(On the Hunt) Chapter 22

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 22

The Next Phase

The Glis were supposed to be one of the easier alien races to comprehend. They were about what you'd get if you took a common gray mouse, made it the size of a golden retriever, then gave it a forked prehensile tail and an aura of ageless nobility. One of their four Grand Convoys had accepted an offer to settle among humans when the Alliance was founded, making them a common sight in the Atlantis and Pacifica sectors; they were a known quantity.

Or not.

Apparently, the Glis who lived around Earth were a single distinct subrace. The ones on Gliskor were shockingly bright white or metallic shades rather than mousy gray, and wore heavy robes of shimmering silks rather than the light tunics common to their brethren. Some of that probably had to do with their planet having just a small fraction of Earth's gravity… which had probably been in the briefing, but somehow nobody had noticed it.

Not entirely true. Lance and Sven had noticed it; it was kind of important for landing. Whether they'd forgotten to consider it would also be important for walking, or had just thought it would be funny not to mention? Their teammates had their suspicions.

In any case, half of Explorer Team 686 was in an embarrassed heap at the bottom of their boarding ramp, trying to disentangle themselves without bouncing halfway down the concrete, when a mottled gold Glis in electric-blue robes calmly trotted up to them. "Alikria-ka, honored Earthlings! Welcome to Iskor-i Chakchira. Do you require assistance?"

"Uh, no," Hunk grunted from the bottom of the pile, trying to push Sven's foot out of his face. "Totally cool here."

The Glis leaned forward, twitching its nose slightly. "Pardon me for my doubt, but are you quite sure?"

Sven kicked Hunk in the mouth—lightly—before he could say anything else. "We would appreciate some assistance, yes."

As the Glis scurried away, Lance burst into laughter from the top of the ramp. "That was beautiful, guys." He flipped his datapad's recorder off and tucked it into his pocket; Flynn was going to love it.

Several people glowered up at him, and Hunk shifted out of Sven's kicking range. "Dude, I can punch you when we're back in normal gravity, you know."

Lance feigned shock. "Punch this face?"

"Don't think I said face…"

"Like you wouldn't have done the same thing, dude."

Smirk. "Why d'you think I'm gonna punch you? You left me outta the fun!"

None of this was actually helping the team get out of their predicament. Daniel was stuck on the bottom of the pile; that wasn't as bad as it would have been in normal gravity, but it was bad enough. "I'm being squashed down here," he grumbled, starting to try to shove his way out from under everyone. His first success was dislodging Vince, who landed next to the ramp squarely on his butt.

"Ow…"

The Glis returned with a vehicle that bore a vague resemblance to a golf cart, pulling it up right beside them and setting the brakes. "Here, there are handholds, if you can be aided by such."

This must happen a lot. Keith, who'd managed to fall off the ramp just removed from the rest of the pile, pulled himself up with the cart and turned to help the others. Which at least was something the gravity made easier. As he helped Vince up, Hunk grabbed the cart and got to his feet, freeing Sven and Daniel.

Watching the group get themselves sorted out, Lance decided this was his cue to leave. "See ya, suckers!"

"Yeah you better run!" Hunk yelled after him, laughing and shaking his fist. Daniel ran back up the ramp after him, eager to get back into the Bolt's artificial gravity… and to see just how bad the video actually was.

The Glis' whiskers were twitching again. Keith had the suspicion it was holding down a laugh. "Welcome again to Iskor-i Chakchira, honored Earthlings. I am Brother Nim, of the Guidance Bureau. How may I assist you?"

"Apologies, um… honored Glis." Not for the first time, Keith was wishing he'd had a much better protocol briefing than the database had actually provided. "We're looking for a library."

"A-chila." Nim flicked his tail. "Which sort of library? Many to be found here."

"Something with a great deal of history. Maybe especially information on individual planets." As Keith spoke, Sven and Vince were warily eyeing the cart. They both had suspicions on where this was about to go.

They weren't wrong. "You are best served to start with the repository of ancient records, I should think. Come, I will take you to the Archive." Motioning to the cart, their guide hopped up onto the front platform, which seemed to have an array of pedals and no other controls.

Hunk took a few careful steps away from the cart, adjusting as best he could to the gravity, then grinned at his teammates. "I'm gonna go find out about refueling. Have fun at the library, guys!" He started off towards the center of the spaceport.

"What you seek is in the other direction," Nim called after him worriedly.

"…Oh." The big engineer stopped, blinking. "I knew that." He wheeled around and headed off with a sheepish grin.

The other three climbed into the cart with varying degrees of trepidation. It wasn't helped much when Nim looked back at them and said with complete earnestness, "Strapping yourselves in would be well advised."

"Thank you." Keith found the straps and buckled in tightly, watching the others do the same. Vince was clearly worried, while Sven just looked a little bit disgruntled.

It had nothing to do with the cart or the Glis. Why doesn't Lance give us that kind of warning?

Once they were secured, the cart zoomed off. The engine was quiet and the streets were smooth; on a normal planet it would have been a very nice ride. But this was not a normal planet. Even the tiniest bumps were magnified, and the cart came up off half its wheels with every turn. In fact, based on how the chassis shifted, it was designed to do precisely that.

The fact that it was operating within design parameters was less reassuring than Vince would've thought. "Oh my gosh I wish I swore!"

"Always time to start, honored Earthling!" Nim offered helpfully. "Or so I have heard from others."

Snort. "I have heard that before."

"Perhaps the advice is wise, then. Hold tight, the journey is not long." As he spoke they hit something that sent the cart bouncing at least two feet in the air.

Even though he was strapped in, Sven grabbed the side of the cart with all his strength. "Swearing will not make this easier!" That was a position he held in general, but he was applying it with extra certainty here.

Keith just grabbed a handhold and stayed quiet. It was going to be yet another interesting day.

*****

"Dude, you're gonna love me today."

Flynn had rarely ever been so happy to have his face buried in a pillow. It meant his immediate reaction to Lance's entrance could be kept all to himself. Once he fought the blush down he rolled over slightly, giving the pilot a skeptical look. "What did you steal?"

