A few days later, the Blue Griffon Fleet came out of their short jump just outside of Hruduk's atmosphere. The Wingspan still had the Shepherd and the Aethercrate hauler attached to its airlocks, and the Halberd and Gladius followed with them.

"Scan for satellites," said Jasken. "An Astralbian blockade means hugger mines."

Mairen nodded. Hugger mines were unmanned dwarf star trees that could be set in orbit around a world to watch for enemy ships. Upon spotting one, it would relay the visual information to the nearest manned star tree, then rush the ship, clinging onto the hull and then detonating.

"Looks like we have something headed this way," said Mairen.

"Mines or our refugees?" asked Jasken.

"They're coming from orbit, not from the surface so probably the former," she answered.

"All Captains, be aware, we've got possible mines incoming," said Jasken into the comms.

"Hey, uh, Admiral?" said a voice over the comms. "This is the Mayblin. Are we allowed to shoot?"

"So long as you only shoot the bad guys," said Jasken.

"Oh, okay, sounds good!"

Jasken rolled his eyes, but couldn't keep a small smile off his face.

Mairen grinned up at him from her station. "Civilians, right?"

Jasken turned his head to his display. The objects were heading for the Gladius, which opened fire.

"They're huggers alright," said Grepk.

"That means we're on the clock, people," said Jasken. "We'll have Astralbians on us at any moment. Have we found our survivors yet?"

"On my way, Admiral," said Hargen over the comm. "We had a couple blown fuses, that kind of thing. Fixed the engines first and got on our way; just finished fixing the comms. ETA five minutes."

"We'll be here, Sergeant," said Jasken.

Another wave of hugger mines came, but the ships were able to shoot them out of the aether with relative ease. Then the first volley of red beams came seemingly out of nowhere, crashing into the Halberd's shields.

"Where did that come from?" asked Jasken, eyes searching his displays.

"Small star tree to our port, Admiral," said Mairen. "Mistook it for a mine."

"I want our guns on it immediately," said Jasken.

"Sergeant Hargen, I've got you on my displays," said Mairen. "Hangar bay doors are open and we've got a place cleared for you to land.

"Much appreciated," replied Hargen. "This ought to be fun."

Landing a personnel carrier in a carrier hangar while in combat was less than ideal, but it was the quickest way to get everyone aboard. It was less finicky than trying to line up airlocks and Jasken had hesitantly decided they'd have to attempt it.

The Army pilot deftly maneuvered the craft into position and prepared to land in the hangar as a larger volley of eye blasts crashed into the fleet.

Everyone from the Mayblin to the Wingspan fired everything they had at the approaching star trees.

"Should we scramble fighters?" asked Hunt.

"No," said Jasken. "This is strictly a smash-and-grab operation. I don't want to have to wait for fighters to come back."

"We're in, Admiral," said Hargen. "The hangar's closing now."

“Gladius, get ready to jump,” said Jasken. “Halberd, cover the Gladius while they prepare and then get out right behind them.”

“Yes, sir,” said Kesht and Grepk.

The Halberd moved into position between the trees and the rest of the fleet, firing everything it had at the enemy.

“You should never have come here,” said a nasally, sneering voice over the public comms. It was the commander of one of the star trees that had begun to gather, ostensibly the largest of them, which appeared to be a mother tree.

“I could say the same of you, you honorless, over-confident fool,” said Jasken. One of the benefits of being officially at war with the Astralbians was being able to drop the facade of diplomacy.

Another volley of eye blasts was the only reply, this time including a shot from a great eye, which slammed into the Halberd.

“Admiral,” asked Grepk, “do you need me to stay and finish this fight?”

“No,” replied Jasken, “get the Gladius out of here as soon as you can. We’re right behind you.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Grepk, his voice thick with conflict. All the same, the Gladius winked out of sight as it began its jump.

The mother tree rotated, revealing another great eye along its trunk. It fired, again hitting the Halberd.

“Woah!” said Kesht. “The feedback from that great eye blast just took out our ripmed system. We’re going to have to see if the techs can fix it.”

“We’ll cover you, Halberd,” said Jasken.

“Only if we can make it quick, Jasken,” warned Kesht.

The tender familiarity of his old friend’s tone caught Jasken offguard. He was right, they couldn’t stay here long, and the Wingspan had civilians and foreign leaders aboard. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up on the Halberd just yet.

