In Alban’s dim and barren office, Rooks waited by the door. Sotir and Alban stood around the desk. One man leaned on his staff, bent with concern. The other stood tall and crossed his arms. The men - and Rooks - focused on the only person present to occupy one of the seats. Rooks strolled a little closer for a better look at the younger woman.

Pan’s hair was unwashed at best, taking on a shiny, inkier sheen. Her skin, well, that was always grey. No help there. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wild, looking very much like those of an addict of wakefulness. Of course, Pan was also pregnant.

“I don’t think you should take her up on the offer.” Rooks glanced at Alban.

He laughed, full of nerves. “No, definitely not. I’m just hiding her, until she gets back into shape.” He glanced at Sotir. “You said she’d be able to fight.”

“She will. After she rests,” Sotir answered.

“I can help. I came to fight.” Pan’s words lacked emotion and evoked an altogether creepy feeling that made its way across Rooks’ skin.

She fought the urge to shiver.

Sotir rounded the desk and came up behind Pan’s chair. He cradled his staff in the crux of his elbow and put his hands on Pan’s shoulders. “You don’t seem yourself.”

Pan blinked a few times. With narrowed, almost confused eyes, she looked up at Sotir. “Fine. I’ll rest. But, when are they coming?”

Sotir declined to answer.

“My dragon…”

“Now, hold on a second.” Alban shook his finger in the air. “The dragon. That’s useful, and before Pan rode it, it was happy to travel the battle on its own.” Alban spread his hands. “What if we asked the dragon for a favor? Maybe…to capture a prisoner? Someone with more recent information on the Volanter. I think we’ve all but tapped our ghost.”

Pan shot a look of suspicion Alban’s way. “You got rid of those bodies, right?”

Alban stiffened. He shook his head. “Not my call. Sorry.”

Rooks sighed. The ghost was supposed to be off the hook.

Pan sat forward in her seat and seemed to gain some clarity, though she still looked like crap. Before Pan could make further objections, Alban held up a hand to silence her.

“Not now.” He looked between Rooks and Sotir. “What if we send out Pan’s dragon as bait for a certain Volanter, who idolizes her.” Alban smiled and raised his eyebrows.

“Gladiolus.” Pan slowly sat back and rested.

Sotir clutched his staff and gave Alban a stare of daggers. “I don’t want him aboard, and I doubt he’ll be of much use.”

Alban shrugged. “He could tell us their plan.”

“I can tell you their plan,” Sotir said. “And, their plan changes, as they make adjustments to deal with what they find over here. And, what they think I know.”

Rooks planted her hands on the desk and leaned over it. As she thought, she looked down at the smooth, pristine metal. “How would we even get Gladiolus? Pan couldn’t beat him on her own. The dragon certainly can’t do it.”

Alban held up one finger. “Suppressant.”

“Well, if you can modify a fighter to shoot little tranquilizer darts…have the dragon carry him back.” Rooks shook her head. “Otherwise, I don’t think so. I thought the suppressant was for face-to-face combat, which you don’t seem to be getting a lot of. Thank god.”

Alban wagged his finger. “No. No. No. We don’t need any of that. We just hand the suppressant to the dragon. It pursues Gladiolus with all of the viscous rage that Pan tries to pretend isn’t a part of her, and then, it stabs him with it. It’s a clever beast. I say we try.”

Rooks straightened and crossed her arms. “It has to get through the scale cage. It’s a long shot, and they’re probably coming in less than twenty min…”

“Ten,” Sotir interrupted.

Rooks gestured to Sotir. “He says ten. How fast can you get this ready? How fast can you clear this with your superiors?”

“I don’t think... I don’t think this is the best idea. I don’t need more trouble with superiors, and Pan really shouldn’t spend too much time immersed in that dragon’s psyche. I thought the Volanter would be gone longer.” Sotir shook his head and divided a look between Alban and Rooks.

“So, I’ll take the blame. It would be hypocritical of you not to let me.” Alban gave Sotir a pointed look. “As for Pan’s safety, she won’t fight. She’ll send out the dragon. It’s barely any work for her.” Alban gestured to Pan.

Pan said nothing. She also stared at Alban’s pristine desk, possibly wondering if the man had some phobia against clutter.

