MS. FADDEN

The Dome was just that, a simple dome of white rising over the horizon like the side cut off of an enormous golf ball. Domes were common enough on freshly settled worlds, and it was just as common to have them fall out of use. If anyone remarked at the building at all, noticed the activity going on around it, they would have assumed it was some kind of military base. The place where the enforcer's secrets were kept. This was even partially true. The medical air car landed nearby, like a thousand others had over the years, giving nothing on the outside to indicate the cargo it carried was special.

Ms. Fadden exited the air car after Jurgo was wheeled out on a gurney. He was unconscious, sedated on the flight over while they performed emergency care. Still breathing was about the best they could say about him. His body had been sliced open and poked full of holes. Most of his organs had received some kind of damage. His jaw was being held together by a clamp. That he had survived was a miracle.

She'd spent the past six hours en route here from the village praising whichever of the many gods worshiped across the universe had decided to make it happen. And, when a uniformed guard stepped forward to block their progress, she considered activating her Regalia and sending the man to meet them.

“Ma'am,” A guard said. “You can't just come through here! Security procedure...”

“I helped write that procedure sergeant,” she said. “I am above it. And if you speak one single syllable more, I will tear you apart with my bare hands. If we don't get through now, this entire facility has no purpose.”

“Ma'am, I'm under standing orders to—”

She knocked him aside with the metallic leg of her Widow's Regalia and continued forward, glaring at the other guards and daring them to try and stop her. No one did and apparently word was sent ahead, since nothing and nobody else tried to stop them until they reached the exact center of the facility, where an old man lay dying surrounded by guards, both the enforcer's and his own. Birger stood as Jurgo was wheeled in.

“What is it?” the old dying man rasped. “What's going on?”

“They just brought Jurgo in,” Birger told the old man. “On a stretcher.”

“Does he look bad?”

“He's got so many pieces of equipment on him I can't tell,” Birger said. “So yes.”

“Let me see,” the old man rasped, pushing himself up on his elbows.

“That's why I brought him here,” Ms. Fadden said. “So you can see him. He's still alive. And we will keep him that way.”

“You better!” the old man barked. “I assume he's the only one?”

“Yes,” Ms. Fadden said, trembling a little as she spoke. “Your other grandchildren are dead.”

The old man took a moment to stare at his fallen grandson.

“And how many?” the old man asked. “How many of those knights did they get?”

“That...depends on what you mean,” Ms. Fadden said. Lying would be pointless, somehow dying in a bed the cagey old bastard still managed to have ears everywhere. “None of the knights made it through the battle without critical wounds. The last one standing, the one who....the one who defeated Jalgoz...he collapsed from blood loss immediately after their fight. They're being moved to an intensive care facility right now. But...”

“But they'll all live,” the old man snarled.

“And so will Jurgo,” Ms. Fadden pressed. “He's got a lot of stamina and a powerful Regalia. He'll be up and around in a week or two...”

“She's not wrong,” Birger said. “I've seen a lot of wounded men, captain. He'll need so many prosthetics he'll be half a robot when they're done, but they can fix him up. If he gets the absolute best this planet can give him.”

“Which is why we brought him here,” Ms. Fadden said. “This is where we keep the best doctors on the planet. I swear we'll take care of him exactly like we take care of you, and any prosthetics he needs will be top of the line..”

“Not just like you take care of me,” the old man said. “Because when he's healed, he walks out of here. And you don't try to stop him.”

“We were thinking it might be better for everyone if...”

The old man jerked up to a full sitting position and the room went mad. Doctors and nurses scattered. Guards readied there weapons. Alarm klaxons sounded and spinning orange lights flashed to life. From hidden alcoves in the walls an array of massive double barreled guns on swiveling heads poked out, all taking a bead on the old man in the bed.

“I'm dying,” he rasped. “Not senile. If you've still got him here when I die you'll never let him go. So when he's fixed, he goes free. Am I understood?”

“Yes!” Ms. Fadden said desperately. “Yes, alright! I promise!”

“Birger will check on him,” he continued. “Every day.”

“Yes yes okay!” Ms. Fadden said. “Please, your auram...we're at yellow already, we can't guarantee....”

“Yeah yeah,” the old man sighed, collapsing back into the bed. The alarms calmed, the guns retracted, and the doctors returned to their machines. Some of the machines were beeping extremely frantically, as alarmed as everyone else by their patients sudden and unexpected movement. “Keep your panties on. We made a deal and you've kept it. Mostly.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Thank you,” Ms. Fadden said.

“Just take care of my grandson,” the old man warned, and even though his eyelids were already drooping she trembled at the threat in his voice. “He's all I've got left now.”

And that was the end of things....for another nine weeks.

ANDRY

Haudrim wasn't much of a city.

There were cities in the universe built entirely out of trees, or formed from crystal spires. It was rumored that Ashynar, holy city of the Threnn, was carved from a single gigantic pearl. There were sprawling megametropolises that covered whole planets and their moons besides, linked by a constant ferry of low orbital shuttles. And then there were the simple things, the ancient and efficient designs of a forest of glass towers or a field of interconnected domes.

The capital city of Tregor fell into the glass tower category, but it was a very poor example. A central hub of towers with a cluster of brown stone buildings growing around its base until it petered out into the inevitable (on Trego) farmland. A city only because that was where the government buildings were, so everyone had to come her eventually for something or the other. Perhaps in time it would flourish and grow, but it would take a while with the steady and stolid pace of life on Tregor.

Well, Andry though, brushing some hair out of his eye. Usually.