Snort. "How did you know? I stole back three books I let Daniel borrow, because he's not reading them. And I have some hilarious video for you to watch."

"Your mission to make him enjoy reading is going that well?" Flynn sat up, grimacing a little.

"I don't think he even cracked them open… I'll have to try again. But hey, new material for you." He set the books down on a table outside the containment field—they'd have to undergo a quick decontamination blast before Flynn could actually have them—and sat down, pulling his chair as close to the field as he could. "Take you what, an hour to read them all?"

Flynn laughed. "I'll space them out. So what disaster have I missed?"

"I might have forgotten to remind everyone we're on a low-grav planet." Smirking, he cued up the video and held it up. "It was glorious."

Leaning over to watch, the engineer snickered and shook his head. "Innocent mistake, I'm sure."

"That's me… innocent!" Lance grinned, studying his friend carefully. "You're looking," he really wanted to say good, which was a given, "closer to your normal shade of pale."

"Not sure how to take that." Flynn eyed him. "You're not going out to flirt with mice? I hear they're cute."

"I thought about it," he really hadn't, "but tails. Ugh." He shuddered. Scaly mouse tails were just creepy.

Flynn—who had been gifted the callsign Tails once in the Academy, then again on his first assignment, and most recently had it dug up by Jace—glowered at him. "Excuse me?"

"Oh come on! Awesome hair does not count."

"According to my old crewmates it did." Amused, Flynn leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. For a minute they just sat in comfortable silence. Then he sighed. "Have I mentioned how weird that was?" He felt like he had, really, but with as much as he'd been out of it lately he could have imagined the whole thing.

Not only had he mentioned it before, he'd mentioned it repeatedly before. Lance didn't care; he leaned forward. "What was weird?" They could have this conversation fifty more times if Flynn wanted.

"Having to patch up an engine bay and sit around under medical supervision like this is a normal mission."

Snort. "You act like walking into high radiation is just your normal Tuesday."

"You know how many times I'd done that before I was ten?" Flynn retorted. Not so much since he was ten, admittedly. That absolutely wasn't the point. He definitely felt like they'd had this part of the conversation before…

"Nope, and it doesn't change my mind. I need to know the moment you're good enough to take a punch, because I'm gonna fucking hit you."

Yes. That he'd heard before. "Haven't you already done that?" He absently rubbed the long-healed bruise on his jaw.

"Pfft. That punch doesn't count, I didn't even know you then."

"Oh, so now that you know me you want to punch me again." Smirk. "Didn't expect I'd be the member of the crew that applied to, but alright."

Lance scowled at him, though he was secretly pleased to be snarked at. It seemed like a sign of recovery. "Don't risk your life and we won't have an issue."

"I didn't risk anything!" Flynn was mildly offended, despite knowing he'd just lied. Just a little. If it hadn't been for Lauda, he'd be looking at a few more months in here. That… wouldn't help his case.

"You risked being stuck with Jace for weeks," Lance shot back. "You're certifiable."

…Okay, that one he couldn't argue with. "That's fair. You can punch me. Not now though, if you cross that containment field he'll make both our lives hell. Moreso than usual."

"The minute you're on your feet, knocking you right back on your ass." He winked, then glanced at the clock. They were coming up on their ten minutes. "You know he wouldn't even let me bribe him to let me stay longer? Who the hell isn't susceptible to bribes?"

Somehow Flynn wasn't surprised by either part of that. "What were you trying to bribe him with?"

"Money for his hookers. Figured I could skip a few weeks at the comic book shop, and I mean, it's kind of a charitable donation, right? Sure as fuck needs the help."

Flynn burst into laughter.

Grinning—he kind of loved that sound—Lance let him go until he started coughing, then waved for silence. "Okay breathe now, or he won't let me back in."

That was reasonably motivating; the engineer regained his composure. "He told me he has to go out and restock while we're on the ground. Made me promise not to let anyone visit while he's gone." He feigned worry, indicating the IVs and the containment field. "I don't know what he expects me to do about it, though. I can't really move far enough to chase you out."

"Oh yeah?" Smirk. "I'm great at sneaking around."

"I'll bet you are." Flynn arched an eyebrow. "Not a bit conspicuous."

"Nah, I'm great at blending into the background." He was not fooling either of them.

"Good. We'll test your ninja abilities."

"Just, you know… let's not have your ninja test me."

For a moment Flynn's eyes went to the knife tucked next to his stack of books, a wry smile flickering across his lips. Then he looked back at Lance and shook his head. "See, if I let him do that—or rather, if you let him do that—I'd have to punch you, too."

Lance laughed. "Yeah, and I'd let you."

"Let's hope it never comes to that, I might break something on… well, one of us."

"Yeah, no. We're both too pretty to break." At that, Flynn dropped back onto his pillow again, because his 'normal shade of pale' had gone more than a little red. Not that it actually escaped Lance's notice, though he misread it entirely. "You alright? Got a temperature?"

"…Yeah, I might." Yes. That's definitely it.

"I'll tell Jace to put some ice on your head."

"Must you? If it were dangerous one of those," he pointed at the monitors, "stupid things would be yelling at me. They do that a lot. And yelling back at them is no more useful than it is with engines."

The pilot couldn't help laughing at that. He'd dearly love to be in the room for Flynn trying to argue the monitors into submission. "I just wanted to tell him how to do his job." Wink. "Might be fun."

"Oh, alright. If you do that just make sure it's within earshot." He paused a moment; there were footsteps echoing lightly out in the corridor. "Speaking of, here he comes. You'd better get out of here. And don't you even think about coming back once he's off the ship, don't you dare. As a superior officer I would be obligated to give you a very disapproving look for at least a second or two."

Snorting, Lance took another glance at the clock. "You won't see me until… tomorrow. Solemn vow."

Following his gaze, Flynn barely bit back a laugh. The Bolt's clocks were still set on Garrison time; there was no point whatsoever in trying to sync them with local times as they traveled. On this part of Gliskor, it was early afternoon… but back at the Garrison, it was very nearly midnight. "I believe you. Absolutely."

