Ever since Crush’s broken body had been returned to Cradle, things had been quiet. King Hua and Queen Shiu had seen to the influx of Astralbians pouring in from the recently defunct Astralbian Empire, and the Robots of the Free Revolutionary Fleet had been left to themselves as welcome guests of the monarchs.
As Hacksaw understood it, the death of Emperor Jylik had left the Astralbians of Astralbia Prime leaderless, as Jylik had no heir. The Empress, Lady Trilia, had been accused of playing a part in the Emperor’s demise and had been living out a self-imposed banishment on Koomia, playing the part of the leader of the aether beast-worshiping cult, the Koomites. Lord Wyven, who had been captured during the war, had returned to Astralbia Prime and began consolidating power, gathering as many lords and knights under his banner as he could.
A sizable portion of the Astralbian people were so drawn to the idea of learning more about the planet their species originated on that they made the pilgrimage to Cradle. Whether they were there to settle down or simply to visit was unclear.
Given Crush’s state, Hacksaw had taken command of the FRF on a temporary basis. He had always been one of Crush’s top advisors and had been there when Admiral Grim had torn her to pieces, only to have his core shot through by a telekinetic attack from Crush herself, and no one had questioned Hacksaw’s right to succeed her. They had no idea how close he’d come to betraying her in those pivotal moments.
He had no idea what it meant that Crush was a telepathic Robot, or why she had influence over the aether beast, or why she rose from her deathbed, rebuked Koo L’Koom, declared herself “Guardian” of the Cornucopia Cluster and then promptly crumpled to the ground once more, but he knew that he was going to stay by her side for the rest of his life. The robo-smiths who’d been working to restore Crush’s body had been repeatedly frustrated, as her core seemed to reject and fry circuits that appeared to be entirely compatible. However, Hacksaw refused to spare any expense, and the team kept trying.
At the moment, Hacksaw had left the smiths to their work and gone to oversee the core mine that the FRF had been helping the Astralbians dig. It seemed that every day they were uncovering at least one glowing, blue core that would be the basis for a brand new Robot, or Coreborn, as the natives of Cradle preferred to call them.
Slag, the head miner, came out of one of the tunnels that had been carved into the mountain side, gently placing a freshly unearthed core in a cloth-lined transport.
“Captain Hacksaw!” he said, seeing the familiar Robot standing by the mine entrance. “How goes it?”
Hacksaw shrugged. “No change for the good Admiral.”
Slag nodded. “That’s a shame. Stripes still keeping her company?”
“Yes,” said Hacksaw, his spirits lifting a little at the memory of Crush’s loyal pet batsquirrel. “He won’t leave her side. Of course, that doesn’t get us any closer to restoring our fearless leader.”
Slag looked beyond Hacksaw, down the hill that led to the verdant forest below. “I have never seen Yrinla on a hoverbike before,” he said in mild surprise.
Sure that the old miner was playing some kind of joke on him, Hacksaw looked intently at him before slowly turning to see exactly what he did not expect to see. Yrinla, the FRF’s very own Astralbian tree priestess. On a hoverbike.
“What’s going on?” asked Hacksaw when Yrinla had pulled to a stop next to him.
“It’s Crush,” she said breathlessly. “She’s waking up.”
***
The trip to Hruduk would have been painfully boring, but Vanbrook was excited to be around Raivyn again. They shared their meals together with the rest of Talon Squad as they always had, but now Lawbine was with them as well. That didn’t sit well with Vanbrook, but he kept his mouth shut, fighting his instinct to cause trouble. Between his blossoming romance with Raivyn and Hunt’s new Admiralship, he had little interest in rocking the boat.
“It’s true!” said Lawbine, smiling. “Raivyn used to toss me around like a rag doll!”
“Until you shot up like a weed one summer,” said Raivyn with a laugh. “You were a little harder to ‘toss around’ after that.”
Vanbrook stared dejectedly at his plate, stabbing a squishy green vegetable with undue malice. Reclan looked at him worriedly.
“Sparring with a taller opponent certainly helped me to hone my skills,” noted Raivyn.
“And how do you like your chances against Raivyn today?” asked D'Jarric, smiling at Lawbine.
“In hand-to-hand combat?” asked Lawbine with a chuckle. “I don't like my chances one bit. I mean, that's why I started training as a marksman. Rai was never a great shot, and I wanted to make sure I could still show her up.”
After dinner, Vanbrook retreated to his room, stewing with jealousy. Lawbine was a nightmarish amalgamation of everything a man in a blossoming romance feared–a tall, suave, handsome childhood friend of his sweetheart’s.
There was a knock at the door. He opened it to find Raivyn looking up at him, a faint smile on her lips.
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“Hey, Van,” she said. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Huh?” he asked dumbly. “Oh, yeah, I'm fine.”
Raivyn's brow furrowed. “You sure? You've seemed… distant since we boarded the Wingspan.”
Vanbrook shrugged and looked past Raivyn, gratified to see an empty hallway. “Hey, uh, how about a romantic stroll through the grounds? We could walk around that strip between the bridge tower and the poly dome over it.”
Raivyn laughed, slipping her arm under his. “Sounds fantastic.”
The couple made their way to the lower floor of the bridge and then stepped out onto the deck where the polymer dome the bridge sat under was the only thing separating them from the aether. They looked up at the stars together for a moment.
“I don’t do this kind of thing enough,” said Raivyn.
