A massive entourage of Astralbians, in their ancient and original form, came crawling out of the city gate.

While Crush had no inkling of this particular culture, it was clear that the two individuals being carried on a litter by four other Astralbians were the king and queen.

The guards, holding their staves, surrounded the litter, providing security and an added sense of gravitas to the procession.

The humming, jingling language of the Astralbians emanated from one of the royals, and Yrinla responded in kind.

"What did they say?" asked Crush impatiently.

"The Queen said 'hello.' I responded in kind," said Yrinla. "I promise I will keep you informed, Admiral."

Crush nodded, accepting the gentle chastisement to be quiet as gracefully as she could. The conversation between the queen and the tree priestess went on for some time, and as it did Crush's eyes wandered over the scene.

The gnarled, wooden walls of the city, though sturdy, showed signs of extreme age. Vines grew over various spots and dirt, or discoloration where dirt had once been, was settled deeply into the crevices. The ridges that stuck out the furthest seemed to be smoothed to the point of being almost shiny, as though the elements had been polishing the bark for centuries.

She noticed that a silence had settled over the group, and saw Yrinla staring at her quietly, her hand over her mouth.

"What is it?" asked Crush, feeling as though the whole crowd was staring at her. It may have been, for all she knew; she could not interpret the gestures of the Astralbians in the least.

"Admiral," said Yrinla softly. "Crush. Your core–it's- it's you."

"I'm not following, priestess," said Crush quizzically.

"These people," said Yrinla. "They speak of awaking cores without machinery."

"What?" replied Crush incredulously. "That's impossible. The cores are just part of the circuitry. A necessary part, sure, but…" She found herself lost in thought.

"That is the theory," said Yrinla. "That has been the theory."

***

The jump to Kirakna had all the joviality of a funeral march. Despite routing the Astralbians at Glasaxia, the fleet was still fleeing from the enemy, and it did not sit well with anyone.

Vanbrook continued to avoid socializing to the best of his ability. He would show up occasionally to meals, particularly to breakfast, which served informally as the Squad's daily briefing, but generally remained quiet.

One day, as he walked back to his quarters after leaving dinner early, he heard the distinct footfalls of a Dromean with a prosthetic leg running to catch up with him.

"What's up, Rec?" he asked without turning.

"What did you do this time, Van?" asked Reclan accusingly.

"I don't know!" exclaimed Vanbrook irritably. He rounded on Reclan. "Actually, that's not true. I know full well. I said something stupid. I'm still not sure why it was stupid, but I know it was. That's the way of it. As soon as things start to thaw out between us I say something stupid. Raivyn is amazing, you know that? She's the strongest person I know. No one I've ever met has the integrity and work ethic to match that woman. Beneath all that, once you get to know her, she's–I don't know–there's this… sweetness. But I can't reach it. Because I say–or, worse yet, do–something stupid every time I feel like we're getting close."

Reclan blinked, taken aback. Vanbrook deflated suddenly, the gusto he'd displayed in his response melting away. He turned to go.

"Van," said Reclan softly.

He turned to look at her. She didn't know what else to say. He smiled gently at her.

"It's okay, Rec," he said. "This has never been what you thought it was. Guess it never will be."

Reclan shook her head as Vanbrook walked away. She'd held out hope for the two of them for such a long time.

She turned to go back to the galley. Her unfinished dinner was waiting for her, after all. Rounding a corner, she was surprised to see Raivyn standing in the middle of the hall, a confused look on her face. She looked up and saw Reclan, turned bright red, and hurried past her.

Reclan raised an eyebrow as Raivyn disappeared around the corner, wondering how much she'd overheard.

***

"What are we expecting when we reach Hruduk?" asked Jasken.

"Unsure," said Mairen, shaking her head. "Our fleet on Kirakna sent a scout ship, but it hasn't reported back."

Jasken smoothed his mustache and looked around the table at the gathered officers. Mairen, Dekken, Hunt, and Greizen were all there physically and Kesht had joined on screen from aboard the Halberd.

