Meanwhile, in another part of the Solar System...
Jupiter. The Roman God of War. Largest planet in the Solar System. A planet of immense majesty and mystery. The sun that failed to ignite. A terrifying, inhospitable place.
Currently it housed Upchuck's pirate fleet.
It had been a long road back for the former terror of the space lanes. Guybrush's treacherous attack had left him crippled, his gang wiped out, his base destroyed.
But it hadn't destroyed him.
With the few pirates that had survived the bomb blast, Upchuck fled. He was smart enough to know he wouldn't be welcome anywhere he went, and that veteran space traders, those he'd terrorized the past few years, would be overjoyed to have a good crack at him. It was time to lay low.
At first the Jovian moon of Callisto had served this purpose well. A rocky, cratered moon, it had been a useful base to launch clandestine raids on trader groups. Keeping their profile low, Upchuck's men had managed to refuel and rearm. Slowly, their numbers grew.
But they flew no organized sorties, nor did Upchuck ever go out on a raid himself. It would not do to have his presence known before he was back to full strength. Only then would he make himself visible: and then, his wrath would be like the fires of Hell.
Soon the pirate fleet had grown large enough that even hiding on Callisto, a moon one ninth the size of Earth, was out of the question. Other settlers were starting to land. Upchuck took his fleet and flew it into Jupiter. There, hidden in the hydrogen and frozen ammonia clouds, his fleet rapidly expanded, free from prying eyes. The conditions were harsh, but not impossible. Specially treated metal could last several decades before freezing. A supersized gantry had even been built. Initially it was just a sturdy docking structure. Now pressurized passages linked every ship to each other. Living quarters were being built. In the Jovian clouds, a city was taking shape.
But for now, everybody still lived and slept on their ship. That included Upchuck, who was in what passed for a good mood for him. Why? They had the Hermit.
Upchuck smiled as he walked the passages of his ship, headed for the brig. Guybrush might have dropped out of sight, but with the Hermit working for them they'd soon have as many of those... 'portal stones', he thought he'd heard the Hermit say... as they needed.
With teleportation technology, they'd truly be unstoppable. If they weren't already.
There was one problem in the way: the Hermit. That is, he was being uncooperative. In the three days since they'd captured him, he'd been subjected to over a dozen interrogations and a couple of torture sessions. Hermit responded to these irritations as if they didn't exist. If you asked him a question he wouldn't even acknowledge your existence. Various torture techniques, those that could make the eyes of the strongest man water, produced no reaction. Upchuck wondered if the man even had any nerves.
He'd been present on six of these sessions, usually as observer. At the end of the fourth of these sessions, as the inquisitors were preparing to leave with appropriate looks of disgust, he'd leaned forward and asked, "Why won't you help me?"
The Hermit looked at him. "You'll never learn the secrets of the Portal Stones." Then he looked away again.
Upchuck had sat in as chief inquisitor on the next session, but the Hermit had reverted to (silent) type. Upchuck got angry, and the session ended with the Hermit's blood on the floor, but even this provoked nothing.
They'd tried everything. Except for Upchuck talking to him, alone. He'd had the idea just two hours ago, and Upchuck felt certain this was the way to success. The Hermit might keep up a successful stony silence, but deep down he wanted to talk. Everyone does, when you dig deep enough.
The brig was a converted storeroom sectioned into six barred cells, with a wide passageway running between them. The Hermit was currently the only prisoner, so as Upchuck opened the outer door, he was greeted with silence. Only to be expected.
Upchuck allowed himself a cheeky little warden's whistle, and strolled down the passage. When he reached the Hermit's cell he stopped dead.
It was empty.