“Pan,” Alban said gently. “You summon the dragon when the Volanter show up.” Alban pulled a needle of suppressant from his boot. “We’ll give it this to use as a makeshift shiv.”

Pan took the needle gingerly, careful to hold it far from her person. “It’ll love this.”

“Yes, it will,” Alban agreed.

Sotir took the suppressant slowly from Pan’s hands and also held it with care. “I don’t know about this.” He sighed. “Pan…how is your dragon situation?”

Alban held Sotir’s cautious gaze. “I won’t get her killed. I promise. You can stay with her while she works. She can pace herself.”

Sotir held the suppressant far from his person. He frowned, and the worry never seemed to leave his eyes.

“I don’t like this.” Rooks frowned at Pan.

Pan frowned back.

“This is very last minute,” Rooks said. “It hasn’t been discussed with anyone higher up the chain. It’s…”

“I just thought of it. Now - superiors…I’ll call them now.” Alban pulled a handheld com from his belt. He strode around his desk and left Rooks with the Strands.

Maybe, they were the Strands. She wasn’t sure if Panphila was the type to keep her name or not. The moment she found herself in, was not the moment to ask.

Pan stood on the bridge of the Ischyros, right on the very edge, by the large window. Her dragon sat on its haunches before her, arms outstretched, palms up. Pan lowered the syringe into the dragon’s hands.

“Now, don’t miss. Bring him back, powerless.”

The dragon’s red eyes seemed to smile. So, did its craggy jaws. Its claws curled around the syringe.

Pan smiled back. “Good, familiar.” She conjured a portal out. “Off you go. Stay focused.”

The dragon streamed out the portal. Pan watched it enter the fight. She dispelled her portal fast, allowing her dragon to hide and blend against the dark.

When she lost sight of it, Pan turned and crossed the walk to the dais. She took a seat – Alban’s to be precise.

The battle had already begun, but on the Ischyros – a refuge for useful but weak arcanes – Pan could see little but lights and magic spells.

She rested her cheek against her hand. Sotir walked to her side and knelt by Alban’s chair. Pan lifted her head to get a better look at him.

He grimaced and touched his forehead. “I have to work now, but if you feel at all tired or…dragony…please stop. There will be other fights.”

Pan looked upon his concern for her, with equal concern for him. “If I get tired, I will stop. What about you?”

Sotir relaxed and rose from his crouch. He smiled a little, as he answered, “I’ll stop when we win.”

Pan huffed. She stared out the windshield and remained in the dark as to her dragon’s whereabouts. Probably for the best.

Flashes and twirling streaks of light announced spinning circles. She felt she could just steal one and send it askance to do her biding. She only had to get closer.

Rooks sidled over. “I think the most interesting part of this battle will occur on the flank closest to us. You can see that it’s a pretty standard setup. Rows and columns. Formation set directly against formation. But, that flank is trying to go around behind. If they join up with the wormhole defenders, they might just take out all of those ships.”

Pan continued to rest her head in her hand. “That would be nice.”

Pan could feel Rooks’ eyes suddenly on her. The Curator stared down and into Pan’s petulant mood.

“I mean we’d better watch the spell craft now,” Rooks said. “We won’t see as much when those ships move.”

Pan took up Rooks’ suggestion and watched the spells. She counted a handful of rotating rings. They stayed in play long and remained easy to spot. Most volleys from those spells met Iruedian shields. Iruedian spells, likewise, ran up against the Volanter’s new ship-wide enchantments and shields. Pan perked up when she saw a rayed circle.

“They take a little longer to go off.” Rooks grabbed the arm of the chair. Her fingers looked tight. “I think that’s going to be a bad one.”

“What are you still doing here?” Pan asked. “Aren’t you going to head back to Iruedim?”

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Rooks removed her hand from the chair and relaxed. The rayed spell met an Iruedian defender, and a swarm of beasts set upon the Volanter mage.

Rooks folded her hands in front of her. “I don’t know when I’ll head back. I want to do more than I am.”

Pan looked at her lap. “Me too.”

There wasn’t much to see in Pan’s lap, except the curve of her dress and some embroidered flowers, with trails of shooting stars. Alban’s shoes strayed close, but they were simple and black. He walked away again.

A slow smile spread over Pan’s face. “By the way,” she whispered. “How are things with A-L-B-A-N? Is his aura keeping to itself?”

Rooks stiffened, and her folded hands tightened. “Actually, for the most part it is.”

