The Gladius came out of its jump not far from the place where the Dart had sent its last message. The details were sparse to say the least, but Grepk noticed the anomaly on his scanners immediately. Sure enough, there was some kind of EM disturbance deep in the aether.

“Alright, folks,” he said. “I can see what the Dart saw, and we're going to head towards it. We've got plenty of juice and we're keeping a ripmed comm line open for the duration of the mission. Check your gear and get ready for anything.”

The trip didn’t take long, and soon he could bring up a telescopic image of the disturbance. He put the image up on the public display so the other Marines could see it.

“Anybody ever seen anything like this?” he asked.

There was a large purple sphere, with something dark and indistinct inside it.

“No, sir,” said Trall, studying the image closely.

Krum-Bahk and Keshri shook their heads.

“Depot, this is the Gladius,” said Grepk. “Take a look at the video we're sending your way. Whatever it is, it doesn't look natural. I think there's some kind of-”

The lights all turned off at once. The Gladius was dead in the water.

***

Soon the fleet was on its jump to Cradle, the last diplomatic stop before joining the rest of the galaxy in exploring new worlds. Hrake was coming along with them in the Drihn, his fleet of commandeered ships coming along. Hrake had named them the Erhk, Rerhk, and Kherhk, evidently in reference to a Hrudukite nursery rhyme.

Hunt received permission to assign some volunteers to the former pirate vessels to help a skeleton crew of Hrudukite sailors learn the ropes.

Talon Squad fell into a comfortable rhythm, or at least a more comfortable rhythm than Vanbrook expected. Lawbine continued to spend as much time with Raivyn as he could, but Vanbrook kept his cool and didn't give either of them a hard time about it. Besides, he was happy how much time Raivyn chose to spend with himself, and the two finally had a chance to talk and share meals together regularly.

Then disaster struck. Hunt was checking his messages on the bridge when a distress call came in from the Kherhk.

“Attention! Attention!” came a voice from the imperiled ship. “Shields just dropped to fi-”

The message ended as abruptly as it had begun.

“Hello, Kherhk,” said Hrake over comms. “This is Captain Hrake, come in Kherhk.”

Hunt hung his head. He knew beyond a doubt what had happened. The Kherhk’s shield had failed, either due to faulty equipment or repeated blows from space debris. After that, the tiniest piece of debris in the path of a ship traveling well beyond the speed of light would end in devastation.

“We must go back for them,” said Hrake.

“Captain,” said Hunt. “You have my condolences. But our sailors are gone.”

“Then we must gather their bodies,” said Hrake. His voice was even, but Hunt could tell there was an element of shock in it. Hrake had certainly lost soldiers before. But now he had lost a ship full of crewmates and allies in a mechanical accident.

“Hrake… they're one with the aether,” said Hunt. It was an old spacer’s term. A euphemism for occasions such as this, when “obliterated” or “disintegrated” felt too harsh, no matter how true they might be. “We should check the shield integrity of the Erhk and Rerhk, though.”

“This is the Erhk, our shields are at eighty-eight percent,” said a voice over the comms.

“The Rerhk is at ninety, sirs,” said another. “We're happy to stop if you feel it necessary but our crew can monitor things from here and stop the jump if anything goes sideways.”

“I'll second that,” said the Erhk.

“Very well,” said Hrake. “We press on.”

Aboard the Drihn, Hrake hung his head. Dhraka came to his side and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. He turned to her with appreciative eyes and they exchanged weak smiles.

The remainder of the jump took on a solemn tone as the losses were mourned, but the Ramshackle ships had no further issues. When the jump finally came to an end, Vanbrook was excited to see a new world for the first time on the journey. Granted, Cradle was inhabited, so didn’t hold the same excitement as a truly undiscovered world, but nonetheless there would be plenty to explore.

Crush was waiting for Admiral Hunt and Talon Squad when they disembarked. A small, colorful creature with leathery wings and a bushy tail sat on her shoulder as she stood with a cohort of native Astralbians. The stone figure, etched in softly glowing blue lines and bearing silvery armored plates standing by the spikey blue orbs bearing bejeweled wooden staves was an impressive sight. Vanbrook could see that, while distinct, the Astralbians and the Robots–or Coreborn, as they were known on Cradle–were complementary species.