Reinforcing the point, their medic arrived bearing a nutrient shake and his usual scowl. "Midnight snack, Tails. Lance, it's been eleven minutes."

"The horror! How's your ass?" Actually, thinking about it, he didn't remember seeing the doc in the pile… then again, it had been a pile.

Jace had not been in the pile, and snorted. "That's no fucking way to talk about my patient." He'd called Flynn an ass at least once an hour since he'd been quarantined, but that wasn't the point.

"No, he's smartass, you're an ass." Smirk. "Are you one of the ones who landed on his face, then? Not that there's much difference…"

"Dude, you think I was going out there with giant donut dumbass? Gotta try harder than that."

"Aww fuck." Lance sulked. "I'll get you though, somehow." It usually wasn't that difficult; this was just a minor setback.

Flynn snickered. "I'm betting on flyboy."

"Of fucking course you are." Jace shoved Lance with his free hand. "You're cutting into your next visit."

"Alright, alright. See you tomorrow, Flynn." With a wink, Lance turned to go.

The engineer winked back. "See you then."

That had been, well… not fucking subtle in the least. Jace rolled his eyes as he passed the shake through the containment field. "Okay, I'm gonna go restock my gear. When Lance comes in tomorrow, you make fucking sure he doesn't get you too worked up, unless you want to be in there for an extra week."

Flynn blinked, flailing for a response to that, not coming up with anything terribly useful. "…Okay." So much for sneaking around… shrugging, he grumpily sipped his shake. He definitely did not want an extra week of this nonsense.

*****

Jace held what he considered a healthy respect for the Glis, and not healthy in a metaphorical sense. He'd worked with several Glis xenomedics in training, and several more on Athales before things had gone bad. What he'd learned was that no matter how cute and fuzzy they looked, no matter how polite and noble they talked, the damn things had a vicious streak that could put any human to shame. One of them had spoken with pride about their Elders once glassing their own homeworld to deny it to looters. Another he'd personally seen rip a pirate's throat open with her teeth while simultaneously strangling another with her tail… after which she'd calmly trotted off with the soldier she'd been retrieving as if nothing had happened.

Basically, if there was anywhere in the galaxy Jace would prefer not to cause trouble, Gliskor was the place. So of course he'd somehow wound up chaperoning the two crewmates most likely to get them in trouble.

Pidge had two missions to attend to. One was to pick up a new vacuum suit for Flynn; his old one had not been salvageable. The other was a personal matter requiring a brief visit to the local subspace relay station. It definitely didn't involve gaining unauthorized access to classified intelligence information.

Daniel was just bored, and wanted off the ship without going to a library. That was dangerous as fuck, but Jace figured letting him run off unattended would be worse.

The kids were standing together in very awkward silence on one of the boarding ramps when he got there; he snorted. "Porra, you two look like you're posing for a prison photo. Let's move it."

What was that even supposed to mean? Daniel shook his head, following him down the ramp. "You got it, Doc. What are you two going to get again?"

"Restocking the medications. Especially for the dumbass who got himself irradiated."

That got him a glare from the ninja. "We did everything we could to avoid that, doctor."

"Dude, that's nice, but now I'm the one stuck babysitting him. You could at least let me bitch."

That was probably fair; Pidge shrugged. He was trailing a little behind the other two, which was tricky, given that the gravity was slowing them down more than him. It may have been to avoid the notice of as many Glis as possible… the spaceport was crowded with plenty more than just Glis, he noted as they headed to the commissary quarter. Quite a lot of the crowd was heading in the opposite direction, nearly all wearing either navy or chartreuse, some with painted faces or carrying large collections of streamers. He absently wondered what all that was about.

Daniel debated poking the ninja, but decided he liked his fingers attached and settled for a questioning look. "What about you?"

"Need a vacuum suit." He didn't elaborate, it would just set Jace off again.

The gunner didn't ask, either, snerking a little. "All very exciting stuff, I see."

"We've had enough excitement lately," Jace countered.

"Never enough excitement."

Eyeing the two of them, Pidge caught a look from a passing Glis. It twitched its whiskers at him in a very impolite manner. "Incorrect," he muttered under his breath.

"You're incorrect," Daniel mimicked just as quietly, in his brattiest tone.

"I think the topic is subjective." Pidge had heard him just fine. "But you're still wrong."

Jace snickered; Daniel eyed him in confusion. "If it's subjective how can anyone be wrong?" He'd barely even finished asking before he deeply regretted it. Maybe the ninja would decide it wasn't worth answering…

No such luck. "Because objectively, if any one person feels they can have too much excitement, then too much excitement exists at some time. Which makes you wrong."

"But I don't feel like there can be too much excitement." He might regret starting this discussion, but if they were having the debate he intended to win it. "How does what anyone else thinks weigh in on what I believe?"

"You didn't say you believe there can't be too much excitement. You said there's never enough excitement."

"Which is a belief I hold." Daniel couldn't decide whether or not he preferred this to arguing with Cam.

Pidge shrugged. "But the existence of people who feel otherwise defies the categorical nature of your belief—"

"—Other people feeling otherwise doesn't change what I believe! It just means we feel differently, doesn't mean anyone's incorrect."

"But people feeling differently makes your rule incorrect for them. And a rule that isn't always correct isn't a rule, by definition." He frowned slightly. "Also you can't prove a negative, so—"

"—Okay look, the medic is getting a headache. Again." Jace glowered at both of them; he wasn't even sure whose side of the argument he was on, but he was ready for it to be over. "Ninjerk, can you please just shut up and go back to flinching at mice the way Brennan here flinches at birds?"

"Hey!" Daniel did not appreciate his intervention. "I don't flinch, I avoid."

"I heard you ran into one."

"Yeah, I remember." He shuddered. It hadn't been for lack of trying to avoid them. "I blame you for that, by the way. If you'd just let Keith believe I was allergic to birds, none of that would have happened."