Pan slumped. “Oh.”

Rooks cleared her throat. “So, are you Panphila Strand now? Or still Panphila Ithir?” Rooks kept her eyes on the view outside as she spoke.

Pan, however, turned her gaze to Rooks. “Strand. Why?”

“Where I come from, it’s not common to change your name. But on Iruedim. Oh, on Iruedim…” Rooks shook her head. “It’s the other way around.”

Pan felt her eyes narrow. “It’s just a name. I’ve never cared that much.” Pan nodded towards Sotir. “Besides, I need a fresh start. Fresh name. I’ll borrow his for the reputation boost.”

“Well, I’m not too sure about the reputation boost,” Rooks said.

With that, they both turned their full attention to the battle.

Rooks crossed her arms and remained by Alban’s chair. She’d tried to engage Pan in conversation, but the young woman still had a mischievous streak and would rather play mind games, while a battle raged that they couldn’t join.

And, the battle did rage, looking unnaturally distant, at least, to Rooks. She had never been this far from an exchange of fire – gunfire and spellfire both.

Speaking of spellfire, Rooks thought she had a real handle on it. She’d seen plenty of it during Iruedim’s short war with the Volanter, and though she wasn’t an expert, she could spot the powerful spells – the ones that meant trouble.

They lit up the battlefield in a way that spoke to Rooks. She didn’t know what all the runes and circles meant, but she could tell the strongest from the weakest – the ones that should make her nervous vs those who’s outcome meant little.

A large set of overlapped rings lit up the Volanter’s nearby flank. Rooks could imagine the music it made, though the sound would never form. Her eyes flicked to the nearby Iruedians. She counted two pairs of fighter and mage. Neither turned for the large spell.

“That looks bad. Is anyone on that?” she asked.

“That does look bad. I called it in. Probably too late,” Alban said.

“No one’s getting it.” Rooks watched as the Scaldin vessel, just ahead of the spell, backed up.

The Scaldin vessel invited the Volanter forward. It tried to avoid the powerful spell but, in so doing, began to destroy their chance to outmaneuver the Volanter. Rooks wasn’t angry with the Scaldin commander. He or she tried to preserve the ship. Rooks was angry about her mages and what they weren’t doing.

Alban hissed. “Oh, come on.”

The Iruedian fighters fled the space. The overlapped ring grew brighter, but runes still shifted. It wouldn’t set off yet. Just ahead of the targeted Scaldin vessel, a large, extra shield waved, in the shape of a half bubble.

“Well, they cleared the area and got that shield up. Is it enough?” Alban asked.

“No.” Rooks shook her head.

When she first arrived on Iruedim, she thought that the other Iruedian commanders knew the spells. She’d come to realize they knew almost as little as she did. It was hard to be both expert in combat and magical strategy. She felt, that as Curator of Iruedim’s space navy, she had to be the one to do it – like Alban.

Alban had the sense of what needed to be done when it came to arcane powers. He didn’t understand Iruedian magic as well, but Rooks knew that would be a lot to ask.

Alban sucked in a breath. Rooks held her own.

The overlapped rings glowed brighter, ready to finish. Then, the ring shot backwards and collided with a Volanter vessel. The resulting explosion left the Volanter ship ruined.

The Scaldin vessel, with its new rippling shield, surged forward. Others followed, and the wormhole defenders began to move.

Rooks relaxed. The maneuver was saved.

Pan exhaled. “Oh, look. You were right.”

“That your doing?” Alban asked quietly.

Pan nodded. Her eyes darted to Sotir.

“Tired?” Alban asked.

“I’m alright.” Pan’s hands shook. “It was just on the edge of my range. I don’t know if I can grab anything else.”

“Then, don’t.” Alban warned.

Rooks was glad of the help, but she didn’t want to see Pan truly out of the fight. She almost echoed Alban’s word of warning.

Rooks looked back to the battle.

The Volanter favored the rotating circles – a side effect of the Rhizo’s dominance. However, as the battle continued, Rooks counted three rayed spells, as well as a few dual-ringed.

The Iruedian spells countered. They lit up the space between, with sometimes three, four, or more rings. They disgorged beasts, which came under attack by Volanter familiars.

Once every few moments, a multi-maged spell spanned the sky, alight with foreboding. Volanter did not employ as many multi-maged spells. Their spells called for a certain flavor of individuality.

