Vanbrook woke up refreshed and ready to fight. He always felt ready to fight. It wasn’t a matter of anger or fear -he just liked the challenge. As there were no enemies standing at the foot of his bed, he settled for a brief exercise routine and a shower, followed by heading into the command tent for something to eat. He grabbed a pastry, plus a small steak for some protein, and brewed some rakka bean tea. It was a lot hardier than those flower teas Raivyn liked, earthy and just right for waking up with.

Still sipping on the tea, he walked out to view the sunrise. The planet was honestly beautiful. The purples and oranges the rising star painted in the sky brought out the matching stones that dotted the rocky forest floor. A chorus of birds, amphibians and insects rose from the shadows of the morning forest.

Opposite the sunrise, twin moons Nyx and Lux were setting. Nyx was a dark moon, reflecting little light at all, but Lux made up for it by shining bright and silver. The two moons were in a binary orbit, circling one another as they both circled Hittania. They were similar in size and eclipsed one another throughout the night.

“Wow, I think I could live here,” he said absently.

“Really?” said Raivyn, who was also enjoying some tea in the morning light. Vanbrook turned to her suddenly.

“Well,” started Vanbrook, “it’s just kind of… an expression. It’s nice here, you know? Ha, maybe the colors just remind me of the neon-lit clubs of home.”

“It’s quite a canvas,” said Raivyn. “‘The Progenitor is the greatest painter, and the skies his greatest canvas,’ that’s something my mom always said when I was young.”

“Hmm,” replied Vanbrook, “that’s nice. Hey, any word on Reclan?”

“Yeah,” said Raivyn, staring into her tea. “Doc said she woke up. They had to take her foot. Sounds like she’s taking it pretty hard. I can’t blame her.

“She’s tougher than she seems, though. She whines a lot but she knows how to get things done. She did a heck of a job taking out that Ramshackle craft, though I think we owe her a new drone.”

Vanbrook laughed. “Yeah, I’ll have to put in a requisition for one or two. She’d like that.”

The two finished their tea in silence. Quiet moments were going to be few and far between for a while.

***

Aboard the Wingspan, Jasken was rubbing his temples, trying to follow the rambling professor. “So,” he asked, “these papers have the coordinates for this Cornucopian Cluster?”

“No,” replied Chim. “Shrump hid them.”

“But these papers say where to find them?” Jasken asked.

“Yes! More or less. Most of the papers are gibberish. Here is the most relevant passage: ‘My confrontation with the great aetheral shark-’ this appears to be a reference to the mythological aether beast Koo L’Koom- ‘showed me the truth: no one must know about the Cluster. I have hidden away in this cave, and it will be shut with a blast door if anyone approaches, including the reptilian apes in the forest. I cannot destroy the coordinates; they are holy. So I hid them. I went to the north and hid them in the valley between two great and icy peaks. That place is holy now. Holy and forbidden. Woe to them who enter the caves. Woe to them who find the cairn. Woe to them who take the holy records.’”

“Okay,” said Jasken, “we know what we’re looking for. Chim, I’d like you and Grikchum to stay on awhile.”

The professor’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Admiral, I would have insisted on it! We simply must see Shrump’s resting place, and bring his bones home to Talpidaria!”

Jasken nodded his head.

“The area has been taken by the Ramshackle Collective. We will have to take it back, but, believe you me, we plan to.”

***

After finishing up breakfast, Vanbrook, Raivyn and D’Jarric loaded up into the ATUC and drove out for a recon mission to the pit area. They parked far enough away not to be picked up by any sensors and then hiked the remainder. The hike was picturesque, with the now-familiar purple, orange and green palette of Hittania all around them. It was also uneventful, which was an added bonus as far as Raivyn was concerned.

As they got close, Raivyn spotted a tall tree in the clearing. The trunk was bulbous, almost circular, and there was no foliage on the massive branches. The roots grew out from the base of the tree, arcing up and then pointing straight down.

“Oh, no,” she said, pointing to the tree.

“Aw, c’mon,” sighed Vanbrook, “that’s a star tree for sure.”

Getting to the crest of the nearest hill overlooking the clearing where Drixen had crashed, they saw dozens of Astralbian soldiers milling around the opening of the pit. Vanbrook began to make his way down the hill.