“Hugger mines, as you call them, are excellent passive, defensive weapons,” said the Astralbian commander. “But have you ever seen them used offensively?”

A gate opened on the mother tree and a swarm of mines darted out, making a beeline for the fleet.

“Focus all fire on the mines!” shouted Jasken.

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A volley of fire was trained on the mines, but without the fighters having been scrambled there were simply too many targets for the fleet’s guns to destroy.

“Scramble fighters!” cried Jasken.

“It’s too late, Admiral,” said Hunt sorrowfully, watching the display tracking the mines.

He was right. The cluster of hugger mines reached the Halberd and at least a dozen were able to grip the hull, immediately detonating and shaking the ship. When the explosions cleared away, Jasken could see the bent hull panels and the broken, sparking instruments that proved his worst fears. The Halberd was shieldless.

“Huh, funny thing,” said Kesht. “The techs just fixed the ripmed system. Just a thrown breaker.”

“Kesht, get ready to jump,” said Jasken desperately.

“Yes, sir, we’re on it, but while we get ready, I just wanted to let you know: you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known.”

“Kesht, shut up and prepare to jump!” shouted Jasken.

The mother tree rotated lazily, the fire from the Wingspan barely making an impact.

“But you need to loosen up just a bit. Trust the Progenitor more,” continued Kesht. “And you know what? You need to retire, friend. Go sip some rum on some front porch on Griffonia with Ol’ Blue curled up in the lawn. But don’t do this until it kills you.”

The mother tree had rotated far enough now that a third great eye appeared.

“We’re ready to jump, Admiral,” said Hunt soberly.

The great eye flashed, and the Halberd disappeared, replaced instantly by a massive fireball.

“Get us out of here,” said Jasken coolly.

Another wave of mines poured out of the mother tree, but the Wingspan was long gone, shooting through the aether faster than light.

Jasken sat with his head in his hands. He'd lost friends before, but this felt so avoidable. Why hadn't he scrambled fighters earlier? He knew exactly why. He'd made the right decision, but it had cost him more than he'd imagined it might.

Mairen walked up behind Jasken, placing a hand on his shoulder. She half expected him to brush her off, literally or figuratively, but she couldn't stop herself from trying to console the man. To her surprise, he reached up and put his hand on hers.

***

"I don't understand," said Crush. "Why do your, um, distant relatives here think cores don't require other hardware to make a Robot?"

"Because they have a mythology concerning these cores that I have never heard before," replied Yrinla. The two were still standing in front of the Astralbian king and queen and their entourage. "They claim the ancient tree priests would… 'activate' the cores. The races were symbiotic. The 'Coreborn'–that's the best translation I can make of the word they used–were guardians and the Astralbians, or Lightborn, as they call themselves, provided food.

"This relationship was ordained by the god who created the two races. The Coreborn would protect the Lightborn in their time of greatest need.

"However, as the tree priests grew more powerful, they saw no use for the Coreborn. There was a war, and the tree priests used a star-tree-powered explosion to blast a sacred mountain into the sky. The tree priests then left, taking their knowledge with them.

"It was prophesied that the cores launched in that explosion would return one day, and that it would herald that time of greatest need. They believe that is you–and your race."

"That is… a lot to process," said Crush. "I guess it makes sense, or at least it feels right, but–wow. It's a lot to process."

"Can you process it on the way?" asked Yrinla eagerly. "They want to see the core we discovered in the stone."

"That should be doable," said Crush. "The nav data is all on file." She looked over the gathered crowd. "Who's coming with us?"

***

Darvik walked down to the market in the middle of town, just outside the arena. He had grown accustomed to the attention he got around town, but he had developed a reputation for not being much of a talker and people generally left him alone.

He had to make a stop by the butcher and produce stands, and see if there was anything in stock at the liquor stand. The selection had gotten poorer and poorer as the supplies brought along from the more civilized worlds dwindled, though a healthy industry of hunting, gathering, and brewing had already started up.

The economy of Koomia, if it could be called that, was a strange beast. Most of the Koomites were from the Griffon Republic and their wealth was in Republic Platinum, but there were a few Wabuluban Kingdom or PIC citizens and other scattered refugees.

Hoon-Kra had decreed that any currency was acceptable, and had posted the exchange rates when it first became an issue. That had worked for a while, but few people had a way to earn money and Hoon-Kra had also decreed that food would be distributed for free.

