We hit a door that looked promisingly hangar-like. I felt a buzz of excitement —this was it, I was going home. But as Grigor swung the door open and gestured for me to go ahead, a twinge of sadness gripped me. Elyria, I hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye. "Why couldn't I find her?" I whispered to no one, my voice lost in the vastness of the moment.

Inside the hangar, I was awestruck. It felt like stepping onto a Star Wars set. An actual spaceship stood before me, dwarfing the helicopters from my Navy days on the LPD ship. My excitement mounted as I approached, barely noticing Octaviok, the Iron Princess, waiting. It amazed me she was here alone, in an otherwise deserted hangar.

Closing the distance to the ship, my initial thrill waned as I took in its condition. The utilitarian design spoke of function over form, its metallic gray hull marred by rust and signs of makeshift repairs. Damage and wear were evident, from missing panels to battle scars. I could see that the ship wasn’t symmetrical, hinting at numerous field modifications and repairs that were likely done quickly or with limited resources.

There were visible signs of damage and wear: panels missing here and there, exposing the internal wiring and components, which looked jury-rigged to keep the ship operational. The battle scars, including blaster marks and scratches across the hull, indicate the ship had seen combat and likely survived more than a few close calls.

The antennas protruding from various points on the ship suggested it was well-equipped for communication or scanning, possibly indicating its use for exploration or reconnaissance. The cockpit dome, though worn, offered a wide field of view, essential for navigating through hazardous environments. The thrusters at the back were covered in soot and burn marks, showing signs of heavy use, implying this ship had traveled vast distances and possibly pushed beyond its intended limits on more than one occasion.

My excitement turned to frustration at the sight of the battered bucket of bolts. Octaviok caught my mood shift immediately. Her defensiveness was palpable, I thought my new abilities were helping me sense them, though she quickly masked it. I wondered if her control was due to her being stronger than me. She explained, almost defensively, that this was the only ship available. "Be thankful," she said. "Ships capable of gate travel are rare now. You wouldn't make it through system portals to Earth, they're closed for twenty-five years."

The reality of Earth's situation hit me hard. When I pressed for more information, she shut me down. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't tell you more," she said curtly.

I decided to steer the conversation another way since she wouldn't divulge more about Earth. "Why aren't there more ships? I know the Hegemony is powerful, can't they build more?"

She stared at me for a moment, her gaze heavy with unspoken words. "I suppose it won't hurt to tell you," she finally said, her voice a mix of resignation and caution. "The system isn't native to this galaxy, some say it isn't even from this universe. It came with the dragons, and ever since, nearly all growth and innovation has been centered on sustaining the system."

Her revelation left me dumbfounded, what the hell was she talking about? "So where did the ship come from? And all the tech I see?"

"Everything you see is leftover from when the system was first implemented. We can't create new tech or even recreate many of the old designs, but we can maintain and salvage what's already here."

Her impatience flickered as she cut off any further inquiry. "We need to get on with this," she insisted, her tone brooking no argument. "I have many duties to attend to."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Then she immediately changed the subject and began to warn me about my dimensional inventory space. Once the ship left the hangar, everything I had would spill out.

“Be especially careful of your dragon egg” She warned. “Without proper care, it could hatch and become a problem. A deadly problem. My advice.” She said, pausing for dramatic effect, I’d guess. “My advice would be to sell me the egg. And spend your profits on gear for your suicidal mission to save your doomed planet.

In a mild panic, I said, “Any chance there's a Plan B? I've kinda taken a shine to this uh, Shelly here. You can call it paternal instinct if you’d like.” For the life of me I had no idea where that name came from. I had never considered naming it until this moment. I guess the thought of losing my last companion shocked the notion right in to me.

She responded coldly. “If you insist on keeping it you could buy a dimensional space from me that is just big enough for the egg that could keep it in stasis until you arrive.” She must have sensed my relief at that because she added. "Be warned, many would kill you and yours just to destroy the egg.”

"Why?" I asked, puzzled by the hatred for dragons.

She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand. "I don't have time to educate you on common knowledge. Ask your mentor."

But my mentor was gone. "How do I buy this space?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.

“Show me what you have” was her only response.

I emptied my inventory for Octaviok and Grigor to inspect. Is this all you got? I could hear their eyebrows asking. It didn’t feel like enough, I was terrified it wouldn’t be enough. I couldn’t lose another one. I was running out of people and things I cared about. After a brief discussion, they turned to make me an offer.

Octaviok broke the silence, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "We'll offer you the space, in exchange for all of your possessions earned in the tournament. Your gear, including your fancy axe, dagger, and shield. Everything. Your first aid kits, bandages, survival kit. Everything. Give us those, and we will give you a dimensional space that will work."

I blinked, incredulous. "So, I'm supposed to traipse around weaponless and in my skivvies?" Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, calculating, before she offered a compromise. "We have some basic leather armor we can provide, and you can keep your shield. But, this comes with a debt—you owe us a favor." Her eyes bore into mine, waiting for my response.

Without hesitation, I agreed. "How bad can it be? I've got to survive first to owe anything."

At my acceptance, she scoffed, and Grigor chimed in with a tone of disdain, "See, Your Majesty, I told you. You're wasting it on him. Even he knows he's on borrowed time."

I feigned outrage, "How dare you!"

Octaviok's reply was a stark warning, "Don't make an enemy of Grigor. In combat, he is unmatched."

Grigor turned to her, saluting crisply, "The best."

I stood there, saying "Okay..." my voice trailing off in confusion.

Then, with a swift movement, Octaviok removed a ring from her finger. "There are leathers in here for armor, and this will serve as your dimensional space." Her words were brisk, leaving no room for debate. When I asked if I could find somewhere to change, her response was a flat "No." My request for her to turn around was met with the same refusal.

So, with a deep breath, I stripped down to my undergarments right there, my cheeks burning. As I handed over my tournament spoils, they exchanged them for the ring. I couldn't help but notice the way Octaviok's eyes lingered on me, a mix of appraisal and something… else... She was undeniably striking, similar to what I always imagined Orcs to be but much more uh… symmetrical and shapely… her beauty rivaled Elyria's, but in a more, athletic way, and her commanding presence stirred... something in me. I quickly shook off the thought, focusing on the task at hand.

Pulling the leather armor from the dimensional space, I dressed hastily, the material feeling foreign against my skin. Once armored, I placed the dragon egg into the newly acquired dimensional space, securing it from any potential threats or accidents. I guess there was nothing left to do but leave. With thanks and a nod to the two Orcs I turned to my ship.