The battle had been about nine standard weeks ago. Andry had woken up two weeks ago, but they'd only let him leave the hospital that morning. Ms. Fadden had arranged an apartment for them, a shared living space with eight individual rooms. Aurina seemed completely unwilling to leave the knight's side. Everyone was out except him and Verro, who had woken up after Andry but had been released earlier. As if summoned by the thought the Eagle Knight arrived, leaning over the balcony next to Andry.

“Nice view,” Verro said, walking up behind him.

“I hear there's a lot more impressive cities out there,” Andry shrugged.

“And there's better tasting food out there than a cherry pie,” Verro shrugged. “Doesn't make the pie not nice. Besides, when you've got eyes like mine you learn to appreciate the details.”

“What kind of details?”

“Well for one thing,” Verro grinned, pointing, “over there we've got Sasha and your sister sitting together at a cafe.”

Andry squinted into the distance, but all he could make out down there was a row of shops beside a street.

“And over there,” Verro continued, “Fann, J'vann, and Rimni walking down the road.”

Andry squinted again, but he could still only see the shape of the street from this distance.

“You're just showing off.”

“Why not?” Verro laughed, tapping a finger next to his yellow eyes. “These don't turn off when my Regalia does. Permanent mutation from bonding with it. I might as well enjoy them. You know, perks.”

They lapsed into silence.

“I still haven't decided yet,” Andry said.

“And technically I hadn't asked yet,” Verro said. “But alright.”

“And when I do decide,” Andry said, “I'll have my head on straighter, whatever I pick. You were right. Tyram was right. I was being a stubborn idiot.”

“Yeah well,” Verro smiled. “I wasn't going to say anything. I bet Rimni will though.”

“He has,” Andry groaned. “What's up with that kid?”

“Don't know,” Verro said. “I think the only one who does know is J'vann. Most of the time he seems like any other kid, but sometimes...”

“Yeah,” Andry said. He'd heard what happened to the bandit they called Big Ned. “Sometimes.”

“So almost time for this famous meeting,” Verro said in an obvious bid to change the subject.

“You're right,” Andry said. “Come on, let's find out what Ms. Fadden wants to tell us. Maybe we can finally get some damn answers.”

JURGO

Birger was not a happy man. Jurgo didn't care. He still needed more time. Time to plan. Time to think.

“I'm getting a little tired,” Birger snarled at the doctor, “of your technobabble. When. Will. He. Be. Up. And. Ready. To. Go?”

“A-and I told you!” the doctor Birger loomed over stammered. “Another week! At least another week!”

Birger snorted and turned to look around the room. A tiny side infirmary. Considering the dome's purpose Birger wasn't sure why it existed, but it was where they'd spent the past three weeks fixing up Jurgo and getting him ready to fight again. Or at least they should have been. Birger had a lot of experience with goldbrickers, malingerers, and various more foul words he could bring to mind for people avoiding their jobs. Both Jurgo and his doctors were showing the classic signs.

“How about it boy?” He asked the bandit. “Do you feel like you got a week's worth of sick left in you?”

“I plan to listen to the doctor,” Jurgo said. “I want to be sure. Certain I'm fully fit when I fight them. They killed my brothers. That means they're strong.”

“And so are--” Birger stopped himself. He'd almost let something slip. He was just a little infuriated, that was all. “Tell you what.”

Birger leaned over the bed and glared down at Jurgo. To the boy's credit he matched Birger's stare with one of his one. Out of the one eye he still had, anyway. Most of his body was still covered in cloth after the surgery.

“Don't you want to avenge your brothers?” Birger demanded.

“Yes,” Jurgo said. Voice firm, no fear. “Yes I do.”

“And what would you say,” Birger said, “if your Grandfather decided it was time for you to get off your ass?”

“Well if Grandfather said, obviously,” Jurgo said, his eyes full of challenge. “But you're not him.”

“No,” Birger said. “No I'm not. But neither are you, by a long damn shot.”

Birger stepped away from the bed and walked out of the room.

“Just get him better and ready doc,” Birger said. “Fast. That's your job, remember?”

BIRGER

Birger didn't wait for Jurgo to answer, just made his way back through the halls to where the old man lay dying. His old man. His mentor, his teacher. His captain, the one man in the universe he would die for. If it were possible, he would take the old man's sickness on himself just to see him rise from the bed again one last time. But it wasn't possible, and all Birger could do was watch an old man die and lament at the unsuitability of his heirs.

The room was much the same as it had been three weeks ago, only now there were no guardians posted at the corners of the bed. That was not so unnusual, they'd been sent off on little errands all the time. The only one still in the building was Birger himself.

“How's my boy?” the old man rasped.

“Better,” Birger said. “If you ask me he's completely healed. I just think they're trying to pretend he's not until they can get those knights off planet somewhere.”

“Can't blame'em,” the old man laughed. “A whole lotta trouble they don't want, that's how they see me. But then again so did everybody else. I built a reputation on it.”

Birger matched the old man's savage grin. As close as he could, at least, match a grin so legendary. All the life the dying man once had, all the vitality, the power, was still there in that grin. If only that could have been true of his entire body...

“So I leav'em to it?” Birger asked.

“Hell no!” the old man coughed a laugh. “No, you get him out tonight. I said I didn't blame'em, not that they were gonna get away with it.”

“Right,” Birger nodded. “Good. We'll have it all settled by morning, would be my guess.”

“I bet you will,” the old man said. “And if it goes bad, well....”

“It won't,” Birger said quietly. “Not with the four of us there.”

“Right,” the old man said. “Right. Go and get'em for me, Birger. Remind them all one last time who I am.”