Darvik continued to be paid as a soldier out of Hoon-Kra's personal fortune, so he didn't worry too much about the wider view of Koomian economics.

Paying for his goods, Darvik was about to head back when he saw Cevla standing in the corner of the produce stand, gnawing on one of the fruits native to Koomia and staring off into the distance. Against his better judgment, he approached her.

"Cevla," he called, his arms too loaded with groceries to wave.

She turned slowly to him, her eyes hollow, like they were that night in the arena.

"Darvik," she answered in a cold voice. "Do you need something?"

He wasn't sure if he did or not. "Just saying hello," he replied gruffly.

"Hello," she answered, staring at him, waiting for him to make the next move.

"Alright then,” he said uncomfortably. He turned to go, but her hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

"Don't let them get to you," she warned in a whisper, a sudden fire in her eyes. "They got to me, own me now. It's like drowning."

In her fervor, she crushed the remains of the fruit in her other hand and bright red juices ran down to her elbow. As quickly as it began, the outburst ended. The fire faded and the now-familiar hollowness returned to her eyes.

"Oh, well," she continued with a light chuckle. "I'll see you at the arena."

She turned away, taking another bite out of the mangled fruit. Darvik reached out to stop her, then looked up to a source of a sudden noise. A strange shape appeared in the sky, quickly coming closer. It was a ship of some kind, perhaps some exotic foreign model. As it came closer, Darvik realized that it must be an Astralbian star tree. He snarled and reached for his saber.

***

The loss of the Halberd meant that the Wingspan was once again without ripmed comms. The news had clearly disappointed King Hrynkak, but Jasken explained that they anticipated reaching Kirakna in about a week, pushing the crippled fleet as far as they dared. Unable to engage in much diplomacy, the King of Gred had spent the jump so far catching up with Hrake and learning about the inner workings of the Wingspan.

Hrynkak had taken his meals along with his people in the galley, which was now so crowded that meals were being served in shifts.

Talon Squad shared the same meal shifts as the Hrudukite refugees, and had eaten most of their meals with Hrynkak.

"And so little Hrake comes running out of his father's house screaming, 'They're going to eat me, they're going to eat me!’" concluded Hrynkak one day at lunch.

Talon Squad was doubled over laughing at the story.

Hrake smiled and shook his head. "It's all true. But, sadly, those days are gone."

Hrake cleared his plate and left the galley, heading back to his room to rest a while. When he got there, he discovered Zrykyk trying to get past his locked door.

"Uncle," said Hrake flatly.

The decrepit Hrudukite turned, surprise and guilt in his eyes. Though Hrynkak had given his father absolute freedom, Jasken had set a "security detail" on the old despot. Hrake wasn't surprised the wily old villain had managed to slip away from them.

"Can I help you?" asked Hrake at length.

"I wanted to talk with you," said Zrykyk sulkily.

"Here we both are," said Hrake patiently. "Let us talk."

Zrykyk looked at him, eyes burning with a strange fire. "What do you know of your Father's death?"

"He died in battle against the City of Sridek, before the treaties, some ten years ago," said Hrake.

"But who killed him?" asked Zrykyk.

Hrake shrugged. "A Sridekite soldier."

"No," said Zrykyk, eying the hammer slung over his nephew's shoulder. "It was me! My hammer fell him!"

Hrake crossed his arms, looking down on the shriveled former king. "Lies," he said simply. "Hrynkak was there. He told me what you did when he died, which was nearly as evil. You smiled."

Tears welled in Zrykyk's eyes. "Yes! I had dreamed of killing him. When he died, I smiled, because I feared he had designs on my throne! Now, avenge yourself! Kill me!"

Hrake sighed. "Your son has pardoned you. I will not so much as scuff your shell."

"Coward!" spat the old Hrudukite. He fell into a coughing fit, and blood splattered his fist and forearm. He calmed down some. "All I wanted in life was comfort. Now all I want is a warrior's death."

"Few live or die on their own terms," said Hrake.

"The gods returned, only to cast me down and abandon me," said Zrykyk. "I am without friend or god as I prepare to die."

"Look to your son for a friend," said Hrake, "and to the Progenitor as a god."

Zrykyk looked sidelong at him as two Republic sailors came running around the corner. Given the relief on their face when they saw Zrykyk, Hrake realized they must be his security detail.

"Please escort the King's father to his quarters,” said Hrake. "He needs some rest."