Jace considered and discarded a lecture on the importance of the commander having an accurate picture of his crew's medical status. The kid would not be impressed. He opted instead for, "And where would the fun in that be?"

"…Whatever."

A large cluster of chartreuse-wearing Quasnot nearly ran over them at that point, and they took a few moments to actually pay attention to what they were doing. A sign indicating the commissary quarter finally caught their attention. "I think we're where we need to be," Pidge said absently as they entered. One of the first buildings was a pretty standard-looking medical supply post.

Daniel looked at the building and snorted. "Yay."

"You wanted to come, caralho." Jace glared at him. "Come on, you can help me pick out needles."

The kid feigned excitement. "Oh Jace, I thought you'd never ask." That got him a snort and a mostly playful punch to the arm. Mostly.

Entering the building, they found a single Glis on duty at the front desk. "Alikria-ka, honored Earthlings… friend Shinori." The 'friend' might have come out a little bit aggressively. "What do you seek?"

Muttering something equally passive-aggressive in Baltan, Pidge dropped one hand to the empty sheath at his side. With the other he handed over a data chip containing Flynn's suit specs. The Glis accepted it with a huffy whistle, turning away to put it through a reader.

In Daniel's opinion, this was as interesting as the ninja had ever been. "What'd you do to piss off whiskers?" he whispered.

Pidge knew he shouldn't snicker at whiskers; it was petty and unbecoming. It was also funny, so he snickered anyway. "My people failed to have our civilization collapse twenty thousand years ago like theirs did."

"Damn." Daniel was actually very proud of himself for making the ninja laugh, but suspected showing it would only ruin the achievement. "That's one hell of a grudge."

As the Glis finished up with the chip and turned back to them, Jace stepped closer to the counter and leaned over it slightly. He was quite certain whiskers here didn't need to hear what the kids were discussing. "Need some type 4, 5, and 8 radgen equipment, a basic medkit restock, and some high-gauge needles."

The Glis, who was pointedly ignoring the Shinori and thus had indeed not heard any of it, nodded much more politely to the medic and vanished into a back room.

Pidge watched it go, then looked back at Daniel. "Grudges are one of their specialties." And multi-millennia misunderstandings were possibly one of Balto's, but there was no need to bring that into it. "Impressive in all the wrong ways, kir sa tye?"

Impressive, yes. In all the wrong ways, maybe… Daniel quirked his head. "What does… 'keer sa tie' mean, anyway?" He had definitely butchered those vowels like they were one of Jace's sandwiches, but it would do.

Being asked about Baltan sentence modifiers was not what Pidge had expected from this trip, and he blinked. "…It's… a request for confirmation, sort of? It doesn't translate very well." Which was precisely why he still used it… he added more quietly, "English lacks so many useful words."

Nodding, Daniel considered the last comment and shrugged. "You would know better than me. I only speak one language." Or two, depending on how one classified the various dialects of English, but whatever. "Plus a few Korean curses."

"Everyone on the ship seems to swear in multiple languages, I've noticed. It seems useful."

Were they actually discussing the merits of bilingual profanity? That was not what Daniel had expected from this trip. But now that he thought about it, the ninja wasn't wrong… the only people he couldn't remember hearing curse in another language were the people who didn't really curse to begin with. Particularly… he grinned slightly. "It is useful. Especially with Sven, he says he knows I'm cursing but he can't ever prove it."

Pidge eyed him. "But he isn't wrong, kir sa tye?"

"No, he's not wrong…" He trailed off as the Glis returned, carrying a lot more boxes than it looked like it should be able to handle. "…but if he can't or won't prove it, that's a win for me," he concluded.

Several of the boxes went to Jace, as well as a spread of clear envelopes full of needles for him to look over. Two larger boxes were for Pidge—a vacuum suit and its attendant life support system. That got him a look that was either concerned or just scornful. "Friend Shinori, that suit will fit you not."

The 'friend' had definitely been aggressive that time.

"It's not for me." Pidge rolled his eyes and handed over a credit chip. "Thank you very much." Despite using the proper words, nobody could have mistaken his tone for polite either.

Daniel side-eyed the Glis. It was not some rodent store clerk's job to rag on the ninja; the 686 had that covered just fine. "I didn't realize mice had such attitudes." He'd known perfectly well Pidge had an attitude, of course.

Maybe it had come out a little louder than he'd intended. The Glis looked at him, its whiskers twitching slightly. Jace looked at him too, thoroughly unamused… then he picked out a few packs of needles and dropped a credit chip on the counter. "Aaaand thanks! We've gotta go." Grabbing the boxes and both kids—the low gravity had its benefits—he dragged them out of the building and dumped them on the curb. "Honestly, and the Viking thinks I'm gonna cause a fucking interstellar incident."

Rubbing his wrist, Daniel gave him a look that was somewhere between a scowl and a pout. "Why are you always dragging me places?"

"Because the other option is letting you get in some kind of shit I'll probably have to patch up, and I don't need that extra fucking stress in my life." He started packing the medical gear into the bag he'd brought for just that purpose, and frowned. "I might also feel an inexplicable kinship with other assholes, but I wouldn't count on that too much."

Looking between the two of them, Pidge kept his opinions to himself; it all seemed pretty accurate. Daniel just stared silently at the medic, dumbfounded. He was never too sure how to feel about Jace being nice to him.

The thought of making Pidge carry his own boxes came and went quickly. At this rate he might club some Glis over the head with one. So he finished packing up and straightened, exhaling slowly. "So, anywhere else we need to hit?"

"Just the subspace relay, eventually."

"Not me, but I'm totally not ready to go back to the ship."

Snort. "Come up with a better idea, then, unless we're going to go watch the ninja send mail." Pidge's immediate scowl made his opinion on that clear enough.

Daniel frowned, looking around the spaceport. He didn't know what kind of entertainment actually existed around here, but… a Glis with navy blue dye streaking its fur trotted past them, and he blinked. It was definitely wearing two bright blue foam fingers on its tail.

