Vanbrook stood in the middle of the arena, the familiar weight of his saber a welcome feeling in his hand.

The drug that Hoon-Kra had given him threatened to cloud his mind. If he focused, he could clear his thoughts, but he couldn't beat back the mental effects of the drug and concentrate on a duel. He was a dead man.

Darvik walked out of the gate that led up to the royal box. It wouldn't be right to say that Darvik's appearance shocked Vanbrook. He expected the man to be his cultist opponent. Still, it shook him to the core to see the man, his face painted with a garish shark maw, walking towards him, sword drawn. In some ways, he'd been looking forward to this moment.

***

Darvik almost stumbled when the gates opened and he locked eyes with Vanbrook. Why Vanbrook, of all people? He was tired of the Koomite charade. He was tired of spilling blood on someone else's behalf. On his own behalf, too. Why did he want to kill Vanbrook again? He had wanted to very badly in a past life, he knew, but he had lost the thread somewhere along the way.

***

Vanbrook raised his saber defensively.

"Alright you booze-guzzling murderer," said Vanbrook. "Let's end this."

***

Darvik felt the old familiar flame of hatred. He charged.

***

Vanbrook parried the blow, but his reaction was sluggish. Darvik followed up with another attack, and Vanbrook rallied, the adrenaline giving him a bit of his edge back. The sudden burst of energy caught Darvik by surprise, and Vanbrook pressed his advantage, energizing his blade and swinging it in a whirling arc. Darvik held his own, his guard impassable.

"Pretty good, for a drunk," spat Vanbrook, tearing Darvik's sleeve with a thrust that was barely deflected in time.

A sudden wooziness overtook Vanbrook and he jumped back, hoping some distance would be enough of a shield for the wave to pass before he was run through.

"I'm recently sober, actually," said Darvik.

Vanbrook laughed, barely slapping aside a deadly thrust.

"That's a twist," he said. "You're sobered up and I'm drugged."

Darvik stepped back. "What?"

Vanbrook stepped forward and made a vicious stab. It was high and wide, and Darvik's hasty defense pushed the blade only far enough away that he received a small cut to the cheek. Vanbrook had over extended and stumbled, giving Darvik an opening. He didn't take it.

"Don't play dumb," said Vanbrook. "I'm sure that goon you call a priest drugs all your victims."

Darvik charged his opponent, bringing their blades together and pressing in so his face was inches from Vanbrook's.

"I don't care if you believe me, hate me, want to kill me, whatever," said Darvik. "I get it. But what comes next requires you to work with me, or we both die."

Darvik pushed Vanbrook, sending him tumbling to the ground below the royal box. The duelist-turned-murderer-turned-cultist-turned-he-knew-not-what looked up at Cevla, his eyes serious and pleading.

She nodded, a smile creeping into her face for the first time since she'd been afflicted by T'Lak. Darvik stalked slowly towards Vanbrook, as if toying with his prey. Cevla turned casually while everyone else in the box watched the duel intently, and looked at the strange, biological control panel that sat by Emperor Jylik's hand. She concentrated on it, creating a bubble of T-waves at the core of the device. She ripped the bubble apart, tearing the device to pieces from the inside. Viscous yellow-green gore exploded inside the box.

***

Raivyn watched in horror as Vanbrook tumbled to the ground. It was clear his skills were dulled and getting rapidly worse.

Then something strange happened. Insteading leaping on Vanbrook like the feral killer she had known him to be, Darvik looked up somewhere above her cell, a pleading look in his eyes. Then he turned his attention back to Vanbrook.

Raivyn was so caught up in the moment she didn't notice the once-living collar slip from her neck, dead.

"Get back," said D'Jarric.

"No," said Raivyn. "I - I have to see this."

Gently but firmly, Hrake took her arm and moved her away from the window. D'Jarric blasted it open, the smoldering hole large enough for even Hrake to walk through. Beyond any explanation Raivyn could conceive of in the moment, the team's weapons tumbled from up above, falling to the arena floor.

"We're on," said D'Jarric, a wild smile on his face.

***

"Th-the shielding!" exclaimed Jylik. "The prisoners' collars! How did they do it?"

