A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 49

“Do you want to be a slave with me, or…”

After the takeoff phase, Mitsuki Nozomi switched the starship to intelligent cruise mode. For the next two weeks, the ship would follow the pre-programmed route toward the Xudian’s hiding place.

Nozomi only needed to handle minor tasks like checking the ship’s status and monitoring weather alerts. Stretching in the pilot’s seat, he turned his head to see Shiraishi Haru’s strikingly handsome profile, a straight, high bridge of the nose, deep-set eyes, and thin, pale lips. It was a sight for sore eyes.

Since they were traveling a long distance, this starship was significantly larger than the one Getsuei Yo used to rescue them. Beyond the cockpit, it contained living quarters like a bedroom and a washroom.

Logically, after a confession, two people trapped in a small starship should have quickly descended into a shameless world for two. However, the way Sentinels and Guides bond meant they wouldn’t just mess around carelessly.

An initial bond is formed by biting the back of the neck, which fades naturally after three months. A permanent bond, however, requires “hitting a home run.” When their bodies reach a state of ultimate harmony, the Sentinel and Guide’s spirits become highly unified. From then on, their mental domains remain wide open to one another, forming the most intimate bond in the world.

Until Nozomi was truly certain he wanted to spend his life with Haru, a Guide wouldn’t cross that sacred line with a Sentinel.

They couldn’t go all the way, but they could certainly experiment with other things.

The Guide’s hand and his spirit body entwined around Haru’s shoulder and arm simultaneously. On one side, the cold, slippery scales of the Black Mamba brushed against the back of Haru’s neck, while on the other, the Guide’s warm hand moved up to touch his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“I don’t think I’ve asked you yet, when you say you ‘need’ me, which kind of need is it?” Nozomi leaned in, breathing suggestively into Haru’s ear.

Stimulated by the alternating sensations of cold and heat, Haru’s breath hitched, and he caught the Guide’s restless hand.

“You…”

Haru opened his mouth to speak, but Nozomi’s fingertip pressed firmly against his Adam’s apple, trapping the rest of the sentence in his throat. At the same time, the Guide’s white teeth nipped at Haru’s earlobe, and the long tip of the Black Mamba’s tail slipped into the Sentinel’s collar.

Haru grabbed Nozomi’s hand and pulled, dragging the mischievous Guide right into his arms.

***

The “beep beep” of an alarm sounded. Nozomi crawled out of bed with messy hair, bleary-eyed and looking miserable. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes closed, fumbling blindly on the bed until he felt the Sentinel’s lean, firm forearm.

There was no sunrise or sunset in space, so the Guide’s sleep schedule had become a mess. Yesterday, he and the Sentinel had experimented with “other uses” for their mouths and tongues, playing games to see how long an A-rank Guide could hold his breath versus an S-rank Sentinel.

From the first sound of the alarm, Haru’s eyes snapped open, as alert as a nocturnal cat. He quietly fished out the terminal that had been buried in the blankets and pressed it into Nozomi’s wandering hand just as it was about to touch something sensitive.

The Guide took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“For heaven’s sake, my mother’s mouth is like a curse, only the bad stuff comes true,” Nozomi grumbled, punching the bed.

The Guide’s terminal was linked to the ship’s primary navigation system, allowing the pilot to monitor the ship’s status from anywhere on board. Haru leaned in, catching sight of several small dots on the screen.

Nozomi explained as he scrambled up, “Space pirates.”

“These guys are a pain. I don’t know what race they are, different races have different styles.” Nozomi’s brow furrowed. “And the scale isn’t small. They aren’t Special Star types, and their performance looks average, but there are a lot of them.”

“The AI broadcast was too late, we’re already surrounded,” the Guide said, his head throbbing.

The AI wasn’t intelligent at all, Nozomi thought bitterly. Why didn’t it wait until they pried the door open before sounding the alarm?

Haru’s face was grim as he pulled two survival suits and necessary emergency gear from the locker.

Nozomi took a deep breath. Having a calm, handsome “mute” like Haru around was actually nice, at least looking at him helped Nozomi keep his cool when he was fuming.

The Guide’s mind raced, searching for a solution. During his service, he’d heard senior colleagues mention space pirates and had memorized the major syndicates during orientation, but he hadn’t encountered them often. As interstellar trade flourished, piracy grew bolder. Special Stars rarely saw them because of their advanced technology.

Nozomi’s mind was spinning, but his hands didn’t stop. He pulled on the survival suit Haru threw his way. It would at least ensure they survived if the hull breached.

He had just finished dressing and hadn’t even reached the cockpit when the ship shuddered, losing its balance. Nozomi lost his center of gravity in the hallway and stumbled. His eyes widened, and he reached out to grab something.