As he stared after it, a poster on a nearby kiosk caught his eye. Walking over to check it out, he found what was up with the crowds they'd been seeing. The poster showed a line of hulking, angry-looking humans crouched across from a line of equally grim-looking Glis. One of the Glis had a ball wrapped up in its tail.

ANNUAL EXHIBITION: NI-KILA ATHLETICS BUREAU VS. PACIFICA SHARKS

His eyes lit up slightly as he realized what he was looking at. "Guys, check this out! A rat football game with low gravity, it sounds awesome! Let's go check it out."

"Football? Seriously? Fucking…" Jace stopped as he came in sight of the poster, his derisive look slowly shifting into a grin. The implications were fantastic. "…Fucking yes, man."

Pidge shrugged. He wasn't in any hurry to get where he was going; in fact he'd probably prefer the crowds to have thinned out a bit. Football didn't interest him much, but the premise of this seemed amusing. "Sure. Will someone explain to me why it's called football when the players hardly use their feet?"

Both of the others snickered at that. "No one really knows," Daniel offered. "It's a weird cultural thing."

"Oh." That made sense. Well, it didn't make sense, but Pidge never questioned 'weird' when it was applied to anything related to humans. Shrugging again, he fell in behind the other two and started following the crowd.

*****

The Glis were significant biological outliers within the Alliance, being one of only half a dozen non-humanoid and only two non-bipedal sapients. Iskor-i Chakchira translated roughly to Ambassador City: it had been built as the public capital of Gliskor, to allow their allies to interact easily… well, relatively easily. The streets were filled with carts bearing aliens about, and most buildings were a mix of other races' architectural styles. It was a fascinating place, if difficult to focus on just now.

The building the library team was headed for was not built in one of those borrowed styles. Nim brought the cart to a surprisingly gentle halt before a large, low structure decorated with shimmery cloth banners. There were a couple of carts in front of them at what appeared to be some kind of passenger unloading dock. They watched a pair of Kejans stumbling from the front cart and exchanged glances. At least they weren't alone.

"Great Archives are opened freely, but built not entirely for Earthlings, I fear. Those in the reception area will aid you."

Keith nodded, slowly unhooking his white-knuckled fingers from the handhold and taking a steadying breath. "Yes. Thank you."

"Most welcome, honored Earthlings." After a rather shaky Akese left the cart in front of them, Nim pulled up to the entry ramp. "Fortune with you in your search."

"Fortune, uh… in your day?" Vince offered awkwardly, drawing a small smile from Sven and an amused whisker-twitch from Nim. Flushing slightly, he followed Keith to the door.

Not that Keith was doing a lot better; he gave the door a short tug and it flew open sharply. "Uh… we need to be careful," he said sheepishly.

"Eep, yes."

"Yes sir."

The door brought them into a narrow corridor, with railings at several different heights on each side. "This gravity is weird," Vince commented, holding the railings tight and managing a decent pace. "I feel bouncy."

Sven nodded. "It's definitely an odd sensation."

"Walking beats that cart though."

"Agreed."

The corridor opened into a large, octagonal lobby draped in more colorful banners. Though the ceiling was two human stories high, several of the walls were lined with four rows of Glis-sized doors interspersed with ladders. There were also a few larger doors and two reception desks. One of them was occupied by the Akese they'd followed in. The other was open; a bronze-furred Glis was sitting on it, watching them.

This is pretty cool. Vince was trying to look everywhere at once. The general idea had become pretty routine now—find a library, look for Altea—but the different forms of libraries were fascinating.

"Alright." Keith looked around too, then headed for the desk. "Let's get started."

The Glis dipped its head as they approached. "Alikria-ka, honored Earthlings. I am Sister Kria. Is it knowledge you seek here?"

Keith blinked. Why else would we be here? Of course he wasn't going to say that out loud. It had been a solemn question… was there some kind of ritual response he was supposed to make?

While he was debating it, Sven stepped in. "Yes, do you know of anything in your archives that speak of a planet called Altea?"

Okay, that works.

"Altea…" Kria trailed off, not moving or speaking. Vince was briefly worried about that, but as he shifted he could see that she wasn't completely still. There was a console behind her, and she was typing rapidly with her tail. It was almost hypnotizing to watch. "Have you any information already to narrow the search, or do you seek all answers?"

"All answers, please," Sven said quickly. Really any answers would be nice.

"All answers might be asking a lot," Keith muttered half to himself. "But every bit could help."

Kria typed a bit more, her whiskers starting to twitch in annoyance. At one point she reached up and adjusted what had looked like a piece of jewelry clipped to one wide ear; when she moved it became evident it was some kind of earpiece attached to the console. Finally she stopped typing. "The New Archive is empty." Removing the earpiece, she yelled something over her shoulder in a shrill, whistley language, then hopped off the desk. "If it pleases you to accompany me, we shall seek your Altea within deeper knowledge."

It had taken Vince a few moments to realize she'd stopped typing with her tail, and he was a little disappointed. He blinked, shaking it off just in time to see a new Glis arriving from one of the small doors, taking Kria's place at the desk. Nodding to it—it seemed like the right thing to do—he turned and followed the others.

Following Kria through one of the human-sized doors took them to a gently sloping corridor. This one had railings too, as well as a fluffy carpet running down the middle. For a minute they walked in silence. Then she looked back at them. "Have you familiarity with our people's history, honored Earthlings?"

All three considered that briefly. Everyone knew the basics, that was Alliance History 101. The ancient and proud Glis Empire had collapsed under its own weight, leaving an insular and hostile Glis Remnant behind. They had scraped by until the Fourth Kingdom attacked. Glis civilization had collapsed a second time; the survivors had sworn all that was left to punishing the Drules. The so-called Glirian Crusade had been one of the paths that converged to form the modern Alliance.

Beyond that? Well, they hadn't even been expecting a different subspecies here, so…

"Um… not much but the basics, honored Glis."

"I'm sorry to say I don't know many details either."