"We must kill them all at once!" declared Trilia, rising from her seat.

Cevla pushed the Empress back down with a telekinetic attack, then took the crate containing the prisoners' weapons and tossed it into the arena.

Trilia rose, eyes burning with murderous rage. Cevla smiled broadly.

***

Vanbrook heard a commotion above where he laid and looked up to see a crate and a number of rather familiar weapons falling from the sky. He rolled out of the way, his head nearly crushed by Hrake's hammer. Next he saw a large form leap from the prison cell, and he had to roll out of the way of Hrake himself.

"What is going on!?" roared Vanbrook as his allies continued to rain from the sky.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I know you said you'd come back for me," said Raivyn, slowing her descent telekinetically and landing with perfect poise, scooping up Vanbrook's revolver and handing it to him, "but I got tired of waiting."

Reclan landed by them with a thud. She scooped up her rifle and stood at the ready. Doc followed after, grabbing his gun as well. D'Jarric came down last of Talon Squad, shining like a star, his fists pulsing with energy. Trebor and Yellup followed Talon Squad's lead.

"So this is how we go out," said Vanbrook. "Not a bad way to go."

Darvik stepped over to the group hesitantly. "It's all about to get real crazy real fast. Most of the crowd is lightly armed but -"

The first thorn gun went off, splintering the wall between Vanbrook and Raivyn's heads. Vanbrook returned fire, his nova crystal round going abysmally low, blowing a hole in the ground at the guard’s feet.

Reclan rolled her eyes. "Well, just make sure you don't put a round in one of the good guys."

Raivyn put up a telekinetic shield, with Yellup helping to reinforce it.

"Now what, genius?" asked Reclan, staring daggers at Darvik.

"Hey, you guys are the experts," said Darvik defensively.

Reclan spread her arms out, gesturing to the chaos erupting all around them. "They didn't cover this in basic!"

***

Trilia struck out with a vicious telepathic attack to subdue Cevla, but Cevla’s defenses were as nimble as they were strong, and she squashed the attack with a defensive burst of T-wave interference. Jylik saw his way out of the box as quickly as possible.

Cevla struck out suddenly with a knife pulled from under her robes, slashing through one of Trilia’s eyes. The enraged Empress shoved Cevla clear out of the box with a sudden and violent telekinetic push, then jumped out behind her, chasing her to the area floor.

Hoon-Kra surveyed the scene briefly. “Not exactly what I had in mind, Darvik, but it will have to do.”

***

Something came flying from above, and Darvik looked to see Cevla crash like a rag doll onto the arena floor.

"Cev!" shouted Darvik, moving to help her up.

Hrake held him back more out of instinct than concern for his well being. Trilia leapt down from above, landing lightly on the arena floor and stalking towards Cevla with murderous intent. Cevla rolled back and leapt to her feet, firing off a T-bolt as she went. The bolt slammed into a shield Trilia had raised.

The encroaching enemy forces had halted, unsure how to proceed now that their Empress was in harm’s way.

“We can get out through the fencing between the prison tower and the stadium seating,” suggested Reclan, “and now’s probably our best chance.”

D’Jarric nodded his assent, stepping outside of Raivyn and Yellup’s shield and blasting a hole in the fence.

A strange, warbled cry rose up, growing so loud that all heads turned towards the lake, where it seemed to be emanating from. The surface began to undulate, boil, and then break as a horde of Shairet burst from the water, chirping a high-pitched warcry that pierced the ears and put a primal fear in the hearts of their opponents.

The crowd of cultists, soldiers, and pirates turned their attention from the few escaped prisoners to the mass of Shairet warriors now charging them. Most were dressed in the woven cloth of Chreep’s people, but some had on the scaly hides of the formerly-banished psychics.

The psychics stood in groups, shielding the infantry and firing T-bolts, while the foremost of the lake dwellers fired their harpoon crossbows into the crowd that had turned on them. The psychics ripped what remained of the fence down without pause and the Shairet forces fell on the enemy. By necessity, the archers were outside of the shields where they could fire freely, and many fell to superior firepower in the initial charge. However, the Shairet had the advantage of surprise and organization, and were able to rout the more well-armed forces.