From behind, Haru caught him by the waist, steadying both himself and the Guide.

Through the porthole, they could see several long chains floating in the void. Attached to the ends were black starships with strange protrusions and sharp angles.

“Warning, warning. Please be aware of hull damage,” the system chimed again.

Nozomi leaned against the window, spotting several grappling hooks firmly latched onto their ship. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Using the handrails, Haru and Nozomi made their way back to the pilot’s seats. As soon as Nozomi sat down, he flew through the process of bucking his seatbelt.

The Guide almost wanted to laugh at his own luck.

“Now we have a choice, slow down and stop here, or have them force the hatch open and expose us to the vacuum of space.” Nozomi spoke in a half-joking tone, his hands flying across the control panel. “I don’t know if their species needs oxygen, but we certainly do. For now, ripping the door open probably isn’t their first choice.”

Haru didn’t sit. He gripped the back of the co-pilot’s seat and asked, “What do you want to do?”

Nozomi said with conviction, “They won’t want the valuables inside the ship exposed to the zero-point vacuum either.”

He had just caught a glimpse of the insignia on the enemy ships.

The good news: It was a type Nozomi recognized. The bad news: They were primarily slavers.

“Maybe there’s one more way,” Nozomi whispered, his eyes landing on the faster-than-light (FTL) thrust lever. He gritted his teeth. FTL propulsion was an extreme energy drain, usually avoided for long trips.

In this tense atmosphere, the Guide suddenly looked up at Haru, his eyes full of mischief. “Do you want to be a slave with me, or do you want to take a gamble?”

He sounded like he was trying to seduce the Sentinel into running away to the ends of the universe with him.

“I’ll follow your lead,” Haru said.

Nozomi’s plan was to use the FTL thrust. The instantaneous kinetic energy should be enough to rip the hooks off the hull, though there was a chance the damage would be too severe to continue the journey.

“System, report the locations of hull damage,” Nozomi called out.

“Left chord 1 lower side, right chamber 2 outer wall, lower left chord 3…” The intelligent system droned out the damaged spots.

As luck would have it, one of the pirate hooks was attached to the energy room, right above the ship’s “fuel tank.” Tearing it off would likely leave them with insufficient power.

Nozomi’s fingers blurred as he sent out distress signals, while he sent Haru to pack gear from the weapons locker into the escape pod.

They were so far from Getsuei Yo’s base that even if the message went through, it would take a while for her to receive it, and even longer to mount a rescue. This area was remote.

“There’s one escape pod on this ship. It has enough energy to drift to the nearest planet and sustain us for a month.” Nozomi spoke rapidly. “Once we hit the FTL thrust, we’ll eject the pod. I’ve already sent the SOS to my mother’s base. If our luck isn’t total trash, we should make it home safely.”

“The only problem is…” Nozomi smiled wryly, “FTL thrust can only be activated manually. To prevent accidental voice activation, the ship’s AI doesn’t have the authority.”

Haru thought for a moment and asked, “Can a spirit body do it?”

The Guide’s eyes lit up. Right! Spirit bodies can return to the mental domain instantly without restriction. But his expression quickly dimmed, and Nozomi sighed. “They can, but I don’t think my Black Mamba has enough strength to push it down. Can your Anaconda even fit in the cockpit?”

Haru: “…I can have it try.”

Once they committed to the FTL escape, Nozomi and Haru squeezed into the escape pod. The Anaconda took on the heavy burden of “piloting” the ship with its massive body.

Nozomi ordered the system to keep the cockpit door open. The Anaconda left half its body in the hallway and the other half draped into the cockpit. The Anaconda’s round, dark eyes looked at Nozomi as the Guide seriously explained how and when to push the FTL lever.

“When we’re ready, your master will tell you to pull it. Good luck, I believe in you,” Nozomi said, raising a fist to encourage the snake.

First, the Black Mamba helped Nozomi press buttons, and now the Anaconda was using its “tail” for the thrust lever. The spirit bodies were carrying far too much responsibility.

With a roar and the sound of the ship’s exterior groaning under the strain, Nozomi closed his eyes inside the escape pod, his seatbelt tight.

The vibration from the FTL thrust made the Guide shake. He couldn’t tell if it was psychological or if the pirate hooks had compromised the ship’s structure, but the shaking was exceptionally violent this time.

Nozomi looked like he was calmly arranging everything, but in reality, his decisions carried the weight of both his and the Sentinel’s lives.

Slavers weren’t any better than pirates who just stole cargo or sought “pleasure.” Thieves might be kind enough to leave victims with a tiny bit of energy to drift in a hollowed-out ship, hoping they might reach civilization. Slavers, however, used brutal methods, including physical and mental torture, to ensure their “merchandise” didn’t escape before reaching a buyer.