"That doesn't bode well," said Jasken.

"What about the spy?" asked Kesht. "Any word from our waspherder?"

Mairen shook her head again. "No, but if and when she does check in I doubt she'll have access to much information about the Astralbian presence on Kirakna."

"You don't sound confident in her loyalties, Officer," said Greizen.

"Time will tell," said Mairen.

"That's not our primary concern at the moment," offered Hunt.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Agreed," said Jasken. "It sounds like we'll be flying into hostile territory at Hruduk. What are our options?"

"Our shields are too low to push on to Kirakna without stopping," said Dekken. "Our water supply is alright, though."

"We could stop at one of the other worlds in the system," said Mairen. "There's a couple gas giants we could orbit."

"Will we be able to gather any intel on Hruduk from there?" asked Jasken.

"Not much, most likely," said Mairen. "We can try to watch for activity on the scanners, but it's unlikely we'll get much info that way."

Jasken nodded. "All the same, we can't walk right into the jaws of the enemy. We'll stop at whatever world is closest to Hruduk, gather what intel we can and move on to Kirakna as soon as possible.

"Mairen, let the Wabulubans know what our plans are. They're welcome to join us or go their own way. Dekken, change course accordingly."

"Yes, sir," said the officers.

Jasken nodded and adjourned the meeting. They were close now, but not out of the woods yet. He had a feeling there'd be more trouble before they reached Republic space.

***

The remaining sabreur hissed at Darvik, hanging back. It was smarter than its fellows, all three of whom lay dead on the arena floor, their blood staining his robes and skin.

The crowd cheered him on as he stood patiently, his swordsman's training telling him to wait for the beast to strike first. The sabreurs were deadly fast, but they were ambush predators, not duelists.

The slick, purple biped leapt, its razor-like forearms slashing. Darvik parried the clumsy attack and sidestepped, bringing his blade around in a brutal backhand. The beast tumbled to the ground. Darvik walked up and put his blade through its heart.

A couple of robed Koomites scurried in through the gates into the fenced-in arena to gather the bodies and place them on the idol's pedestal. Darvik wiped his blade clean and walked past them, barely taking notice of the cheering masses in the amphitheater.

"You'll want to stick around for this, Darvik," Hoon-Kra called down from his box as he passed by. "I promise you that."

The high priest waved him up into the box. Darvik nodded numbly and climbed the stairs to join his master.

"Tonight, Koomites, we greet a new champion!" exclaimed Hoon-Kra to the crowd. "Behold one who has communed with the beasts! Cevla!"

Darvik watched with interest as Cevla strode into the arena, dressed in the same robes and face paint that he wore. She looked up at him over her shoulder. Her eyes held neither the haughtiness they had when he'd first met her, nor the mad dreaminess they had after she'd communed with T'Lak. They were simply empty.

On the other side of the arena, four bulky Koomites lugged a crate up to a sliding door. When they opened it, they released five crazed sabreurs into the arena.

They charged together, toothy maws slavering as they tripped over one another to get at their prey.

Just before they were in striking distance, the lead monster jerked to a stop, tripping their companions. Cevla stood, feet spread apart, her hands clenched into fists. The lead sabreur turned suddenly on its erstwhile companions, decapitating one with a brutal strike. Another slashed at it, but it parried the attack and stabbed the attacker through the heart.

The two remaining sabreurs not being puppeteered by Cevla backed away, hissing and brandishing the saber-like claws that jutted out over their claw-like hands. The puppeteered creature thrust out both arms, and Cevla stamped forward, eyes locked onto the monsters. The hapless creatures both flew forward, the puppet's extended blades stabbing them through their hearts. At the same moment, a bright white T-bolt fired from Cevla's forehead, burrowing into the back of the controlled sabreur's skull. All three crumpled to the ground.