Rooks jumped a little as the multi-ringed spell unleashed a shower of sparks and light. She recognized it as fire and lightning rolled into one. The Volanter answered with the shattering spell, but it didn’t make a dent in the Scaldin’s newly enchanted hulls. It merely pushed the ships apart.

Failed summons floated in the empty space between the ships. Rooks couldn’t tell whether they’d died by enemy weapons, or simply lacked the ability to handle vacuum. Rooks counted one unlucky rabbit, with glassy eyes, serving at least some purpose, as it blocked a Volanter ship’s path.

“I could do more than send my familiar out to grab a single Volanter,” Pan said.

Rooks startled to hear the venom in Pan’s voice. Where it was directed, Rooks didn’t know. “I think in your state, you probably need rest more than an invitation to do battle.”

Pan turned a quick, angry gaze to Rooks. She still looked like hell, with the messy hair and those wild eyes. Though, her hands grew steady.

Rooks just raised her eyebrows.

Pan looked away, and Rooks did the same.

Rooks’ eyes widened to see a rotating spell, hovering before a nearby ship. The Volanter was much bigger. Rooks held her breath in anticipation of Alban’s order to engage and help the Scaldin vessel. They had no choice.

Another ship beat him to it.

Alban said, “Move away. We’re way too close to this battle.” Alban walked the aisle back to the dais and came to wait by his chair. He tapped some keys on the chair’s arm.

Pan put her hands in her lap to give him clear access.

Alban watched out the window as they all but fled the battle.

Rooks opened her mouth to speak.

“Is that better?” Alban called to Sotir.

Sotir, who stood at the edge of the raised walk, by the large window, called back, “Yes. Much.”

Rooks shut her mouth. She disliked that Alban’s role in the whole war was to serve as vantage point for a seer. In fact, it seemed most of Alban’s strategies were to get out of danger as fast as possible. And, he was good at it.

The mages and the two ships under attack from the giant rotating circle, however, were in the thick of it. The circle released flaming spell after flaming spell. When it was over and the magic cleared, Rooks saw the ships’ hulls, dusted in cinder. The damage appeared to be mostly cosmetic, and Iruedian spells followed, swallowing the Volanter ship.

When the battle got deep enough, both sides tended to abandon their guns and spew magic at each other instead.

“Thinking of stuff you could do to them?” Alban asked both women by his chair. His eyes moved between Pan and Rooks.

Pan didn’t answer. She just gave Alban a look and kept her chin in her hand.

Rooks said, “I can see why you don’t have your own fleet of ships. You like to play it a little too safe.” She meant to take Alban off his guard, rib him a little for his acceptance of the cowardly missions.

Alban answered, “Exploration is my favorite. Chasing a lone criminal – not too bad. Research and patrol – top notch assignments. Battles of this size...” He shook his head. “They’re too much. I prefer the little skirmishes. That’s just enough excitement for me. That’s why I hang on to Sotir.” Alban gestured Sotir’s way.

Sotir turned around as soon as he heard his name. “Those three large ships above the main plane of battle are going to drop down and try to rescue those injured vessels below them. I see that they will succeed if you don’t stop them, and we’ll miss quite a few kills.”

“I’ll call it in,” Alban said, and he did just that.

Rooks almost found herself shaking her head. They had different preferences for certain, but it was nice that he didn’t compete with her. Rooks looked him over.

He noticed and tidied his clothing.

She smiled.

“Any news on Gladiolus?” Alban asked Pan.

Pan tossed up her hands in a shrug. “What? Do you want me to see through the dragon’s eyes? Don’t you think that will obliterate all progress I’ve made towards gold?”

“No. If you can watch through its eyes, do it,” Alban said.

Rooks frowned. She was a bit lost, not about watching through the dragon’s eyes, though she really wasn’t clear on the details of that either. After all, Iruedians used summons not familiars. What baffled Rooks most was the comment about gold. Why was gold such an important goal?

“Fine. I’ll try to see through its eyes. I take no responsibility if I faint, and Sotir tries to beat you with his staff,” Pan said.

“He would never, but I’d like to see him try,” Alban answered.

Pan narrowed her eyes, till she could barely see the battle. She thought of her familiar and felt a shiver of sneakiness pass through her body. It was one of the most pleasurable things known to Pan.