Kria didn't seem bothered. "Ancient tales are rarely spoken, yet always in our blood. The basics are enough. Our people are of two eras. The New Archive holds all knowledge since our rebirth, since the honored Alliance was forged by the same furnace that once consumed us. Where we go now…" She turned, leading them through a door that had been all but invisible until she opened it. "The Forgotten Archive. Vast knowledge was gathered by our Elders, remaining now only in fragments. Answers there may be here, but perhaps more pieces of a puzzle than a continuous tale."

Sven and Vince exchanged glances. More puzzle pieces sounded pretty much like the Altea status quo. But maybe they'd finally have enough pieces to put something together. Eventually.

Keith's thoughts were tracking the same way, but he wasn't about to say that either. "Any information is better than none."

They entered a room dominated by a bulky machine, with several cushioned benches arrayed around it. A similar console and earpiece were sitting on a small table. "Simplest if I search. Our equipment, you may see, is unwieldy for others. I hope you will take it not as an insult."

"Of course not. It's an honor to have assistance." Though Keith said that, and meant it, he did find it a little off-putting to see her sitting and facing them while she worked. Vince, on the other hand, was immediately back to being entranced with the tail typing.

After a minute Kria tilted her head. "Have you searched long for the Altea? Earthlings only rarely seek the long-forgotten here. It is gratifying."

"Not all that long, ourselves." That got him a side-eye from Sven, who knew objectively it hadn't been all that long that they'd been searching… but it sure felt like it had been. "We're really looking for a fugitive who is searching for the planet."

"A fugitive? You are police, then?"

"In a way. We're bounty hunters." As Keith said it, Vince tensed up and set his jaw in an attempt to look like a bounty hunter. He mostly succeeded in looking mildly constipated, and it was all Sven could do not to laugh.

Mercifully, Kria either didn't notice or didn't recognize human body language that well. "Ri-alika. Much respect held by our people for hunters. A calling of power and justice." She dipped her head again, this time a bit lower; she was still typing. "But you have found… nothing?"

"We've found puzzle pieces that don't seem to fit together," Sven offered.

"Yes. And it seems that only some believe Altea is real. Others consider it a myth."

The Glis nodded slowly. "I can find no record of an Altea." She flicked her tail across her whiskers in what seemed to be a thoughtful gesture. "To be sure, it may have taken that name after our Elders surveyed the stars. Have you consulted the Lygoth? They often share not the whispers of new stars they find, until they feel their information is sufficient."

Keith blinked. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; maybe it was a wonder something like this hadn't happened sooner. "We did consult them. They believe it is only a myth, but we've found other evidence since."

"I see." She considered that for a minute. "Puzzle pieces, you say you have. Any that might have… other pieces besides, that we might seek and find?"

"We know that Altea participated in the War of the Infested," Sven offered tentatively. He didn't expect much out of that. But to his surprise their guide perked up.

"I have heard of that war! Let me see."

As she picked up her typing again, Keith gave Sven a small grin. He was glad someone remembered that point; he'd been in a fog of painkillers for that particular discovery. Vince was transfixed again, though with enough wits about him to hope this time they might get some answers…

"Kira-na. I had hoped for more, but there is something." Kria reached up to adjust her earpiece, and immediately had everyone's full attention. "The War of the Infested. Occurred some fifty-eight Earthling centuries ago, during the time of the Unified Remnant. Vast in scope, but reached not the stars where our Elders held sway. Rumors were many, but facts are known. A fearsome extraplanar parasite arrived with Drule scouts, and possessed and consumed the Union of Dhesria. Many worlds banded together to silence the threat."

Vince's eyes widened. An extraplanar parasite! They had heard that on Takrekul too, but it sounded a lot scarier when the parasite was taking over a whole interstellar faction. Or at least, he assumed that was what the Union of Dhesria had been; he'd never heard of any such thing.

"We have not a list of those others. Our Elders cared only for anger and isolation. But likely enough your Altea is in the spinward-coreward quadrant of the Interior Expanse. The Dhesria were located as such."

A quarter of the Interior Expanse… Sven frowned thoughtfully. That was an enormous stretch of space, but it also enormously narrowed down what they'd had to go on before. Nothing was certain, obviously. But it was the first truly concrete hint of a location they'd been given. It was something.

It was something!

Kria didn't seem inclined to give up quite yet. Maybe she was thinking about how large that area was, too. "That is what we have. And the Lygoth knew it not?" Again she snapped her whiskers lightly with her tail. "Have you other leads to follow?"

That was a question Keith probably wouldn't have answered, at least not very quickly, were they on nearly any other planet. But this was an Alliance world, and the Glis were one of the Alliance's most respected races. Of all places, he was pretty sure they could speak freely here. "We'd run out of ideas, honestly. We've found evidence but none that leads us anywhere else—the Terinians claimed to have a relic from the Alteans, we found a temple on Sorthal we believe was dedicated to them…"

Neither of those names seemed to strike any kind of chord with their guide, but the overall point was clear enough. "You have searched many stars, then. What others?"

"Kaliega, obviously—that's where we started." Sven glanced at the other two, just daring them to say anything about how that visit had gone for him. It did draw a bit of a snicker from Vince, but he bit it down quickly. "Also Alcieux, Takrekul, even a couple of black market contacts on Khoru and Dradin." Fortunately Lance wasn't here to yell about how that had gone for them either.

Kria gave an excited sort of whistle-bark. "Those are all?"

It felt like more, really. Keith nodded slowly. "We've been just about everywhere."

"Yes, many stars, with mysteries enough to be found there. But if not yours, then there is aid I can provide to you. You must go to Onygrine!" She looked around at their blank looks and clarified. "Archive world of the Vex-Cha, but open to all with coin to pay." Pausing again, she wiggled her whiskers slightly. "That is, if I correctly understand, a metaphor."

"…A metaphor for what, exactly?" Keith asked, not exactly nervously, though not exactly confidently either. The Vex-Cha Confederacy was a mercantile empire located almost directly across the Interior Expanse from Earth. Relations between them and the Alliance were cordial enough—owing largely to the Alliance's position as a de facto bulwark between them and the Drules—but they could be… unpredictable.

Though that didn't turn out to be why Kria was using metaphors at all. "I know not what 'coin' is for certain. An obsolete form of Earthling money, I think?"