Hrake came over and joined them, bowing slightly to Crush and the others.

“Old friends,” said Crush. “Welcome to Cradle. I introduce to you King Hua and Queen Shiu, sovereigns of Cradle.”

“The Griffon Republic extends its warmest greetings, your Majesties,” said Hunt.

“And we return them,” chimed King Hua. “Welcome to Cradle.”

“You are welcome to take on water and collect samples,” said Crush. “But please do so in coordination with me. There are some objects too precious to give to others, even to close allies.”

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“Of course,” said Hunt. “Thank you.”

The small creature on her shoulder chittered at the newcomers.

“Stripes says hello, as well,” said Crush with a light laugh.

While Hunt spoke with the royal couple, Reclan approached Crush. “Remember me, oh great guardian?” she asked with a wry grin.

Crush turned her unmoving faceplate towards Crush, but there was an inexplicable warmth in her blue eyes. “Reclan. How is your foot treating you?”

“Fantastic,” she answered, holding her bionic foot out for inspection. “The modifications you suggested really helped the whole thing fit more comfortably.”

Stripes leapt onto the proffered foot, chittering happily and forcing Reclan to balance on one foot longer than anticipated.

“That’s enough of that, boy!” said Crush goodnaturedly, scooping the critter off of Reclan’s foot.

Swinging her arms wildly, Reclan caught her balance and nodded gratefully to Crush, then stuck her tongue out playfully at the little creature that climbed back up on her friend’s shoulder.

Crush’s eyes wandered over the combined Republic and Hrudukite fleet, lingering on the Erhk and Rerhk.

“You’ve commandeered Collective ships?” she asked.

“Yes,” answered Hrake. “A small remnant of Ramshackle pirates attacked the Drihn, but were defeated. I took the opportunity to expand my fleet. Unfortunately, the ships appear to have shielding problems.”

“With your permission, I will have my people look into that for you,” said Crush. “It’s a model of ship we’re quite familiar with.”

Hrake beamed. “I will let my lead engineer know to expect them.”

“For now, I would like to show Talon Squad the mine,” said Crush. “I know the natural deposit of cores is of great interest to the wider galaxy. Hrake, you are welcome to come along.”

“I would be honored,” he said with a bow.

Talon Squad piled into their ATUC and followed behind Crush, who took Hrake with her in a small transport with a cargo bed in the back. Stripes followed behind the transport, flitting along happily. The vehicles followed a well-worn path through verdant, gnarled woods and wide, purple prairies, eventually coming to a dense forest at the foot of a craggy mountain. The path continued up the slope and Vanbrook noted more of the colorful squirrelbats in the trees as they passed.

The trees thinned out and revealed an open-air mine full of Robots and Astralbians, all working hard to chip away at the rock and reveal the precious stones within. One of the Robots approached.

“Admiral! I take it this is Talon Squad,” he said.

“Yes, as well as Captain Hrake of Gred,” she replied. “Talon Squad, Hrake, meet Slag, the mine’s foreman.”

Everyone exchanged hellos, and then Slag turned to Crush.

“We’re starting to get less return on investment from digging in the same old places,” he said. “I’d like to have an exploratory group go check out the western ridge.”

“You’re the miner,” said Crush with a shrug. “Go for it.”

“Thanks, Admiral,” he said, turning to go.

“‘Admiral’ doesn’t seem to cover it,” said Reclan.

Crush looked thoughtful. “I know. But it’s what everyone knows to call me. Should I ask them to start calling me ‘Guardian Crush?’”

“Probably,” said Reclan noncommittally. “Where is your fleet, anyway?”

“Acting as privateers and bounty hunters for the Wabuluban Kingdom and the PIC under Captain Hacksaw,” answered Crush. “Mostly hunting down the remnants of the Ramshackle Collective. The Collective is too dispersed to be struck down with any finality, and there’s no political will to go after the larger worlds and space stations they still hold. However, the Cornucopia War hit them nearly as hard as it hit the Astralbians and the free nations of the galaxy aren’t nearly as tolerant of them now.

“But you didn’t come all this way for an update on the FRF. Let’s go see the mine up close.”

The miners greeted them happily but kept at their work, carefully moving earth and stone with machines and hand tools to avoid damaging any potential cores hidden below. As they toured the mine, Doc kept stealing uneasy glances at Crush. D’Jarric noted the looks and filed it away for later. The mine wasn’t large, and the group soon found themselves at the far edge, up against the rock face of the mountain.