Talon Squad, the RTS, and Darvik fell in with the Shairet and managed to cut down a large number of enemies. Chreep, leading a squad of archers, found his old allies.

“Hello, Talon Squad,” he chirped joyfully. “You have given us the opening we have long waited for!”

“Oh, uh, happy to help, Chreep,” said Reclan. “I see you, uh, worked out your differences.” She gestured to the psychic squads.

“Oh, yes,” Chreep laughed. “Tensions remain, but invasions have a way of clarifying friend and foe.”

Darvik looked up and saw the Swamp’s Pride lifting off.

“There goes Hoon-Kra,” he said, pointing. “The fool is going to try to amplify Koo L’Koom’s aura of madness.”

Raivyn’s eyes snapped up to the ship, her mind racing. Koo L’Koom. That’s what drove the psychics of Gateway mad; his mere presence. Now someone wanted to expand his influence.

“Can he do that?” she asked.

“He certainly believes so,” said Darvik. “That’s what the cult was all about. Getting to Koo L’Koom.”

“Can you stop him?” she asked.

“Probably not,” said Darvik, shaking his head even as he dodged a crazed cultist’s long knife.

“Well you’re going to try,” said Trebor. “You can reach out to him and get coordinates, I imagine. And I am coming with you.”

“How?” asked Vanbrook, slashing a pirate’s arm off.

“A star tree,” said Raivyn. “We can take one in the chaos.”

“‘We!?’” demanded Vanbrook.

“Star trees require a psychic pilot,” said Raivyn. “And I’ve flown one before.”

“I’ll take another, then,” said Yellup. “Take everyone else back to the fleet.”

“The controls are fairly intuitive,” said Raivyn, pausing to fire off a volley of T-bolts. “Grab the root-like reins and command the ship mentally.”

“Got it,” said Yellup.

“Well, I’m going with you, Rai,” said Vanbrook. “And D’Jarric’s coming, too. I remember the last time we encountered one of these things.”

Raivyn shuddered. “Yes. So do I.”

“Alright,” said Darvik. “I want to get Cevla first.”

He scanned the battle to find her, and saw her still going toe-to-toe with Trilia. She was bloodied and one of her arms hung limp at her side. She was gritting her teeth, a fire in her eyes like he’d never seen before. She fell to her knees under the pressure of the T-wave deluge pouring from Trilia’s mind. She screamed and grabbed at her heart, the fire giving way to pain. Trilia’s face split in a wide, wicked grin.

Raivyn rushed over, trying to take advantage of Trilia’s distracted state and firing a T-bolt at her. The Empress was more talented than that, and managed to deflect the blow. She turned her attention to Raivyn, who was too tired now to fight someone of Trilia’s abilities for long.

Darvik rushed to Cevla’s side, cradling her head in his hands. She looked at him, her eyes, now neither bright nor empty, looked softly back at him.

“Thank you, Darvik,” she said.

“Wh- what?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“You gave me hope,” she said. “I- I never had hope before. Even before T’Lak. Keep- keep giving people hope.” Her eyes fluttered shut, and Darvik felt her spirit leave as though she’d brushed past him on her way out of a door. He screamed in rage and pain.

“Rai, we gotta go!” shouted Vanbrook, firing his revolver at the Empress to distract her. Trilia stared murderously at him, her telekinetic shield deflecting the blast.

“The Republic!” cried a sudden voice. All eyes that could turned to see an Astralbian crier, a voice amplification growth mounted on his shoulder. “The Republic is upon us! In the aether! They’ve arrived! To the skies, Astralbia!”

“Trilia!” called Jylik from the sidelines of the arena. “Come now! This rabble will be crushed later!”

She gave a dirty look to the band of enemies that tried to chip away at her shields and darted off to her Emperor.

“Go!” shouted Chreep to Talon Squad. “We will handle any enemies left behind!”

“Retreat to the water soon,” advised D’Jarric. “They will likely blast this area once airborne.”

Chreep nodded. “As they say in the Republic, ‘Providence shine on you.’”

“On you as well,” said D’Jarric with a smile.