“Where are you going?” hissed Raivyn.

“What? We have a right to be here, they don’t. I’m not worth starting a war over, I just want to talk.”

He sauntered into the opening and, noticing that no one had seen him, he gave a brief, shrill whistle. Immediately blades and guns of every sort were trained on him. He grinned widely.

“Who’s in charge around here?” he asked nonchalantly.

An Astralbian officer approached at a brisk pace.

“Woah woah woah,” said Vanbrook, shaking his hands as if to stop him in his tracks. “You’re not in charge.”

“Excuse me?” snorted the offended officer.

“Yeah, your outfit is snooty, but it’s not near snooty enough for you to be in charge.”

An Astralbian in ostentatious armor stepped forward from the gathering crowd. The crystalline spikes on his head were tall and proud, his nose was long and pointed even by Astralbian standards, and his chin split into two points, resembling a neatly trimmed forked beard.

“You are looking for me. I am Sir Traelby. I am in charge here. And I am asking you to leave.”

“Oh, you are definitely snooty enough,” said Vanbrook, “but I’m afraid you’re the one who needs to leave.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“We captured this area from the Ramshackle Collective. It is under the dominion of the Astralbian Kingdom.”

“The Griffon Republic claimed this planet when we landed and planted a beacon.”

“You cannot claim an entire planet by virtue of being the first ones to land on it,” said Traelby.

“That’s strange,” retorted Vanbrook, “since the Astralbian Kingdom does just that. All we’ve ever asked is that the Kingdom play by the same rules as everyone else. Is that truly too much to ask?”

“When asked by a flesh-bound worm, yes, it is.”

Vanbrook’s visage darkened. “Careful, ‘Sir,’ you’re on thin ice.”

Raivyn bolted down the hill to interrupt the dialog as quickly as possible.

“I’ve spoken to our Admiral,” she announced. “At this time all we request is the wreckage of our fighter, the bones of the Talpidarian in the room at the end of the pit, and the carcass of one beaked cave frog, for scientific purposes.”

“The wreckage of the fighter is yours. But I will tell you the Ramshackle abominations were picking at it like vultures when we destroyed them. The bones and carcass are a different matter. I will discuss this with my superiors.”

“Thank you,” said Raivyn, bowing slightly. “That is reasonable, for now. Please understand that the bones of the Talpidarian are a kind of relic to his successors.”

“I will pass that along,” said Traelby dismissively.

Raivyn turned to go, pulling Vanbrook by the arm when he did not immediately follow.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Jasken raged at Vanbrook. Raivyn told him to put him on a video call as soon as they were clear of the Astralbian encampment. The fool could have touched off a war. On the monitor, the swordsman just shrugged.

"Those guys can't push us around. This is our planet."

"And you are on my specialist squad," the rage cooled down drastically, chilling Vanbrook's blood a little. Not that he would let that show.

"If you want to stay there you will start acting like it. You are talented. Talon Squad has a long leash. But you are not irreplaceable and Talon Squad is not beyond my control."

Vanbrook's face twisted as he fought his instincts down. He hadn't come this far by giving himself over to his emotions. "Yes, sir."

"Raivyn," said Jasken, "stop the ATUC. You and D'Jarric are going for a short walk."

"Yes sir," she replied. D'Jarric silently complied, walking back along the way they came. Raivyn joined him.

"Vanbrook,” said Jasken patiently. “You'd like to stack some Astralbian Kingdom bodies, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, sir. Do you have bodies in mind?"

Jasken shook his head. "No. This is not some off-the-books mission, it's a lecture.

"The Astralbians are thugs. They play by whatever rules suit them. Just burns you up inside, doesn't it?

"But I will not allow my fleet, or any part of it, to go against the will of the Republic's duly elected government. Because we follow the rules. The Astralbian Kingdom is pushing its luck. The time may come when we take the fight to them. If and when that happens I will be first in line to put them in their place."

Vanbrook hesitated, then spoke. "Why be so… honest with me?"

"I need you to understand where I stand,” said Jasken. “I don't do intrigue.