Cevla turned from the scene as the acolytes returned to heap the bloody offerings on Koo L'Koom's pedestal. She again looked up at Darvik with hollow eyes. He shuddered and looked away.

***

"Repeat, this is Sergeant Hargen of the Griffon Republic Army. We are stranded on Hruduk in a space-worthy craft with no ripmed capability. We believe the Astralbians have a blockade watching the planet. Please advise or assist as possible."

"How old is this?" asked Jasken. Mairen had just shared the message with him.

"No idea," she said, sitting back and crossing her arms. "It's on repeat."

"Is it legit?" he asked.

"As far as I can tell," said Mairen. "Voice signature matches Hargen and he's using a secure Republic channel."

"Dekken," said Jasken. "How do shields look?"

"Pretty good," answered the engineer. "Everyone's travel shields are at twenty percent or higher."

"Mairen, see if you can get a hold of Hargen," said Jasken.

“Yes, sir,” she answered.

Mairen reached out on the same channel the distress signal had come on.

"Sergeant Hargen, this is the Wingspan. Please respond," said Mairen. She turned off the comm. "And that's the best we can do. With their comms stuck at the speed of light we won't hear back for at least twenty minutes."

Jasken nodded and went to his command chair, trying to busy himself but not wanting to be far if Hargen was able to respond.

“Wingspan!? Am I glad to hear from you guys!” exclaimed Hargen nearly half an hour later.

“Yes, this is Wingspan,” answered Jasken immediately. “Can you fill us in on your situation?”

Another twenty-five minutes passed. Without ripmed comms, it would be a painfully slow conversation.

“Uh, sure,” answered Hargen. “In a word, ‘dire.’ We’ve managed to cobble together an aetherworthy ship, but we’re not sure how quick we’ll get blasted out of the sky if we try and fly it. The Astralbians just attacked out of nowhere, and we haven’t been able to contact anyone since.”

“There was a simultaneous attack against Republic positions from Hruduk to Thioa," said Jasken. "The Republic is officially at war with the Astralbian Empire. We can fill you in on the details later, but for now, let's figure out how to get you off-world."

"Not sure what to say on that, Admiral," said Hargen. "We're not seeing much surface activity, though a couple of star trees landed out by Gred from what our sources there are telling us. Seems highly likely there's a blockade. We could just stay here, honestly. It's a big enough planet and we've got civilians with us who know how to survive on it. But Hrynkak is with us, too, and he wants to meet with other galactic leaders as soon as possible.

"I think our best bet is to fly out to you guys. They're not looking for us so we may well be able to slip past the blockade undetected."

"No, that won't do," said Jasken. "When our shields have had a chance to regenerate we'll send you the time and coordinates and meet you in upper atmo, then jump straight to Kirakna. Providence shine you, Sergeant."

"On you as well, Admiral," came the belated reply.

***

Jylik poured over the reports coming in from across his new empire. The campaign to push the Griffon Republic and their ilk out of the Cornucopia Cluster had gone well, and, if they were still in the vicinity, the Blue Griffon Fleet had gone to ground.

The home front was doing well, also. The reports he'd gotten from the stewards said that the construction of the new stone palace was well underway, and the people had thrown a massive festival to celebrate the new era of the Astralbian Empire. The news of a new empress had reinvigorated the festival and kept it going a few days longer. Ultimately the festivals were shut down and the people sent back to their work.

Trilia entered his chamber. He had not reinstated the old laws concerning entering the same room as the Emperor or any of the thousand other formalities that had bogged down the empire of old, though he had been considering whether they may have some utility.

"My lord," said Trilia as she entered. "I have come to a decision."

"Have you now?" asked Jylik, intrigued.

"Yes. I will have Koomia as my world," said Trilia.

"The world of the cultists?" asked Jylik incredulously.

"They will be my people," said Trilia. "Under your dominion, of course."

"So be it," said Jylik. "You are a shrewd leader, which is why I took you as my empress. I trust you will bring me the Koomites' loyalty, or their heads."