Admiral Jasken, the tall, grizzled, and white-haired commander of the Blue Griffon Fleet, walked through the courtyard of the Depot, the Griffon Republic Military’s joint base of operations. Located just outside Kerucester, the Depot was a massive granite structure that housed the Navy, Army, and Marine Central Command. It had been built as an ammunition depot when the Republic was more a rebellion than it was a republic, fighting against the Astralbian Kingdom's oppressive rule.

High above the courtyard the Griffonian Calvary, an honor guard mounted on griffons, practiced maneuvers. Mostly it was about showing off, which they did well, but the Calvary was as battle ready as any Marine grunts or Naval special squad.

Many years ago, Jasken and Ol’ Blue, his silver-gray griffon, had been part of the Cavalry, and part of Jasken missed it. Being Admiral of an exploratory fleet was a rewarding job, but didn't offer the thrills and relative lack of responsibility of being in the trenches.

Today, however, he had a number of responsibilities to attend to. Most pressingly, he had to go meet with Dekken, his chief engineer, and the other officers of the Blue Griffon Fleet.

The airfield was on the far side of the Depot, surrounded by a tall security fence dotted with watch towers.

The Halberd was the first ship Jasken walked by, its sleek hull and bristling guns gleaming in the sun. The blue and gray shark-like vessel would serve as the fleet’s destroyer for this mission, since the Arrowhead had been lost in the battle for Hittania. At four hundred and fifty feet in length, the Halberd was a bit shorter than its predecessor, but it was that much more maneuverable and, if anything, better armed.

The next ship was the fleet’s medical and support ship, the newly commissioned Shepherd. Like the Halberd, the Shepherd was new to the fleet. The Ferryman had crashed in the same battle that took the Arrowhead, and its remains were still embedded in the nest of a very dangerous kind of social centipede.

The Shepherd, like the Ferryman before it, looked more like a three hundred foot tall tower or a large space station than a ship. About half way up, there was a ring of airlocks coming out of the structure, like spokes. The spokes were connected by a large ring, and each airlock could accommodate a small ship, providing easy access for wounded crew and damaged ships.

The final ship in the fleet, and the largest by far, measuring one thousand feet from prow to stern, was the Wingspan, boasting a fresh coat of royal blue paint with crimson red accents. It was a massive carrier, storing a complement of forty-five fighter craft and two landing shuttles. The vessel carried only slightly less firepower than the Halberd, and the bridge, located in a tower built off to one side of the deck, offered a commanding view of the battlefield from which Jasken could direct his fleet.

“Admiral,” said Dekken, walking down the Wingspan’s gangway. “Thank you for coming to meet with us. Since the expedition begins in just a couple weeks I thought it’d be best if we were all up to speed on the repairs and modifications.”

Jasken smoothed his mustache and looked at the gathered officers. Dekken, a blue-spotted Raki male, led the group, followed by Captain Hunt of the Wingspan, a youthful but insightful Human male who was talking with Captain Fenrik, a Dromean male and the highest-ranking Army officer going on the expedition. He would be in charge of surface operations when establishing bases clayside. After them came Captain Griezen of the Shepherd, a stern-looking Dromean female, and Comms Officer Mairen, a gray-haired Human female with much softer features. Bringing up the rear was the imposing Captain Kesht of the Halberd, another Raki male and an old friend of Jasken’s.

"Gladly," said Jasken in a flat tone. "The old ship looks new from the outside. How are things looking under the surface?"

Kesht couldn't help but smile, his short antennae curving up. He knew Jasken well enough to spot the stifled enthusiasm. The old Admiral had a habit of remaining stoic in front of others, but he knew Jasken was looking forward to the expedition. Jasken was a widower, and his children were grown and scattered across the stars. The man hated to be on the ground any more than was strictly necessary.

"Excellent!" Dekken declared in response to Jasken's inquiry. "I can't emphasize enough how pleased I am with the home crew's work these past few months.