"What you did just now was stupid and irresponsible. I am hoping that you understand from this conversation that you can trust me and, if you do, you'll get your chance. If you don't, well, you can take your lone wolf act back to the fighting circuit where it belongs."

Vanbrook didn't like being talked to like this. He felt like some punk kid again, getting a tongue-lashing that, deep down inside, he knew he deserved.

"Yes, sir," he said, this time with more conviction.

"Good. I'm sure we'll be in touch."

Vanbrook sat and stewed until Raivyn and D'Jarric got back.

"Hope papa didn't whoop your behind too much," said D'Jarric.

Vanbrook just snorted. He would have liked to give Jasken a black eye, then maybe talk it out over some drinks. It didn't work that way in the military, but maybe it should.

***

Half a planet away, Crush was stewing and pacing. The squads sent to the pit had taken some losses pushing out the Republic, which was to be expected. Then there were the frogs, which cost them a few more soldiers. Again, that was all part of the job description. Worse yet, however, was the fact that there was nothing valuable in the pit. They had quickly torn the wiring and electronics out for scrap, and had just begun dissembling the crashed Republic ship when the coup de grace came. The Astralbians showed up.

How they found them was a mystery. Astralbians didn't have the most advanced tracking and imaging systems and certainly hadn't had time to set up a network.

"Crush, report to the Admiral's cabin immediately."

The voice, suddenly blaring from the Reaper's speaker system, was expected but unwelcome. Crush gathered her courage and went to face the Admiral.

She stepped through the doorway into his cabin with her head held high, refusing to even glance at the grisly decor that was still adorning Grim's desk.

"Shut the door, Crush."

She obeyed without hesitation. And then, strangely, Grim began laughing. Low at first, quickly reaching a roaring crescendo that rattled the chains of his beard and then faded into a chuckle.

"Those chuckleheads out there on deck think you're in here getting your head ripped off, figuratively or otherwise," he laughed again.

"And what am I here for?" she ventured.

Grim eased himself back into his chair, rocking a little. "A little chat about the way things are, and your cut."

"My… cut, sir?"

"Yes. Chat first," he replied, rising from his chair, he came over to Crush, peering out a porthole overlooking the deck.

"We are, as you know, a 'Collective.' We are a collection of pirate fleets all bent toward the betterment of ourselves. More scrap, more resources, more power, more life lived as we please.

"All members of the Collective are meant to work towards its good, even unto death. Here's the tricky bit: who gets to enjoy all that?

"The short answer: you and me. Those who rise to the top.

“Some obscure scholar or heir or some such in the Republic had put out a notice on the black market that he was looking for something- an old journal. It was supposed to have a clue to the location of an old tomb of some kind. Through murder and guile, I got a hold of the journal, but I did not sell it to the scholar.

When we found nothing but trouble at that crash site, I leveraged it into something to better the Collective, namely you and I. That scholar wasn’t the only party interested in Shrump the Mad, who I admit I hoped was buried with a lot more platinum.

Anyway, I sold the location information to the Astralbians through back channels, and you get a cut of it. You worked hard to get where you are," he patted Splatter's head, "and you deserve the spoils of war."

Crush's head was spinning. The Admiral had betrayed a dozen loyal soldiers to their deaths, just for money? Astralbian money, no less. The Astralbians, who looked on their kind as abominations, who would no doubt kill them all given the chance. And the Admiral took blood money from them.

"You've crossed a threshold here, Crush. It can be a lot to take in. But believe me, you’ve just hit the jackpot. You'll understand soon if you don't now. Here’s something to help you along,” he handed her a solid platinum bar. She weighed it in her hand. It was more currency than she’d ever held before.

“I’m the one who told the Astralbians how to find this planet in the first place,” Grim bragged. “Raelik, not to mention King Hylik, is obsessed with the legend of the Cornucopian Cluster, and he was willing to pay handsomely for the information. I played the hand I was dealt. Once I knew we weren’t going to get any immediate value from the site, I let the Astralbians have it. For a small fee.

“Now, we’ll strike a deal and stay on as mercenaries for the Astralbians. The Astralbians get what they want, the Republic gets a trouncing, the Collective gets rich. It’s a win-win-win.”

He chuckled once more, then turned from her and sat at his desk. “See yourself out."