Jasken was fuming when Hunt called him from the bridge.

“Admiral, we have an incoming message; it’s from the Ramshackle deserter.”

“Okay,” said the admiral, composing himself. “I’d better talk to her. I’ll be right there.”

He marched to the bridge. Hittania was similar in mass to Griffonia - and not too different from Talpadaria or Aerat, for that matter. Generally, the Republic looked for planets that had a mass similar to Griffonia which had been chosen as the Republic’s home in part because its mass was similar to the home worlds of Talpadarians and humans. Even so, it felt strange to walk in the full gravity of Hittania, instead of relying on mag-boots to stay connected to the deck, especially since he was still on the Wingspan.

Walking onto the bridge, he nodded to Hunt. Crush stood facing him, staring at him through the display screen. Jasken stood behind his chair, facing the screen, arms behind his back.

“Admiral Jasken,” said the robot stiffly but not impolitely. “It is good to talk to you face-to-face, as it were.”

“Crush, is it? Same to you.”

“Admiral Crush, now. Of the Free Revolutionary Fleet,” she said. After a pause, she added, “The name is a work in progress.” Jasken nodded. “Admiral Crush, then. Congratulations on your new fleet.” Pausing to smooth his mustache, he continued. “The information you provided us proved incredibly valuable, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you an additional favor.”

“The FRF is happy to help a friend,” she replied in the same stiff voice.

“Are you able to transmit messages faster than light?” Crush shook her head.

“Unfortunately, none of my ships are equipped with FTL communication. And our ripmeds were remotely disabled by the Collective. The Reaper has a failsafe allowing it to do so in case of theft.”

“Hmm. That leaves us no better off than before, save having a few more friendly ships in the vicinity. Tell me, what kind of relationship would the FRF like to have with the Griffon Republic?”

Crush shifted her weight as she weighed her response. She’d talked with her captains about it, she’d thought it through, but committing to a path by saying it aloud to a Republic admiral was a big leap.

“We would like to ally with the Republic as privateers,” she said with an air of confidence.

Jasken frowned thoughtfully. "I'm afraid the Griffon Republic doesn't commission privateers," he said at length.

Crush's metal face was, of course, stoic and unchanging. Her body, however, seemed to collapse under a great weight. Her shoulders fell, and she fell back into the chair she stood in front of.

"What have I gotten myself into, Jasken?"

The Admiral didn't chide or balk at her informality. He smiled gently and laughed lightly.

"I really don't know, Admiral," he said, shaking his head. "I've always been following someone's orders, had a course laid out for me. You seem to be looking for something different. Forget the FRF for a moment. What is it that you want out of all this?"

Crush paused. The answers came in fragments, and she'd have to sort them out later. She stood back up and set her shoulders straight.

"For the time being," she said, "we are sailors caught in the same storm. I suggest we work side by side as the need demands it."

"That will do for now," said Jasken seriously, "but as it stands we owe you a debt. Have your engineers send us detailed information about the failsafe on your ripmeds. If there is any expertise or material we can provide, we will do so. Providence shine on you, Admiral Crush."

"Good luck, Admiral Jasken."

With that, the conversation ended. Jasken was left with a lot to think on. A newly formed faction of former pirates made for volatile allies, and he would have to be cautious in dealing with them. Of course, Vanbrook had also just stolen a hover bike and rode off to his death on it. Never a dull moment, he thought to himself.

Jasken headed to the stables. Now that he was planetside it would be good to get Ol’ Blue out into the fresh air.

***

Vanbrook's bike tore down the mountainside road. The Astralbians had set up a roadblock, but Vanbrook swung out around it, dipping into the forest, firing solar crystal blasts from his revolver into the guards posted there. The roadblock was designed to stop large vehicles and groups, not a single bike, and they were soon left in the dust, desperately calling their comrades to warn them of the madman headed their way.

A significant Astralbian force was waiting for the hoverbike where the mountainside road met the camp. But the bike never came. Vanbrook had veered into the woods and slowed down to a point where the propulsion system was nearly silent. He parked the bike and slipped in past the guards who were too busy watching the road to notice him.

He snuck to the mother tree, climbed the side of the ramp leading to the front door and pulled his saber. He energized the metal blade with a buzzing electricity and severed both guards heads with a single, brutal strike.

He put his hand to the outer door, but it didn't respond. He punched the wooden maw, but nothing happened. Then he heard voices from inside and the door snapped open. The guard who opened the door took a pistol blast to the face, popping him out of existence.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

More guards swarmed in, and Vanbrook began dispatching them. He slashed out with his sword, taking down a guard, and blocked an energized mace of some kind with his energy buckler. Then another swing from an unseen guard behind him connected, the blunt force of the blow accompanied by a shock that traveled through his whole body. He cried out and went to one knee, turned and paid the guard back with a well-placed shot from his revolver.

Then he felt it; the cold, foreign presence in his mind, causing him to panic at the memory of their prior encounter up north. It felt like fingers made of ice ripped back the top of his skull and stabbed into his brain. He fought back, trying to force Traelby out, but the fingers stabbed harder, and Vanbrook crumbled to the floor, holding back the sobs that threatened to take away any dignity he had left.

A sneering voice called out, "Don't kill him, I have unfinished business with this one."

Traelby smiled at Vanbrook from across the room.

