The nine prisoners were kept in a single, large cell with a lone window that looked over the arena. The cell was, like most Astralbian architecture, naturally grown wood, hardened and resin-coated. Everyone had been fitted with living collars that worked both as T-blockers and EM sensors, and were capable of delivering a nasty bioelectrical shock if they sensed T-waves or an EM surge. D'Jarric had tried blasting the door down, but before the energy had gathered around his fists he was on the floor, thrashing violently.

"What do you think they'll kill tonight?" asked Reclan, looking out the small, barred window.

Talon Squad and the RTS agents had been imprisoned on Gateway for two days now, and both nights the Koomites had held ritual combats, killing spider apes or rebel Shairet soldiers before Emperor Jylik and a crowd of cultists and Astralbians. They had heard the Emperor speaking from above them; evidently the prison had a royal box on top of it. He often offered words of congratulation to the bloody victor as the cultists placed the losers' bodies on the altar of Koo L'Koom.

"I don't know, Rec," said Vanbrook. "Maybe it'll finally be, y'know, us."

"I think I should take another shot at blasting through the doors," said D'Jarric.

"Are you even fully recovered from the last time?" asked Trebor doubtfully.

D'Jarric shrugged. "I hate to give up."

"I think it's time we did, or at least tried another strategy," said Vanbrook, looking over at Raivyn.

The psychic had spent the better part of the past three days sitting cross-legged in the corner, trying to communicate with her collar without earning herself a shock. So far she had been unsuccessful, taking a small shock on more than one occasion.

"I'm not giving up, either," she said, looking up at Vanbrook with tired, haggard eyes.

Vanbrook nodded grimly. "Sorry, you're right. You're our best shot, Rai."

"Don't think I haven't been trying," said Yellup. "I haven't managed to figure anything out, either, other than how to get shocked."

The Wabuluban psychic rubbed his forehead where the insectoid collar had been fastened since he lacked a neck.

"As long as we're giving updates, how are you doing, Doc?" asked Vanbrook.

The Robot shrugged. "I dunno. I'm a bio-medic, not a mechanic."

"He'll be fine," sighed Winnow in exasperated tones. "He got pretty shook up in the landing but even without proper tools I got everything back where it's supposed to be. Mostly."

"I am also doing fine," offered Hrake.

"Thanks buddy, good to know," said Vanbrook, slapping the massive Hrudukite on the shell good-naturedly.

When the sky had darkened and the torches had been lit down in the arena, there was a banging on the door.

"Everyone to the back wall!" came the now-familiar voice of the guard assigned to their cell.

"It's not meal time," said Reclan, looking nervously at Vanbrook.

"Shut your slobbering mouths and get to the back wall!" shouted the guard.

The prisoners obeyed. The door opened and the guard walked in. He was an Astralbian soldier with a wide chin and a notably arrogant air, even for an Astralbian. He had been the one to deliver meals, usually escorted by two additional heavily armed guards. This time, however, a squat, warty Krauqian with his own air of arrogance joined the guard.

"That one," said the Krauqian, pointing at Hrake.

"You're Hoon-Kra, I take it," said Vanbrook. "Your file doesn't do you justice. You're far uglier in person."

"You'll have your turn, Vanbrook," chortled Hoon-Kra. "But today it's his turn." He pointed towards Hrake again.

Hrake stepped forward. "I do not fear your trials or your god."

Hoon-Kra chuckled and turned, letting the guard and his goons escort Hrake out.

The eight remaining prisoners struggled to find space for all of them to watch as Hrake was led out into the arena, his collar having been removed. His hammer rifle had been left in the middle, and he casually walked over, grabbed it, took aim above the tower and fired. There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

"I salute your boldness," came the Emperor's voice from somewhere above the cell. "But I assure you that the shielding and T-blocking we have in place will keep your attacks contained inside the arena. And I keep the controls close at hand."

The crowd cheered and laughed. Hrake looked up at the Emperor and smiled a warm, dispassionate smile. Vanbrook wondered if the Emperor could perceive the killer lurking behind that smile.

