice, crisp and buoyant, crackled across the vessel's PA network. “Attention, Veltis Maritime personnel! This is your captain speaking – or, rather, your temporary pilot. We apologize for the unscheduled rapid descent and the… *unconventional* flight path. Please remain calm, secure all loose items, and brace for impact! We anticipate a delightful splashdown shortly! Complimentary artisanal mints are available upon request, post-rescue, of course!” Nyssa, having just dropped a guard with a precisely aimed shot, looked at Miro, then at the impossibly wedged Tassio, then back at the Veltis goons still trying to push past the blast doors. “Miro, what are you *doing*?!” she yelled, reloading her pistol with practiced speed. Miro waved toward a hydraulic lift well grinding open beside them, exposing an armored drift car clamped to launch skids. "Just hailing our ride, Nyssa! Standard protocol for high-priority drops. Come on, we're double-parked!" He grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly firm, and dragged her towards the plummeting pod. She offered only token resistance, her mind still reeling from Tassio’s desperate sacrifice and Miro’s absurd competence. They dropped into the cabin just as the flagship buckled, structural girders popping like dry timber. Pneumatic clamps fired, kicking the chassis clear into empty salt air. As they free-fell towards the safety of the churning ocean, Nyssa, her knuckles white on the dash, reached into her tactical vest. She pulled out her cracked phone and opened the CourierCombat app.

Mutiny with a Smile