The System Watch was a boring assignment, but Cynop didn’t mind. In fact, the likelihood of absolutely nothing happening as the ship made its rounds through the star system that Griffonia belonged to was a sort of perk by his lights. It gave him time to sit in his office aboard the Dart and sip some rakka bean tea, like he was doing now.
“Captain Cynop,” came a voice through his comms. “There’s something out further into the system.”
Cynop sighed, running a clawed hand over his feathered crest. “What have you got, Brift?”
“Not sure, Sir,” replied the Talpidarian pilot. “Strange energy signature. Looks something like a solar storm, only it’s not moving. It’s about a lightweek away. We could get there much sooner if we jump.”
“Well,” said Cynop thoughtfully, “Send a message back home and let’s prepare to jump.”
“Standard message will take… five days for a radio signal to get back to Griffonia, Sir,” said Brift. “I can send a ripmed comm if you prefer.”
Cynop thought for a moment as he looked over the ship’s status. They were nearly done with this patrol, and running lower than he’d like on energy reserves. “No sense wasting power. Standard will do. If it’s anything of note, we’ll follow up with a ripmed comm.”
“Very good, sir.”
***
Reaching the mouth of a cave where Raivyn and the others had parked the hoverbikes, Vanbrook leapt off the back of the hound he’d ridden on and rushed over to where Raivyn stood, pistol at the ready, hunkered down behind some boulders.
“The bandits retreated into the cave,” said Lawbine.
“We'll try and get a look at what they're up to,” said Reclan, pulling up her drone controls on her tablet. One of the fist-sized orbs approached the mouth of the cave, and a hail of gunfire blasted out towards it. Reclan activated the drone’s shield, but it had already taken a beating from the initial ambush and was destroyed all but immediately.
“Hmm,” said Vanbrook speculatively. “I think we know where they are.”
Reclan turned to him, scaly lips pursed and fire in her eyes. He shrugged.
“Cover me, Rec,” said Lawbine, drawing his rayguns and running towards the cave.
Reclan scrambled to bring her remaining drones up to protect him, forming a shield wall that was already compromised by the time Lawbine made it to the cave mouth. He leapt into the cave amid another volley of incoming fire, his guns lighting the cave walls green as he fired. There was a brief pause, then a final shot sounded, the tell-tale green glow bursting from the cave. Lawbine came backing out, guns still drawn but held in a relaxed posture as he searched the cave for any additional foes.
“I think we're clear,” he said, turning to Talon Squad with a grin.
***
The wooden block sat stubbornly on the table. Regardless of how intently Darvik stared at it, it refused to move. The office, located in the Griffon Keep complex, was small, but much better lit than Trebor’s office at the Depot. It was certainly better furnished and more comfortable, but none of that made these exercises more bearable. He slapped the block, watching it fly off the table and bounce off the wall, where it left a dent.
“It moved,” said Darvik flatly. “Can I go now?”
Glynn, who served as something between a social worker and psychic arts instructor for Darvik, shook her head, sighed, and wrote something down on her notepad. “Unfortunately for you–out of a sense of professionalism I won't say ‘me’--this appointment lasts another fifteen minutes whether you accomplish anything or not.”
Darvik sighed. Glynn was a taskmaster of the highest order. She was staring at him through horn-rimmed spectacles, her eyes chilled with a cold venom. Darvik found her far more unsettling than Trebor. As part of the commutation of his sentence, he had to see Agent Glynn once a week. She was an RTS agent who specialized in reforming criminal psychics, but had agreed to take on Darvik with the purpose of training him to use his abilities properly, assuming he could ever display any. She gave the wooden block on the floor a glance and reached out with the T-waves that emanated from her mind, picking it up and setting it down on the table with a hearty thump.
“Now that’s just showing off,” muttered Darvik.
“Psychic skills are difficult to teach, even to willing and talented students,” said Glynn, ignoring the remark. “If you don’t start putting in some real effort, you’ll never develop your skills.”
“I can’t think at this stupid block any harder than I already have!” moaned Darvik.
“We’ve been over this,” said Glynn, shaking her head. “It is not about ‘thinking at’ something. Think of the T-waves that your brain generates as another limb. Something you reach out with. I can’t explain the thought of doing it any more than I can explain the thought of moving my arm. I will myself to do it, and my mind obeys.”
Darvik huffed and stared at the block again. This time, instead of trying to will the block off the table, he searched for a part of his brain that might be able to send the desired message. He tried to visualize a hand sprouting from his head, pushing towards the block. His head began to ache. From what Glynn had told him, that was a good sign, similar to feeling muscles burn as you exercised them. He fought through the headache, focusing on the image of the hand. Pressure built in his mind like water gathering behind a dam. The dam burst. T-waves washed over the table. The block rocked gently, not moving an inch.
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“I did it!” shouted Darvik. “I did it!”
“Alright,” said Glynn, checking the time. “I suppose we can stop a few minutes early today. Keep practicing that at home. I’ll see you in a week.”
Darvik looked up at her, feeling wounded. Sure, the effect had been a bit anticlimactic, but he’d finally done it.
“I just moved something with my mind,” he said, almost pleadingly.
“Mr. Darvik,” said Glynn, peering over her glasses in a way that chilled Darvik’s bones. “I have seen children younger than six throw objects ten times the size of that block across a room with no training. You are a full-grown would-be criminal with months of training and you barely managed to nudge a small object. I will not pretend to be impressed.”
She stood up and walked to the door, opening it to reveal the backs of the two guards always stationed outside during the visits. She had insisted they not interfere with the training, but the powers-that-be refused to let anyone be alone with Darvik, a known killer, without backup nearby.
Darvik sighed and stood up, walking out the door and beginning to make his way back to his quarters in the Depot.
