“Now, this what I call a panic,” Alban’s voice came over the ship-to-ship com.

Rooks didn’t answer. She waited for word on the Halfmoon. It would be hard to find the ship amid thousands of Volanter vessels.

The Volanter evacuated. Every ship, big and small, fled the bubble. The bubble rippled, bulging in places. Inside, individual habitats ran into each other, and clouds melted. Holes sent colors and particles of energy in every direction.

The Volanter had good reason to panic. They probably panicked more at the sight of two warships, that suddenly entered their space.

“How is the disintegration of the time bubble?” Rooks asked of her crew.

“The spell has almost completely collapsed. The living space inside with it,” the mage answered.

“That’s not what we were hoping for,” Rooks said. “How many ships?”

“Over fifty.”

Rooks perked up. “Ah, some good news. Looking at this mess, I thought there were hundreds.”

“Well, Curator. There are almost one-hundred, but many of those vessels are small maintenance craft. Still, we don’t know how many ships they have elsewhere.”

Rooks frowned. The Volanter had a lot of ships, all painted in that pastel green. Some ships also sported rune decorations, but more showed floral images and branch patterns. Yes, the Volanter had a lot of beautiful ships. They also had some other interesting things.

Rooks peered out the Fauchard’s tall windshield. “Is that what I think it is?”

“The mirror?”

“The mirror.” Rooks never got to see the original in the flesh, but she’d seen pictures. “Where are the runes?”

“Other side.”

Rooks drew a quiet breath. “We better avoid that.” She leaned on the railing. She looked between the window and her screen and searched for magical opportunities.

It had been a year, and Rooks still worked on incorporating spellcraft into her strategies. Some mages offered up ideas; others waited for orders.

After a year, Rooks was getting the hang of things, and the mages that she’d picked for her ships were not the prodigies and ancient masters. She couldn’t convince most of them to join anyway, as the prestige those mages sought was not available aboard her ships. Instead, Rooks picked mages that could follow orders. They were less advanced in their magical capabilities, but they fit into the scheme of starship life better. The downside was that she sometimes missed good opportunities to use them.

None were quite so free with their magic and knowledge as Meladee, Camellia, and Eva. That trio sometimes made use of magic, even without Rooks’ approval.

The closest Rooks had to a new problematic trio were Inez and Eder Ferran. Inez and Eder were quick enough to offer their magical expertise, but the information they volunteered set a balance between blessing and annoyance. Rooks liked having them around, though their wormhole craft needed more work.

“What are we waiting for?” Alban asked.

“I’m just searching for a place that magic might be useful.”

“Well, I’d say there’s no need to put your mages to work,” Alban countered. “Those ships want nothing to do with us. Probably full of civilians, even the ones with armor and guns.”

“I agree. So, we need to find Halfmoon,” Rooks answered.

“Irini has the trail. Follow us.” Alban was good with magic. He worked with more limited arcanes, but he was quick to use them, always thinking of it.

The Ischyros pressed ahead, and the Fauchard followed.

Irini had control of the helm. Her hands shook as she tried to fly the massive ship, massive compared to ships she’d flown before. She felt even smaller, in the crew pit, below the point that arcanes usually worked. At least, she wasn’t flying the behemoth Fauchard.

Irini set the Ischyros on the golden highway, that lead through the panicked Volanter, to the ship of her friends.

The Volanter ships whizzed ahead, and Irini tried to squeeze into the space between them. She struggled, started, stopped, and repeated the pattern. The Volanter tried to put some distance between themselves and the rippling remains of their timefree bubble. The colors of their home rippled too. It looked broken, like a diorama of biomes, stacked in layers. Irini couldn’t imagine how so much of the living space could hold its shape as the planet broke up. Dripping, blackened clouds wove between the mess.

Irini heard a ding, followed by a dull bang.

“Oh,” Irini cried quietly.

She could have sworn she’d collided with a Volanter ship.

“Don’t worry about them,” Alban said.

Apparently, she had.

“Keep moving forward,” Alban ordered.

Irini pressed the controls forward, and the ship moved a little faster than she’d intended. She almost hit another Volanter.

“They will get out of your way,” Sotir said. “You can increase speed.”

Irini pushed the controls more, squinting her eyes against the harm she feared she would cause. The Ischyros coasted forward, and Irini steered it atop the golden highway.

Volanter ships zipped across her path, but they did indeed hurry out of the way.

“Fire on those medium sized ships. I saw circles coming from them,” Alban said. “We don’t want Volanter to catch us off guard.”

Someone fired on the ships. Irini didn’t give them a good shot. She kept moving, praying she wouldn’t be at the helm the moment someone actually decided to target the Ischyros.

“Can you have some mages work on that?” Alban asked of the com.

“I see it, and yes, I’m having shields cast. My ship and yours. Don’t get too far ahead,” Rooks answered.

Irini glanced back and up at Alban to see if she should slow.

“You’re fine,” he said.