“What? Go on walks with me?” asked Vanbrook.
She slapped his shoulder. “No. Stop and look at the stars,” she said. “Sometimes we’re tempted to think we’ve mastered them. We can just hop from star to star and explore every world in the galaxy, but we’re still just so… small. I think the Progenitor stretched out the whole universe to be as huge as it is just so we’d remember how small we are. Does that make sense?”
“I’m not sure it does,” said Vanbrook with a nod. “But, somehow, I know exactly what you mean.”
She smiled up at him and they continued their walk. Rounding a corner, they spotted a tall, dark figure staring up into the aether. Vanbrook ground his teeth.
“Oh, hey Lawbine!” said Raivyn happily.
“Raivyn! Vanbrook. Good to see you two,” replied the gunslinger. “Out enjoying the view? I suppose you two are used to it, but I usually don’t get to see the stars up close like this.”
“I know where there’s an airlock if you’d like a closer look,” offered Vanbrook.
The comment earned him another slap to the shoulder from Raivyn, but Lawbine broke out in a good-natured laugh.
“I can see what Raivyn likes about you,” he said. Then he winked at Raivyn. “But at the same time I’m surprised she puts up with it.”
Vanbrook boiled, but Lawbine hadn’t said anything out of line. He held his tongue.
Lawbine joined them for a portion of their walk before breaking off and heading back inside. Vanbrook was glad to note that Raivyn’s arm had stayed in his the whole time.
***
On the bridge, Hunt studied the various charts and readouts on his display. He still felt odd sitting in Jasken’s chair. On an intellectual level, he was well aware that it was the Republic’s chair, and it was his rightful place as Admiral of the Blue Griffon Fleet. That didn’t make it feel any less odd. It didn’t help that when he turned to see Mairen, her chair was occupied by Triflin, who’d certainly proved himself worthy of the position of Communications Officer, but who wasn’t Mairen.
“Officer Triflin,” said Hunt, turning to the young Astralbian male. “Any chatter from out in the aether I ought to be aware of?”
“No, sir,” he said brightly. “Word along the shipping lanes is that sailing has become pretty clear along this route. Pirates don’t like being around Navy vessels if they don’t have to be and we frequent the area. Also, trade has been so good to Hruduk that the lanes are debris-free, so shields tend to hold up. In other words, we’re all good.”
The tech-savvy Astralbian turned back to his console, tapping away at his keyboard. He had defected to the Republic from the Astralbian Empire early in the Cornucopia War along with his twin sister, Kiflin. She had taken to flying and was part of Drixen’s fighter squadron. Hunt was happy to have the twins, and certainly happy to have Drixen.
“And we ought to be coming up on Hruduk soon, anyway,” said Dekken. The tall, broad, blue-spotted Raki was still Chief Engineer, rounding out his top crew, though he had begun to threaten to retire.
The only team member who was neither replaced nor still around was Hunt himself, in a sense. No captain had been appointed to serve under him, and it dawned on him that he had long been an understudy. Not that he was offended; he had been given the opportunity to learn firsthand from one of the most accomplished Admirals in the history of the Griffon Republic Navy. However, it felt a tad strange not to have someone to pass the lessons on to. Perhaps he’d be better off figuring some things out on his own before trying to teach someone else, anyway.
***
Hacksaw could see a brilliant blue glow coming from the Liberty long before they actually reached the vessel. Crush’s body had been kept on her fleet’s flagship, since the best robo-smithing facilities the FRF had access to were aboard. Now it seemed her core had ignited somehow, throwing shafts of blue light through the portholes that could be seen even in the full light of day.
Parking the bike, Yrinla let Hacksaw jump off and followed suit.
“What’s going on?” asked Hacksaw.
“No idea!” said Yrinla. “I’m no robo-smith.”
“Well, this is no act of smithing,” retorted the captain.
The glow shifted, as though the source was moving around. A smith leapt up the stairs and onto the deck, looking around for someone to talk to.
“Captain Hacksaw!” she said, voice filled with relief. “It’s the Admiral, she’s… floating again! Like she did on Gateway!”
Even as the smith spoke, Crush’s ruined body seemed to float up the stairs, her core still throwing off sapphire light. Stripes scrambled up the steps behind her, squeaking with excitement.
The metal shell that had been assembled to rebuild Crush fell away along with the circuits, actuators and pistons that made up her muscles and nervous system. The naked core rose into the air, floating about ten feet over the deck of the Liberty. The ground shook, and stone rocketed up out of the ground, showering earth down on the area around the ship. A group of small, smooth stones gathered around the core, forming a tight shield, though blue energy still shone through the cracks between the stones. Stones of appropriate length lined up to form a rough approximation of a torso, limbs, and a head. Strange patterns resembling circuits burned themselves into the surfaces of the stones, and one of the arms bent at the elbow, the stones that made up the hand flexing as the head turned towards it, glowing blue eyes examining the movement of the digits.
The plate metal covers that had been shed by the core shook, rose and slammed into the stone figure, covering the arms, legs, feet and face.
The figure floated down to the deck of the Liberty. The compacted stones with their angular, blue lines along with the silvery armor gave the reborn Robot–if she was still a Robot–a kind of regal radiance.
Stripes spread his wings and flapped up to her shoulder, resting in his familiar place.
She turned to her friends. “Hacksaw. Yrinla. It is good to see you.”