"Ripmed travel is hard on EM shields, so we've upped the Wingspan's travel shields significantly. Since space isn't empty, every ripmed jump means slamming into debris at faster-than-light speeds. We're hoping the advanced shielding will allow us to travel farther and faster while needing less downtime to recharge, though a larger ship like the Wingspan will always require more shielding compared to smaller gunships and the like. Our fission reactor got an upgrade, too, so we should be able to pump more energy into the ripmed drive to generate and harness photons with greater mass for faster travel."

"That’s good to hear," said Jasken with a nod. "The lower officers and crew are going to be here tomorrow. Are the other ships prepared as well?"

"Yes, sir," said Griezen and Kesht in unison.

"Anything to add, Captain Hunt?" Jasken asked the young man.

"No sir, just excited to get underway," he replied.

"Mairen?" Jasken asked the comms officer.

"Comms look good, Admiral,” she declared. “We boosted the signal strength across the board after the many fiascos on Hittania. Hopefully we won't run into that kind of EM interference on this expedition."

Jasken allowed himself a slight, wan smile.

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"If it's not that," he said, "it'll be something else. Captain Fenrik?" He asked, turning to the Army Captain.

"Just waiting on my soldiers, Admiral," said Fenrik. Jasken nodded.

"Everyone go get some rest," said Jasken. "Tomorrow's going to be quite the day."

***

It was late. Actually, it was early in the morning, but Darvik hadn't slept. Much to his chagrin, he was getting more sober by the minute. Life since he'd gotten out of prison had been a drunken blur, and everytime he got sober things just seemed worse than before.

He'd gotten a job at the spaceport loading crates, and it paid well. But the first time someone started a fight with him, he was fired. The jobs got worse after that, and before he knew it he was doing odd jobs for Dewlin, one of the local crime bosses. He already had some connections there, which had only strengthened while he was in prison. He'd tried to straighten things out, but the honest life just wasn't for him.

Then he'd seen the poster. Vanbrook was back. The man who'd gotten him thrown in prison. He didn't realize how much he hated the man until he saw his face on the poster for his exhibition match.

He went home to grab a drink to calm his nerves and mulled over whether he ought to hunt the man down and kill him. In his brooding, he missed a rendezvous with some other boys and Dewlin had him beaten for screwing up the job.

Once again, Vanbrook had ruined his life. Just by showing up. He'd see Vanbrook dead by his hands, he swore it.

"I won't give you anything to drink, but if you head inside I'll get you some breakfast."

The voice shook Darvik out of his musings. He looked up to see Wilbis, looking his way as he threw a bag of garbage in a dumpster. His wandering had brought him to the Feint Heart's back door.

He snarled at the bartender, who shook his head and turned away. Darvik pulled his knife.

***

Vanbrook woke the next day to the sound of his comm going off. He saw it was from Reclan and answered it.

"I don't want to talk about it, Rec," he said.

"Huh?" asked the Dromean. "What, about you storming out of the Heart? Yeah, not why I called. You're late, idiot."

Vanbrook's eyes snapped open. He was due to report in at the Depot in just under an hour. He rushed around his small, dingy apartment throwing on his clothes and trying to wolf down a heat-and-eat breakfast.

Fifty minutes later, he was jogging up to the Depot's front gate, flashing his ID to the guard. A retina scan got him through the gate and he took a hovercraft transit to the airfield where he jogged his way over to the gathered troops, finding his place among them.

The troops stood in neat, organized lines, arranged by branch, which ship they belonged to, and function. The Navy sailors wore double-breasted royal blue shirts, pressed white pants and shining black boots, their hats and insignia denoting rank. The Army uniforms were similar, though the shirts were crimson and the pants black.

They would all don weapons, armor, camouflage and other gear as needed, but these dress uniforms made them an impressive and imposing sight. Friends, families, sweethearts, and patriotic civilians gathered outside the gate waving and milling about.

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?" asked Raivyn, keeping her face straight.

Vanbrook checked the time on his comm.

"I am thirty seconds early," he said with an air of mock indignation as he fell in line next to the psychic. Looking up, his eyes met with Jasken's, and the Admiral shot him a look of mild disapproval. Vanbrook stifled a smirk. The expedition to Hittania has been marred by some less-than-positive exchanges between the two, and Vanbrook had no desire to repeat the experience.