Let me see, she thought.

She kept her eyes half lidded, and she glimpsed a view of space, from the hull of a ship. The battle raged above and ahead; magic was in the air.

She felt coiled on the hull, flattened, and she felt that syringe, clutched in a hand that might as well have been hers.

She scampered on the outside of the hull and into a crevice between two turrets. The turrets fired, and heat passed over her head. The vibrations of the guns reached her fur and sent shivers through each strand.

She saw him. Gladiolus and his battle Eidos galloped through the scene. He was a good mage, a truly good one. He destroyed one fighter and sent it careening into another. Two Iruedian mages died in the resulting explosion, all completely in silence.

Pan clenched her jagged jaw.

Gladiolus had three Iruedian fighters on him. Pilots and mages both focused on the one Volanter rider. Gladiolus dodged the first spell. He shielded himself against the second and sent off a quick healing spell as well. His choreographed rings completed their dance with a retaliation of light against the third fighter.

The third zipped a short distance away, and the other two circled, new spells in play.

Gladiolus landed on the Scaldin ship, only a short distance from Pan’s place among the turrets. He hid in a place the Iruedians did not want to target, and he looked up.

Pan grinned and slid on her belly, fast. She reared up and had that stupid Eidos in her claws. Her claws pried at the scaled dome and pulled and pulled. A tiny crack formed.

The Eidos thrashed. Gladiouls got off a spell, but not a nice choreographed round. He just managed to give himself a kind of spacesuit that shimmered over his body.

Pan pried the Eidos’ back open, and Gladiolus swam free. Pan raked the Eidos with her back claws and pushed it away. It brayed in silence.

Gladiolus began a series of spells, but the Iruedian mages shielded Pan from the first.

She grabbed hold of Gladiolus’ tentacles and pulled, puffing a silent laugh. She stabbed the syringe into his hip, not caring if it hurt him. The needle met the magic suit and strained, but she continued to apply pressure, until she weakened that pinprick of magic. The needle popped through. His circle spun slower and slower, and then it failed and faded into nothing.

Pan threw the emptied syringe aside, pulled Gladiolus into her grip, and flew through the Eidos as it dispelled.

She blinked quick and sat up straight. “Oh, we have him.” She smiled at Alban.

“Good.” He grinned back. “Not too tired, I hope.”

Pan couldn’t say that. She wanted a good sleep, but she intended to have some fun with Gladiolus once she awoke, all under Sotir’s supervision of course. Wouldn’t that rub Gladiolus the wrong way?

Slowly, Pan frowned. She’d have to bring Aria along. Gladiolus’ aura needed to be read. Aria would get to see all the dark feelings, flowing between them. Gladiolus’ capture and sort of torture wasn’t exactly a gold thing to do, and Aria would not love to see Pan struggling along the path she’d chosen, losing almost all her ground.

Pan closed her eyes and drifted off. She resolved to have a distinct lack of fun with the situation, but a promise made half asleep wasn’t the strongest.

“They’re leaving,” Rooks breathed. “Finally. What were your losses?”

Alban shrugged. “I don’t know. They don’t tell me these things the minute the dust clears. But, if you want our estimates here on the Ischyros, I can get those, either from my tactician or Sotir.”

Sotir answered first as he strode across the dais, “Just one ship lost this time, but ten are damaged and probably can’t join the next fight. The Volanter will keep up this pace, and I believe they have about thirty percent more ships than we do. The good news is we tend to take out more of theirs, thanks to the Iruedian magical advancements. We will wear away at each other. It remains to be seen who will run out first.” Sotir knelt before Pan.

She had her eyes closed, and she leaned against one side of Alban’s chair. Sotir touched her hand and watched her face. He got no response, other than steady breath.

Sotir stood, using his staff as aide. He touched his temple. “Can someone carry her back for me? Maybe, have a nurse look her over.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you someone.” And, Alban walked off to find that someone.

Rooks sidled close to Sotir. “They’re hitting you harder than they hit us. I’m sorry. I hope your people will let us offer you the protection that our anti-wormhole spells have been providing us.”

Sotir shook his head. “It won’t work. They can just wormhole to another species’ system. We knew the fight would be worse for us. Thank you, for whatever help you can give.”

Rooks nodded. It just didn’t seem like enough.