The regal-alien-mouse-librarian not knowing what a coin was struck Vince as oddly endearing, and he grinned. "Just any form of payment, these days, usually." Immediately he felt silly. State the obvious much? But the Glis nodded in appreciation so he decided to take that as a win.

"A-chila. Vex-Cha rarely do favors freely. But you are bounty hunters, are you not?" She looked them over again. "Their leaders make no secret of their desires, and they honor the needs of those who hunt for them. If you could deliver them a bounty, certain enough they would gift you access in repayment."

An actual bounty! Vince's eyes somehow went still wider. He looked over at Sven, trying to gauge his reaction. For his part, Sven was looking at Keith. Taking on an actual bounty sounded like precisely the kind of thing they would do.

He didn't even have to think about it for long. "Where would we find this bounty information? Is there a particular planet to visit?"

Kria twitched her whiskers, then removed the earpiece. "Any envoy of the Vex-Cha would hold such. Even here in Iskor-i Chakchira there is one to be found."

Nodding, Keith typed a quick message into his datapad, dispatching Cam and Hunk to find this envoy. Their comms officer had to know more about the Vex-Cha than most of the crew. "I believe we'll be able to do that, then. Thank you."

The Glis dipped her head. "What you can learn here may be exhausted, I fear. May fortune find your answers among the Vex-Cha. Come, I will lead you back." She still seemed to be deep in thought as she led them back along the fluffy-carpeted corridors.

Not that she was the only one; Vince was both excited and mildly terrified, as usual. Am I actually a bounty hunter now? He nearly tripped a couple of times in his distraction, but Sven caught him.

Just before they reached the lobby, Kria stopped, giving that odd whistle-bark again. "Honored Earthlings… there may be one more possibility."

Keith paused too, looking at her. "What might that be?"

"If it pleases you to wait, I will be swift." She motioned them into the lobby, then darted up a ladder and disappeared through one of the small doors.

The three exchanged confused looks, then hopeful shrugs. "Wow, she's fast."

"That she is… and dedicated."

"Helpful librarians is a nice change back from snakes and mafia."

After only a couple of minutes, Kria returned, sitting up on her hind legs and dropping something from her tail into one forepaw. She offered it to Keith; a small data chip glittered in the lobby's soft light.

Vince was starting to feel like he might just have some tail envy. They seemed so useful.

"Thank you." Keith accepted the chip curiously. "Can you tell us what this is?"

"Coordinates to a faraway world. The slimmest of threads." She shook her head. "We know not this planet—it was not important. Lifeless water and sand, without even a name. But after the rebirth, our distant scans found it cloaked in stardust and light."

Sven frowned. "A nebula?" A mini-nebula surrounding a planet, no less? Nebulae didn't work like that… possibly unless a supernova had been involved. Which wouldn't have been good for anyone.

"So it has seemed. Unlikely it may be to have bearing on your search… yet you seek an unknown world, and mysteries call to mysteries."

Frowning slightly, Keith looked at the other two again. The galaxy was full of unexplained phenomena; he understood why she sounded so doubtful. But he also understood why she'd offered it, and they were still in no position to pass up any lead. "Thank you. If all else fails, it's worth looking into."

Kria nodded. "You have all I can give you, honored Earthlings. Farewell and fortune." Dropping back to all fours, she dipped her head low.

Keith bowed in return, while Sven nodded. "Thank you. Farewell and fortune."

"Farewell and fortune," Vince echoed. Taking one last look around the lobby, they departed the Archives.

*****

Pick out a bounty, Keith had said. What could go wrong?

Getting there. That could go wrong.

Hunk had more or less adjusted to Gliskor's gravity while he'd been arranging getting the Bolt refueled. But when it came to trying to navigate beyond the spaceport, his confidence in that adjustment was significantly less. And then there was Cam; even knowing what to expect, he'd taken two steps down the boarding ramp, overcompensated, and ended up flat on his face.

People falling down their boarding ramps was apparently the best way to get a Glis guide's attention. One Brother Ta-kir had arrived to help, and they climbed gratefully into his cart.

Cam found the restraints and strapped in, a little nervously. "Safety first, right?"

"Totally. Hit a bump in this thing, we might go flyin' to next Tuesday." Hunk buckled in too, then looked at Ta-kir. "So, uh… you happen to know where we can find some Vex-Cha classified ads?"

The Glis laughed, a kind of chittering bark. "Their embassy is what you seek, honored Earthlings. Hold tight!" With that, the cart shot off into the streets.

"Dude drives like crazy," Hunk whispered to a wide-eyed Cam as the cart bounced wildly. "I like it!" All that got him was a lot of muttering in Russian that he really didn't need to hear translated; the tone said it all. He just grinned wider in response. "Vroom vroom!"

Cam did his best to concentrate on the mission instead of the cart's bouncing. A bounty for the Vex-Cha… it should be interesting, that was for sure.

Vex-Cha was a collective term, comprising several cousin races that had allied together for peace and profit. The two original members of the coalition were the Cha-Akor and the Vexakila, and they still dominated its politics. Hence the name. Cam had never met one of either, or any other Vex-Cha race, but he'd studied their language and protocol basics at the Academy.

Hunk wasn't too sure why he'd been sent on this job, unless the boss was worried about things getting touchy. Which didn't seem likely, but the way things usually went with them, probably wasn't unlikely either.

In any case, they made good time to the Vex-Cha embassy: a large, domed building with six intricately-carved buttresses surrounding it. As the cart halted, Cam had a brief sensation of whiplash, though it faded quickly. The vertigo when he stood up didn't fade so fast; he nearly fell over.

Hunk actually did fall over as he disembarked, but at least it didn't hurt all that much. He jumped up and dusted himself off, then grinned at Ta-kir. "Thanks, bro!"

"Yes, thank you, sir." Feeling a bit green around the gills was no reason to be impolite. Cam was trying to be more careful about that sort of thing.

"Most welcome, honored Earthlings! Fortune to you in finding what you seek!" Bowing his head, the Glis sped off.