Jasken turned his attention from Vanbrook and scanned the gathered soldiers and sailors. He simultaneously felt an uplifting swell of fatherly pride and a massive weight of responsibility.

"Folks, we are on the eve of an expedition that will not only expand the reach of the Republic; it is also reigniting a piece of our history. On Hittania, we discovered a great relic that had been lost to legend. Shrump the Mad stepped out of Talpidarian folklore, giving us a map to the legendary Cornucopian Cluster.

"Our astronomers pinpointed the part of the galaxy the star map leads to, and it is further than any known expedition has gone. We will hopscotch from planet to planet, utilizing our deep space telescopes to find hospitable planets within range of a ripmed jump, and hopefully find additional settleable planets on our way to the Cluster.

"The first stop will be Kirakna, which according to our sources is where evidence of Shrump's resting place was first found by Admiral Grim of the Ramshackle Collective, some time last year. After that, we will be traveling to a formerly unexplored world neighboring Kirakna, and from there we will search for additional unexplored worlds along the path to the Cluster. You will be briefed on the details on our second destination after we reach our first.

"If it should happen that the Cluster is an invention of Shrump's mind, and the aether we arrive in empty, we will still have achieved a feat of unbelievable patriotic and scientific merit.

"I thank you, both for your performance on Hittania and for your future performance on this expedition. Please follow your COs to your station. May providence shine on us."

***

The Astralbian King held court in the Holy Grove, a copse of massive, moss-covered trees filled with songbirds and dappled with sunlight. Jylik sat in the middle of the Grove, waiting for his father to come and give him an audience. Outwardly, he was calm. Inwardly, he seethed, infuriated that his father made him wait as if he were a petty noble.

The chirping of birds had always annoyed Jylik. He had been to the quiet stone and metal buildings of the biological races, and he thought them a vast improvement on the messy, buzzing, breathing "Holy" Grove.

A sapphire form, dressed in vibrant green robes, walked into the Grove. He wore a silver crown on his head, adorned with the cut and polished death crystals of his predecessors. He was tall, even for an Astralbian, and his chin was square, like a tapered chisel, rather than pointed like most of his kind. In many ways, Jylik and his father looked identical. However, King Hylik’s energy-based form was softened around its crystalline edges, where Jylik’s was still sharply defined, and Hylik’s eyes were a duller, more pastel shade of blue than Jylik’s, which were still deep and brilliant. His father was old and decrepit; he was young and vibrant.

“So kind of Your Majesty to deign to see me,” said Jylik. He hid his contempt well enough to fool most, but not his father.

“Sarcasm is not becoming of a holy king-to-be, my son,” said the old King with a sigh. “It seems I will collapse into my crystal without having raised you to be a proper monarch.”

Jylik sneered internally. He’d be monarch either way.

“Father, I came here so you could tell me why you continue to sink resources into Raelik’s foolish obsession, not to have you insult me.”

“I can do both,” said the King frankly. “Raelik’s foolish obsession, as you call it, is the key to our revival. For well over a century now, the Astralbians have been in decline. If the smallest fraction of the stories are true, the Cornucopia Cluster contains enough resources to rekindle the Empire. It may also be that it holds secrets that even the tree priests do not know.

“Much of what we’ve learned about the Cluster lines up with ancient stories of the Cradle, the region of the galaxy from which the Astralbians first came.”

Jylik scoffed and shook his head. “Surely there better ways to build the empire than chasing such childish-”

“Enough,” said the king. He did not raise his voice, but his tone was flat, final, and brooked no argument. “You let the star map slip from our fingers. You may feel that Raelik got what he deserved in the war for Hittania, but we lost a mighty lord, not to mention many excellent knights, tree priests, and common soldiers because you did not properly back his campaign.”

“You told me to avoid war with the Griffon Republic! How was I to do that and capture the map?”

The king ignored the question.

“The Cornucopia Cluster is our priority. And you are my most capable commander. You will head the search. I look forward to honoring you for your victories.”

Jylik clenched his fist and stalked out of the Holy Grove. The King stood still for a moment, then hung his head in shame and disappointment.