Haru’s warm hand covered Nozomi’s. The Guide opened his eyes to meet the Sentinel’s gaze. Nozomi bit his lip.

“The Anaconda is back in my mental domain,” Haru’s voice was flat and steady, yet it provided immense comfort.

Nozomi squeezed Haru’s hand back and smiled. “Maybe when we have time later, I should train the Anaconda on how to fly a starship?”

With the inertia of the acceleration, the Guide’s back was pressed hard against his seat. Nozomi frowned as a wave of nausea hit him.

“Escape pod ejection system activated. Countdown: 10 star-seconds,” the system voice recited, forever calm.

Even through the violent shaking that made Nozomi feel like his heart was trembling, he knew it was the vibration of his eardrums making the system voice sound shaky.

“10, 9, 8, 7…”

As the countdown hit zero, the escape pod shot out. Nozomi’s head slammed into the headrest from the force. It felt like being tossed into a tumble dryer. Despite his training, he felt like he was going to vomit.

The escape pod was like a leaf in the darkness of the universe, small and helpless.

When the pod successfully ejected, the Guide thought they had escaped the pirates’ clutches. Unfortunately, Nozomi realized his luck was truly abysmal. The FTL thrust had indeed torn the ship free and launched the pod, but in the end, they were caught anyway. The slavers’ ship intercepted the escape pod.

Nozomi: “…”

It seemed fate was determined to let him and Haru be captured as a pair of miserable “slave birds.”

By the time the pod hatch was pried open, Nozomi had lost his temper entirely.

Along with the light, a piercingly sharp, cold wind rushed into the pod, colder than any temperature Nozomi had ever felt. Fortunately, the survival suits immediately regulated their body temperatures.

“dhvkxefg…”

Nozomi: “?”

The “jackpot.” It was a language he had never heard.

A massive, furry head crowded the hatch. The slaver looked like the legendary Yeti, with long white fur stuffed into its clothes. However, the skin on its face was black, and its features were so flat it looked like it had been punched inward, creating a concave look. It wasn’t exactly pretty.

Nozomi recalled a creature from a permafrost world. The white fur was for camouflage in the snow, and the black skin was for absorbing heat to conserve energy. If he wasn’t the one being kidnapped, Nozomi might have found the slaver’s fluffiness almost cute.

But now, with no common language, no known destination, and an unclear motive, they were in a stalemate.

Without much hope, Nozomi whispered to Haru, “Have you heard this species’ language before?”

Haru: “No.”

The internal communication in their survival suits was still working, so they could speak freely.

The slaver turned and shouted a string of gibberish that Nozomi couldn’t understand, beckoning another identical creature over. The Guide hurriedly operated his terminal in secret, analyzing the atmospheric content and coordinates while attempting to have the terminal crack the language.

Nozomi was relieved that the species used spoken language. He knew of many races in the universe that communicated via brain waves or ultrasonic frequencies, which would have made things impossible.

The good news was that these slavers didn’t seem to be the type to immediately mistreat their captives. Nozomi and Haru were simply bundled up and thrown into a prison.

When the “White Monsters” the nickname Nozomi gave them, reached out to grab them, Nozomi held back the Sentinel who wanted to resist. These two monsters were nearly four star-meters tall and massive. Seeing that the Sentinel and Guide weren’t fighting back, their movements remained relatively gentle.

Humans really weren’t a very intimidating species in the grand scheme of the universe, and their adaptability was poor… of course, that excluded Sentinels.

Nozomi guessed that since the White Monsters had gone through the trouble of capturing “trophies,” they wouldn’t let their fragile prizes break right away.

Thus, Nozomi and Haru were tied up and tossed into a cell. The prison was primitive, made of stakes driven into the ground and covered with a brown insulating material Nozomi didn’t recognize.

The monsters weren’t gentle when throwing them in. Nozomi rolled across the uneven floor, the ground poking his arm through the suit. He hissed in pain and sat up.

Haru glared at the departing figures for a few seconds. Nozomi wondered if he was memorizing their features, though to Nozomi, the White Monsters all looked exactly the same.

A startled cry interrupted Nozomi’s thoughts. He looked back and suddenly felt a bit of grim amusement.

The universe was really full of “old friends,” he thought. Well, not exactly close friends, but in a place like this, anyone you recognized qualified as a “dear old acquaintance from home.”

“How is it you two!” The other person’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their head.

“Hello there, Young Master,” Nozomi said lazily, leaning against Haru with his hands tied behind his back as he greeted Mu Xiabing. “And you too, the person next to him whose name I don’t know, the Young Master’s nanny. Hello to you as well.” Nozomi nodded toward the young man standing behind Mu Xiabing.

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