A gate somewhere below the prisoners' cell shuddered open and a group of five spider apes charged out, running full tilt towards Hrake. He stood with his hammer over his shoulder, heaving it up at the last second and bringing it in a terrible arc that decapitated one ape and sent the others tumbling. A stream of webbing came from one of the ape's chins, forcing Hrake to dodge. He rolled away, shouldering his hammer and firing off a shot that downed the would-be net-thrower and quickly adjusting his grip to intercept the other three apes. A smile crept onto his face.

"I believe that lunatic is enjoying himself," noted Trebor.

"He is good at what he does," answered Vanbrook.

Hrake quickly dispatched the final three spider apes, and lifted his hammer above his head in victory. He was ordered to lay down his hammer, and he obeyed grudgingly. Moments later he was brought back up to the cell.

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"To the back!" shouted the guard. The nine lined up against the back wall.

"You next," said Hoon-Kra, pointing to Winnow.

"I am Agent Winnow's superior," said Trebor. "I demand to know what she is being taken for. If it is for execution, I demand you take me inst-"

Trebor's words were cut off as Hoon-Kra dragged him forward telekinetically, stopping him just at arm's length and slapping him across the face. Trebor stood rigidly, Hoon-Kra clamping him in place.

"You'll demand nothing, witch hunter," said Hoon-Kra, venom dripping from his words. "You and your 'agents' will die at my pleasure."

He pushed Trebor back to the wall and then released him, watching with satisfaction as he crumpled to the ground.

Winnow stepped forward silently, patting Trebor on the shoulder as he stood up. She walked out with Hoon-Kra.

***

Jasken paced the bridge of the Wingspan nervously as he waited for Agent Chully to receive his comm. The ship was making its way to Gateway, and Jasken wanted the most up-to-date information possible concerning the various factions at play. The Wabulubans had agreed to bankroll the FRF, and they planned to rendezvous with them via comms just outside of Gateway. The hope was that they would be able to flank the Astralbians and the Collective, catching them off guard and making for a quick, decisive victory.

Chully appeared on Jasken's screen. "Admiral. How can I help you?"

"I wanted to know if you had any updates since we made our jump," said Jasken.

"Nothing important enough to reach out about," Chully assured him.

"Any information on Talon Squad?" asked Jasken.

"Your spy reached out," answered Chully. "The wasp rider. She said they said a number of prisoners were brought to Gateway and taken to a prison adjacent to some kind of Koomite arena. The descriptions match our people."

"What about Lord Wyven?" asked Jasken.

Chully shrugged. "He's taken command of the Astralbian POWs, keeps them organized and well-behaved. There's no love for the ‘Emperor’ to be found there, but he's not exactly been forthcoming with any usable intel."

"Okay," said Jasken. "Just, uh, keep me posted please."

Chully smiled. It wasn't an altogether unfriendly smile. "You got it, Admiral."

***

Trebor watched in silent intensity from the cell window as Winnow walked out into the arena.

"And now, the first of two grudge matches planned for tonight!" announced Hoon-Kra from the royal box. "Our own psychic champion against one of the hate agents of the so-called Republic Telepathic Services, or as you know her to be, a witch hunter!"

The crowd booed loudly. Winnow stood unmoving. A tall human female walked out into the arena, and the crowd cheered.

"Cevla," muttered Trebor. "This… this is bad."

Winnow's built-in guns had been removed, and her short sword was the only weapon laying out for her to use in the arena.

Cevla continued to approach, and Winnow raised her sword and charged. The two had nearly met when Cevla stopped suddenly and thrust out her chin towards the Robot. The massive surge of T-waves blasted Winnow backwards. She flailed for a moment before landing hard on the dirty arena floor.

"Winnow is strong," said Trebor. "She's quite capable of resisting telepathic attacks on her mind. There's little she can do against telekinesis."