Irini faced forward and set her eyes on the windshield. The large view gave her a clear picture of where she should go next. Though, her view wasn’t as good below as above.

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She spotted some stationary craft. They drifted in space. Hundreds of them. Some fell towards the distortion that had been the bubble. Others seemed to putter away, and the rest just remained. They dotted space, just beyond her golden highway.

Irini took a deep breath and stayed on it. The highway led to the mirror.

“I wonder what they use it for?” Sotir’s voice sounded dreamy, not in the way Pan found it dreamy, but as if he were on the edge of sleep.

Irini bet he looked into the mirror’s history. After what they’d done, the mirror didn’t have much of a future.

No one answered Sotir, except for Gavain. And, Gavain hummed a noncommittal answer. He was worried about Aria. No one knew she’d snuck away, not till she’d been gone nearly five hours.

When Irini located Aria, she didn’t know why Gavain and Alban showed so much concern and worry. Now, she had a guess. Aria did not have a disease. She would not die a slow, painful death or a sudden one. Gavain and Alban worried Aria was a danger to herself, probably having to do with whatever bothered the older arcane.

So, when Irini confirmed that Aria was not aboard, it brought Gavain some small relief because if Aria was not on the ship, she was with Pan and not alone. However, she was also in the middle of Volanter territory, and that was dangerous too.

“Irini. Rooks says we can’t look at the underside of that mirror, but the Halfmoon is under it, correct?” Alban pointed ahead.

Irini eased up on the controls and stared at Alban. “So, what are we going to do?”

The windshield shaded.

Alban pointed at it. “That for one. Once we get close enough, I want you to step away. I’ll turn the shading darker, and we’ll navigate by sensor. The Fauchard will not follow us under – just in case.”

Irini nodded. Her thread wove a path to the mirror and ducked under. Irini wove side to side. She followed the path down, beneath the mirror.

Half the starlight left, making the windshield tint seem darker.

Irini squinted. The golden highway glittered, and she concentrated on it. She looked ahead and only ahead. She didn’t let her gaze stray up. Then, her eyes widened. She’d found them!

“That’s the Halfmoon, right?” Irini pushed the ship the final distance. She had to stop at the mirror’s hinge.

“Yes, that’s the Halfmoon,” Alban said. “Tractor it out of there.”

Irini jumped as an officer touched her arm.

“Irini, give up the helm,” Alban ordered.

“Oh right.” Irini slipped out of the chair. She bumped the console’s edge and maybe hit a button as she pushed herself to her feet.

Irini tripped through the crew pit and grabbed the edge of the dais. She looked down the long trench that she found herself in and saw a ladder leading up as well as a door leading out. She was about to walk to one of those points. Instead, she squealed and found herself pulled onto the dais.

Alban had done it. He plopped her into a sitting position. “Out of the way.”

Irini crawled past him, got to her feet, and ran to the sides of Sotir and Gavain.

Gavain watched the outside view, but Sotir spared a look for Irini.

“Welcome back on the top,” he said.

“I took the shortcut.” Irini felt strange under the armpits, where Alban grabbed her. She was always ticklish in that spot, and the memory of fingers in her space, conjured yet more memories of long-ago tickles.

Sotir smiled. “I hear it has its ups and downs.”

Irini nodded.

“Why don’t you go to the infirmary and tell Chara to get ready, just in case.” Sotir’s smile disappeared, and his brow furrowed.

Irini frowned. “Okay.” She felt he added that ‘just in case’ to ease her nerves.

Rooks walked the halls of the Ischryos, doubling back on the wrong turn for the third time.

Alban fell into step beside her. “You lost?”

“No.” Rooks strode fast but could not outstep him. “I know where I’m supposed to go. I just take a wrong turn every now and then.”

“You’re pretty damn late,” Alban said.

“How are they?” Rooks didn’t look at him.

“Asleep. Not waking up. Their eyes aren’t fully closed, more like twenty-five percent open. Probably not a big risk of their eyes drying out, but the doctors are on top of it.” Alban took a sudden turn.

Rooks startled and then followed him down the right hall. She thought she’d heard him chuckle but couldn’t be sure. “Their eyes are easy to take care of. I’m more worried about their minds. How could they be so careless?”

“Your people or mine?” Alban shot Rooks a sideways glance.

Rooks sighed. “All of them. I still can’t figure out why the Volanter need a mirror that big.”

“We’ve studied the book, and it doesn’t give information on the why, just the how and the what. Now, a year or so ago, Pan met a Volanter that said the circle could be used for getting to know one another. That Volanter wasn’t exactly in her right mind, but she probably spoke the truth.” Alban made another abrupt turn and followed the curve of the hall. “My people took pictures and some video of the large mirror. They found shadowed images running over the surface, hard to see but present.”

Rooks gave him a hint of a smile. “So, someone watches the mirror?” Rooks shook her head. “Maybe, it could be used like that. Adalhard thought it might be considered a rite of passage. Now, he thinks it might be used for entertainment. Almost like a toy.”