***
Hrake walked cautiously into the cave with Dhraka, both of them holding their hammer-rifles at the ready. It appeared that the bandits had fought to their last breath, and the Aeratan gunslinger had left no survivors.
“Good work,” nodded Hrake. He looked over to see Talon Squad joining them in the cave. He caught an angry look on Vanbrook’s face, but the swashbuckler made an effort to hide it. Hrake frowned, confused by the display.
He dismissed the thought for the moment, turning to Dhraka. She was inspecting the hoverbikes, a contemplative look on her face.
“There will be more bandits like these,” she said, talking to him in Hrudukite.
“Doubtless,” replied Hrake.
She turned to him, smiling a bit bashfully. “However, a deal is a deal. You have helped me fulfill my duty as a ranger, and now we may wed and have our honeymoon among the stars.”
Hrake’s deep aqua scales paled a few shades. He was at a loss. “What- what did you say?”
She gave him a look of befuddled horror, “I said we may now be- be wed,” her eyes were searching his for some kind of clue. “You asked me to be your mate–is that not the word you used?–and I made the condition that you aid me in completing my duty as a ranger.”
Hrake’s eyes widened. The rangers who had begun gathering in the cave dispersed, all deciding at once to leave the cave for some fresh air. Talon Squad watched the scene play out in some confusion, none of them understanding Hrake’s native tongue enough to follow along.
“I- I said…” started Hrake dumbly. The answer struck him like a hammer. “I said ‘first mate,’ an Aeratan phrase.”
“Yes. It means mate, does it not?” asked the confused ranger captain.
Hrake cringed. “Not in the sense you use it. It means something like a… second in command.”
“You were… offering me a job,” said Dhraka, staring past Hrake, carefully keeping her face in a kind of shocked stoicism.
“Yes,” said Hrake flatly.
Dhraka nodded and walked out of the cave as if in a trance. Hrake looked after her, dumbfounded. The rangers, having gotten their fill of fresh air, came back in and began arranging the dead bandits for transport and cataloging the cave’s contents.
Hrake tramped his way out into the daylight and sat on a stone, as far as he reasonably could from where Dhraka was tending to the hounds. Vanbrook walked by, still looking moody.
“Join me, Van,” said Hrake. “I could use a friend’s ear.”
Vanbrook looked at him a moment before the words sank in. “Oh, yeah, sure, buddy. Uh, what was all that about back there?”
Hrake shrugged haplessly. “It seems I accidentally proposed to Dhraka when I asked her to be my first mate aboard the Drihn.”
Turning slowly to the Hrudukite with wide eyes, Vanbrook found himself at a loss for words, though the sensation was fleeting. “How in the great, wide aether did you manage that?”
“I asked in Talpaertan,” he said, shaking his head. “I have taken to conducting all possible Gred Navy business in the galaxy’s common tongue. Dhraka does not speak it quite so fluently as I. It would seem there was a misunderstanding.”
Vanbrook laughed heartily, though he regretted it immediately. Hrake stared at the ground while Dhraka looked furtively in their direction.
“Sorry, sorry, it’s not funny,” said Vanbrook.
Hrake offered a weak smile. “It… is a little funny. I hope we can laugh about it someday.”
“As husband and wife?” Vanbrook ventured.
Hrake shook his head. “Perhaps. I have… admired Dhraka for some time. But I fear my words just now have complicated matters.”
“Just go tell her that you’d like to marry her,” suggested Vanbrook.
“I have just wounded her gravely, Vanbrook!” hissed Hrake in a low whisper. “Now is not the time. Come, take my mind from my pain. Tell me how things are with you and Raivyn.”
Vanbrook heaved a sigh and looked over to the cave mouth where Raivyn was speaking with Lawbine. “I don’t know. Good, I think, but I don’t like this whole ‘old friend’ thing.”
Hrake followed Vanbrook’s eyes. “Ah, the rival male. And you think Raivyn is… weighing her options?”
“Not consciously,” said Vanbrook hopefully.
“I assume that duels of honor are not a common practice in the Republic,” offered Hrake with a smirk.
“No,” said Vanbrook in a tone that suggested he’d already considered the idea. “And Aeratan tradition, which is a bit more duel-friendly, states that the challenged party gets to select the weapons used, which means I’d get a hole or two burned in my chest.”
“And I daresay Raivyn would not leave her romantic fate up to two bickering men, eh?” said Hrake, nudging Vanbrook’s shoulder.
“Of course not,” said Vanbrook, waving a hand dismissively as the rest of Talon Squad came over.
“Congrats, I guess,” said Reclan to Hrake.
Hrake sighed.
“I guess not,” said Reclan with a grimace. “The other rangers filled us in a bit.”
Hrake shook his head.
Dhraka walked over, her attitude all business. “The hounds are ready. We'll hook two up to the wagon and pull the loot and bodies back that way. The hoverbikes can be ridden back, which means we won't have to share as many mounts.”
“I can ride with Raivyn again,” offered Lawbine.
“I don't think so,” said Vanbrook quickly. All eyes turned to him. “...because you should get some experience with desert hounds. Maybe, uh, help drive the cart.”
Raivyn gave Vanbrook a suspicious glare, but Lawbine smiled one of his easy smiles.
“Sounds good to me, Van,” he said. “How about you show me the ropes?”
“You guys’ll lag behind a bit,” said Raivyn. “That ought to give you some time to get to know each other better.”
Hrake and the rest of the squad shot Vanbrook knowing looks as they mounted up and started back toward Gred. Most of the looks were in good humor, but Reclan's carried a note of warning. Vanbrook sighed, climbed up into the wagon with Lawbine and headed back towards Gred.