***

One cavernous floor below, Raivyn had been lying on the floor, staring at the black ceiling. Jacrill had wailed like a baby for over an hour, making it hard to concentrate. Crying was one of the things that the Astralbians had adopted from their biological subjects during the days of the Empire. In fact, the Astralbians had adopted more than they would freely admit. At first only a few had taken humanoid form, as opposed to the strange, shifting crystal shapes they appeared as naturally. But the form proved useful, and more and more Astralbians adopted it. Now they often spent their entire lives mimicking a human-like form, though most would not admit they were copying their lessers in doing so. Eventually the crying stopped, and Raivyn found herself able to focus.

She reached out psychically, feeling for the presence of the tentacles. Now and again she could feel a twitch of nerves up in the darkness, proving that the prison wasn’t fully shutting down her powers. Eventually a mental map of the tentacles formed in her mind. She wasn’t able to communicate with the tentacles, but she could make out where they were. Inspiration struck.

Standing up, she walked boldly to the edge of her cell, tempting the tentacles to strike. She could feel the nervous impulse and threw up her hand, catching the tentacle as it swung towards her and sending T-waves up through the nerves of the vine-like limb, reaching out to the creature’s brain, or what passed for it. It was strange, dispersed, and incoherent. An unnatural, diffuse animal mind. She sent gentle, soothing thoughts into it. It prickled against her at first, then gave way. It had never known anything like peace; it was tortured and made to torture, a creation of the tree priests with no sense of place or meaning in the world. It relented, and let Raivyn pass out of her cell.

“What was that?” asked Jacrill’s shrill voice. Raivyn didn’t respond, trying to make her way silently to the stairs that lead out of the dungeon.

“Guard!” cried Jacrill.

“Shut up down there!” shouted a voice from beyond the door.

“Watch your tone!” Jacrill crowed.

The guard opened the door, brandishing a club and shouting, "I said-"

Raivyn leapt up from where she sat by the door, grabbed the guard by the shoulders and shot a fatal bolt of concentrated T-waves into his face. She could hear Jacrill cursing and wailing as she threw the guards' clothing down the stairs and scooped up his club and thorn gun.

Above the dungeon, Vanbrook was curled on the floor, pain racking his body, as Traelby looked on in sadistic pleasure. Vanbrook was focusing on silence, refusing to give Traelby the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Traelby felt the resistance and was focusing on trying to crush it when he felt a dozen or so sharp points press into the back of his head.

Raivyn had activated a perception bubble and snuck up behind the knight, catching him and his soldiers off guard. She pressed the thorn gun into Traelby's head.

"Let him go or die," she said, her voice cold and smooth as polished steel. Vanbrook uncurled on the floor and staggered to his feet.

"We're going to leave, and none of you are going to stop us," she continued. One daring soldier raised his own thorn gun, but his hand was severed with a sudden stroke of Vanbrook's sword. He cried out and gripped the sparking stub of his arm. No one else moved. A beat passed.

"By the ancestors, just do what they say!" shouted Traelby in furious frustration. The three stepped down out of the mother tree, Vanbrook watching the soldiers and Raivyn focusing on Traelby.

Silence filled the clearing as Vanbrook led them to the treeline. Raivyn backed towards the trees, still holding Traelby's collar and pressing the gun to his head.

"Where are the others?" asked Raivyn, coolly.

"Just me," responded Vanbrook, not wishing to elaborate.

"Just y- this isn't an authorized mission, is it!?" Raivyn shook her head angrily,."Well, where's the ATUC?"

"Brought a bike, actually."

"A bike!? Well, won't that be cozy!"

"Look, I needed something fast!" protested Vanbrook.

"Well, you're riding on back!"

"Oh, you two are just adorable," sneered Traelby.

"She will kill you out of spite, man," said Vanbrook.

Just before he was safely obscured in the brush, a shot came from one of the star trees, grazing Vanbrook's left shoulder. He cried out and dove into the trees.

Raivyn shoved Traelby to the ground and ran into the woods behind Vanbrook, who was back on his feet and running. The brush lit up with bolts from the star trees. Thankfully the Astralbians were firing blind, and Vanbrook broke off to the south, leading Raivyn away from the onslaught and towards the bike.

Vanbrook could hear Traelby shouting orders in the distance as he reached the bike. His injured arm hanging limp, he made a mocking flourish with his good arm as he stood aside and gestured to the seat. Raivyn rolled her eyes and jumped on, Vanbrook followed and wrapped his good arm around her.

Riders on void wasps came crashing through the forest, but Raivyn zipped through the trees, making good progress to the south. The hoverbike was faster than the wasps by a good margin, and after dodging a few wild shots they left them far behind. Raivyn angled back towards the road.

They hit a rough bump in the road and Vanbrook threw his injured arm around Raivyn for balance. She looked down at his arms, annoyed.

"I take it your injury isn't too bad?" she asked over the helmet comms. Her voice held no warmth in it. Vanbrook let his injured arm hang limp again.

"No," answered Vanbrook. "Not too bad. Burns like you wouldn't believe, but I'll be fine." She nodded.

"Sorry I didn't bring something, uh, roomier," he continued. "I was in a bit of a rush." She nodded again, and they rode on in silence, until Raivyn had the presence of mind to call Fort Bog Iron. When they reached the Fort, a crowd had gathered, clapping and cheering. The remainder of Talon Squad stood with them, running to their squadmates when the bike came to a stop. The cheering died off slowly and Doc began inspecting Vanbrook's wound.

Complete silence fell over the crowd when they saw Jasken strolling towards them, arms behind his back.

"Raivyn," he said, "it does my heart good to see you back safely. Doc, please see to it that she gets some rest and any medical attention she may need." The warmth drained out of his tone as he turned to Vanbrook and said, "I'd like to have a word with our hero."