Alban cocked his head. “A toy. That seems…a strange guess. Only the Volanter would need entertainment so disturbed.”

Rooks watched her feet. Grey deck tile flowed beneath her. She thought back to Camellia and the day they’d discovered her preference for the mirror. They told Camellia it wasn’t meant to be used as a toy, but it seemed they were all wrong.

“Yet, another possibility is that the mirror is used for defense, a weapon against invading armadas.” Alban shrugged. “I can’t say I like archaeology. Very imprecise because we can’t get a straight answer.”

“It’s not my favorite either,” Rooks said. “But, it’s possible the mirror fills all those roles. If it’s a favorite of the Volanter, they might have found a dozen ways to use it. I guess it doesn’t trap any of their people forever or cause long term side effects.”

“Oh, it does,” Alban countered. “The book warns so.”

Rooks hissed. “They are so sick.”

“I told you so.” He shielded his cheek.

Rooks didn’t attempt a swing. He had told her, and Rooks had to admit it.

“I’m sorry that you got caught up in this, but I don’t know how we would have made it this far without you.” Rooks kept her gaze on the walls.

More grey tile flowed by; everything looked the same.

“Playing with your wormhole was a bad call – not yours directly.” Alban leaned a little closer, sending warmth into her space, but only for a moment. “I don’t think either of us would make it without the other.”

Alban stopped at a door.

Rooks stopped too. She saw a sign but couldn’t read it.

“Infirmary. Sick bay. Whatever you prefer.” Alban gestured after you.

Rooks stepped closer. The infirmary door blinked green and slid open. Neither of their ships had a full complement of sliding doors. Sliding doors were very hard to seal against vacuum, so any door to the outside had to be hinged. Other doors, including the one to the Fauchard’s bridge, were hinged just for safety purposes.

Rooks crossed the threshold and waited just over the edge. Low lights gave the infirmary a dim, possibly relaxing, feel. Alban came to Rooks’ side and then beckoned her on. He brought her to a room. It was still, except for the soft voices of doctors and nurses in the corner.

Camellia, Meladee, Aria, and Pan each lay on their own narrow bed. Even Eva lay on a bed, with an engineer hovering above. Eva’s eyes opened wide and saw nothing. Camellia and the others looked at the world through slitted eyes.

Rooks guessed she had been in the same state when Ul’thetos dragged them all into its dream.

Adalhard sat beside Camellia, his eyes a bit red-rimmed. He pressed his hand over his mouth and stared at the floor.

Benham leaned against Meladee’s bed, bent in half, almost as if he prayed.

Gavain held the hand of Aria. He didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared into space.

Sten hovered over Eva. He held a scanner and brought it up and down her body, spending the most time over her head. If anyone was most qualified to assist Eva, it was Sten. He’d studied the schematics and workings of Eva and knew her body almost as well as his own.

Sotir also seemed calm and composed, but Rooks realized that might be an illusion. He stood by Pan’s bedside, leaning on his staff. He also stared into space, with eyes almost as closed as Pan’s.

In a corner waited Kat and Irini. Irini actively wept, but she was quiet about it.

Chara, the last of the Scaldin arcanes, spoke with the doctors. Her grey hair had escaped the confines of its tie, and dark shadows painted the space beneath her eyes.

“I see that all the arcane individuals are gathered. Inez and Eder might want to join us. I’d send for them, but someone has to be ready for an unlikely pursuit.” Rooks again looked over the room. “God, this is awful. They succeeded only to end up like this. I hate that spell.”

Alban raised a finger. “All my arcanes are not gathered. We have one more. I let him rest up before he attempts to go in and rescue them. As I understand it, they’re trapped in a dream puzzle, and we just so happen to have someone uniquely equipped to invade those dreams.”

Rooks stood a little straighter. “I forgot about Hagen. Ever since he got out of my dreams.”

Alban gave her an apologetic nod. “If it eases your mind, I’ve transported him twice and caught him in my dreams once. You have to be careful around arcanes. At least the worst thing he saw from your mind was Mr. Joto.”

Rooks clenched her hands. “Where is he?” She looked back at the door to the sick room.

Not a moment passed before Hagen stepped inside. “I’m ready,” he said. “Who should I start with?”

Sten perked up. “Eva maybe.”

Hagen shook his head. “Anyone but her. I don’t think I can get in without some practice. I need a better feel for...uh…people like you guys.”

“Of course.” Sten lowered his eyes back to Eva’s comatose form.

“Start,” Sotir began. “With Camellia. She seems more aware than the others.” Sotir tilted his staff towards Camellia’s sleeping form.

“That makes sense. This is a pastime of hers,” Rooks added.

Adalhard watched the conversation, with narrowed eyes. Finally, he spoke, “She’ll want you to keep the things you learn about her private. Please be respectful.”

Hagen nodded. “I will.”