Reclan looked over to the trees where some movement had caught her eyes.

“What’s that, in the woods?” she asked.

Crush turned to look as a hulking, fifteen foot tall beast stepped out of the forest, sniffing the air. It was hairy and bipedal, but hunched over, built more like an avian reptile than a mammal. Its short arms sported three heavy claws, and the flared, cattle-like nostrils worked furiously above a maw filled with jagged teeth.

“Oh,” said Crush dismissively. “We call them hill threshers. They wander through the mines occasionally but don’t bother anyone. Mostly they stick to the forest.”

“Yeah?” asked Vanbrook. “But have you ever seen them around biologicals before?”

“Oh,” said Crush, realization dawning in her mind.

The creature stopped sniffing, and dull, wide-set eyes locked onto Vanbrook. Pouncing before his prey could evade him, the beast leapt the full twenty yards between itself and Vanbrook. He drew his pistol and fired, but the shot went wide, and he had to dodge clumsily out of the way. He managed to avoid the talons that raked the air where he had stood a split second before, but was caught in the head by the hill thresher’s back hand swing. Vanbrook tumbled to the ground, dazed by the blow.

The rest of Talon Squad was already drawing their weapons, Lawbine the quickest to get a shot off. His ray pistols, firing blazing orange bolts, were able to drill a burning hole through a man’s rib cage, but the shaggy fur and leathery, armored hide of the hill thresher held out. The beast roared and rounded on Lawbine, its shoulder smoldering where the gunslinger had shot it.

“On me!” shouted Raivyn, wheeling away from Vanbrook to draw the beast off and give him time to recover.

Everyone moved with her, blasting at the creature as they did. D’Jarric’s bolts seemed to bother it the most, and it snapped viciously at the Solaran. Vanbrook, partially recovered, brought his pistol up again and fired, the blue blast of the nova crystal round irritating the beast enough that it swung back towards him. His pistol was a blur at the end of his arm and the beast seemed to split into two as his vision doubled.

“Leave this to me!” shouted Lawbine. “Everyone else hold fire!”

Everyone but Vanbrook obliged, and orange and blue bolts pummeled the creature from opposite directions. Infuriated, it ultimately chose to swing towards Lawbine, who was hitting the creature with speed and accuracy that Vanbrook couldn’t match. The hill thresher turned towards the threat with a roar, more enraged than hungry now. Lawbine raised one pistol, aimed and fired into one of the beast's eyes. The roaring stopped abruptly and the creature fell to the ground.

“Ah, I had that…” said Vanbrook in a sluggish voice. He stepped toward the others, trying to return his pistol to his holster but simply dropping it to the ground. Vanbrook followed right behind it, sprawling across the stones and laying by the fallen hill thresher.

***

“We’re receiving a communication, sir,” said Triflin.

“Who from?” asked Hunt, stirred from his thoughts by the communications officer.

“It’s the refugees,” answered Triflin. “The ones from Shumriven.”

Hunt sighed. “We’re not supposed to speak with them until they reach a settled world, I’m afraid.”

Triflin shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t clear–this isn’t a ripmed comm. They’re in orbit.”

Hunt nearly leapt out of his chair. “What!? Why would they follow us here? Cradle isn’t part of the IGC, they need to head directly for Gateway, or Thioa! Anywhere that officially recognizes the Code!”

“Do you wish to tell them that, Admiral?” asked Triflin.

Hunt shook his head, but relented. “Answer the call.”

An Astralbian female Hunt recognized as Glinya appeared on the screen, alongside a bright-eyed Telton male.

“What are you doing here?” asked Hunt. He avoided using names in case their transmission was being monitored.

“I am seeking asylum, and being dogged by Lord Wyven, Hunt!” she answered.

“Careful what you say-” started Hunt.

“I will not have my escape cut off, Admiral!” said Glinya. “I have put in hard work for the Republic and I will not suffer being captured by that scum!”

“Sir, another call is coming in,” said Triflin.

“The Astralbians?” asked Hunt through gritted teeth.

“I’m afraid so, sir,” answered Triflin. “And yes, they, uh, they are also in orbit.”