The scene replayed itself two more times, and Winnow was a little more haggard each time. Finally, she threw her sword end over end, hoping to catch Cevla off guard. Instead, Cevla caught the blade in midair with her mind, tilting it off course and sending it in a wide arc behind her, slinging it back at Winnow with devastating speed. The blade tore through Winnow's shoulder, tearing her arm clean off and staining the ground with oil. The fight didn't last long from there. Cevla dismantled her opponent with a crushing barrage of telekinetic waves, finishing the fight by pulling the sword back up out of the clay and bringing it through Winnow's head from behind. The Robot collapsed to the ground. Trebor sank from the window as the crowd cheered.

Cevla made her way up to the royal box, passing Hoon-Kra on her way up. The High Priest was smiling wickedly and wielding a large mallet. When she reached the box, she saw Darvik standing next to the Emperor and Empress, his eyes clear and his jaw set. She turned her attention back to the arena, where Hoon-Kra had placed Winnow's core on the altar.

He raised the mallet above his head and brought it down in a vicious strike. Cracks appeared in the core, and the crowd roared its approval. He brought the hammer down again and again until finally the cracks spread far enough that the crystalline orb fell apart into two pieces, which wobbled lazily back and forth for a moment before coming to a final rest. The crowd lost its mind in wild cheering.

***

"I still don't understand why we're leaving so much of the Fleet behind," said Hacksaw. He'd become far more upfront with his disagreements since Tank had died. Crush turned to him from where she stood on the deck of the Liberty.

"Because," said Crush patiently, "we exposed the Astralbians on Cradle to galaxy-wide attention. We owe it to them to keep a token force of defenders and translators at their disposal."

"Are we mercenaries or not, Admiral?" demanded Hacksaw.

Crush stepped towards him menacingly. "We are what I say we are. If you don't like it, you are free to leave the Fleet."

"This Fleet is all I have," said Hacksaw, standing down. "I'm just not sure what it is anymore."

"I know, Hack," said Crush, more softly now. "I'm trying to figure that out, too."

***

"To the back wall!" came the familiar shout. When the door opened, the eight remaining prisoners obeyed. The mood was grim and deadly. D'Jarric straightened up and threw a fist forward suddenly, and a bright bolt flew from his fist even as his living collar delivered an excruciating shock that sent him to the floor. The shot was straight and true, colliding with the wide chinned guard and immediately reducing him to a death crystal. D'Jarric fared slightly better, and lay twitching and sparking on the floor, his form taking on a duller hue than Vanbrook had ever seen on the Solaran before.

The two guards helping keep watch leveled their thorn guns, but Hoon-Kra waved them off, laughing.

"Nice trick, Solaran, but I dare say you won't be repeating it again soon. Lucky for you, I have more interesting duels in mind for tonight." He pointed at Vanbrook. "You. You're next."

Vanbrook stood up, stalking silently towards Hoon-Kra.

"Ah, just one thing," said Hoon-Kra, grabbing something from beneath his robe. "A little medicine."

With that, he jammed a needle into Vanbrook's neck, causing the swordsman to cry out in pain and shock.

"Vanbrook!" shouted Raivyn.

"Don't worry," said Hoon-Kra said mockingly. "It won't kill him. It will give his opponent a bit of an edge, though."

"I've got this, Rai," said Vanbrook. "I'll be back to get you out of here shortly."

Hoon-Kra laughed as he escorted Vanbrook down to the arena.

***

In the royal box, Cevla looked at Darvik. He had a look of intensity on his face, but his thoughts were impenetrable. At least, they would have been to almost anyone else. She gently looked into his mind, treading cautiously, knowing she was trespassing. A psychic could read minds without permission, but not without being noticed. He looked over at her, not saying a word.

"Good luck, Darvik," she said aloud, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Jylik looked over and snorted with disdainful amusement but said nothing. Hoon-Kra entered the box, not having seen the exchange.

"Darvik!" he cried. "My champion swordsman! To the arena with you!"

Darvik nodded silently, bowed to the Emperor and Empress, and walked down to meet Vanbrook.