"They sure are nice mice," Hunk commented, still grinning slightly.

Cam paled. "We're not supposed to call them that!"

"…I mean, we had one in my old engineering corps whose callsign was Squeaky, she thought it was funny." Glis didn't even squeak. He looked up at the Vex-Cha building; the entire front staircase appeared to be a fancy escalator. They should probably get to work. "But yeah, we're on their planet, no mice. Also no boxes, yeah?"

"And no flirting. I don't want to get shot again." The big engineer gave him a look at that, and he winced, remembering slightly too late that people weren't supposed to know that part. "…And what is the big deal with boxes, anyway? Or is it just another fable like the murder vines?"

Hunk snorted. "Little dude, you didn't like me callin' the Glis mice, you'd be horrified by the box." The comms officer gave him a skeptical look; he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "There was a cat person involved. He fitted, he sitted… with some help." Shrug. "Anyway, that's why you're here, to make sure I don't say anything dumb. Let's do this!" He headed for the escalator.

It took Cam a moment to follow. "You put a cat person in a box?!" Stepping up next to Hunk he frowned, thinking on that. "Well, cats can be evil."

"Now who ain't diplomatic enough?"

"We're on an Explorer Team!" Grin. "Everything's fair game except Drule vodka."

"Dude, I wanna try some of that stuff now, no lie." Reaching the top of the escalator, he pushed the door open and stepped inside… and suddenly there was gravity. A lot of gravity. "Dude!"

"Whoa… who turned the planet on?" Cam struggled to stand up straight. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if they'd been leaving Earth gravity and not Gliskor gravity, but yikes.

Though they hadn't really gotten to looking around yet, they had both at least noticed the embassy was a single large, circular room. A clicking sound came from a desk in the center. Then a strange voice; it sounded like a mix of buzzes and clicks that had somehow been shaped into recognizable Common. "If the gravity is not to your liking, the fifth chamber has it disabled."

Both of them startled a little, and startled again when they looked to the voice. Hunk knew next to nothing about the Vex-Cha; he'd seen pictures once or twice. Cam had also only seen pictures, and pictures did not do them justice.

It was a Vexakila behind the desk. An enormous insectoid creature, easily eight feet tall, with two compound eyes the size of a human head. Its narrow face and slim limbs were covered in chitinous fuzz, as were its stubby antennae. It was brightly colored, mostly green and pink. All of that, they knew from pictures. But what they had not been expecting was for its carapace, its fuzz, and even its diaphanous wings to be brilliantly iridescent, rippling and shimmering with every slight shift in the light.

Hunk could not remember any science fiction where the creepy bug aliens were so pretty.

One of those gemlike wings was currently pointing off to its right. The embassy chamber was divided into six sections; presumably it was indicating the fifth. Cam blushed slightly, forcing himself to stop staring and answer. "Apologies. We just weren't expecting it."

The Vexakila clicked its mandibles together; it may have been laughing. "Many before you have reacted in precisely the same manner. I am Valeesh, the Docent of this embassy. What brings Earthlings here?"

Still a little flustered, Cam approached the desk. "We're, uh… we're looking for some ads?"

Valeesh clicked again. "Ads? I do not comprehend."

Not surprising, considering how poorly he'd put that. Cam grimaced, then decided to try his hand at something that took more focus. Maybe it would get his wits about him better… he flicked his tongue against his teeth, making a series of clicks. Ak-Kila, the language of the Vex-Cha, was rather complicated; his wasn't the greatest, but he was pretty certain he'd gotten across that they were looking for bounties.

Not only had he gotten it across, Valeesh's return clicks were positively delighted. Apparently he rarely encountered humans who could speak even slightly comprehensible Ak-Kila. He directed them to the embassy's second section, where several large tables were set up; for Hunk's benefit he also pointed with a wing.

After a few more clicks, Cam nodded, then switched back to Common. "Thank you, Valeesh."

He clicked back. "The English can be found at the second table. Good hunting."

Grinning, Cam headed for the table, pulling Hunk along behind him. If he hadn't been so excited about successfully talking with a Vex-Cha, he'd have noticed there was no way he was pulling Hunk anywhere without Hunk's cooperation. Really, Hunk was just as happy for any sliver of assistance; he dropped gratefully into a chair and made a face. The gravity in here was still throwing him.

His grimace faded as he looked over the table. There were all sorts of resources spread before them: datapads and other curiously styled tablets, screens set into the table, and… "Are those newspapers?" With a huge grin of his own, he grabbed a stack of papers, which turned out to not be paper at all. They seemed to be some kind of incredibly smooth, silky fabric.

Close enough. He started flipping through the papers while Cam picked up a datapad. After a few moments he activated one of the table screens as well, eyes flicking back and forth between the devices. The Vex-Cha really did have a lot of contracts to offer.

"Something simple," he murmured half to himself as he scrolled. "Reasonably quick, no boxes, no flirting…"

"No assassination either, yeah?" Hunk frowned slightly. "Bossman won't like assassinations."

"We do have a ninja," he countered distractedly. That got him a look. "…I mean, yeah, probably want to steer clear of those."

"Even if we wanted to, don't think we could get away with not tellin' the boss what bounty we took."

"Yeah, we can't do that. Commander Kogane would skin us alive." He snorted. "No assassinations."

They were quiet for a few more minutes, scanning through more pages. There were a lot of assassinations. It didn't seem like the Vex-Cha usually cared to take their enemies alive. Picking up another stack of papers, Hunk found something new, though not necessarily any more useful. "Here's a couple cargo escorts… maybe coulda pulled that off in our old ship."

"Yeah, the Bolt isn't all that quick. Too bad, it would be nice and simple."

"Maybe." Like anything they did was nice and simple. "Here's somethin' promising? Security job planetside… no, wait, indefinite duration, that won't work."

It wouldn't work, but it was closer to what they needed than escorts and assassinations. "Keep an eye out for some more definite durations, that has potential."

"Totally."

Another few minutes, and Cam suddenly found himself staring at something very promising. "Hey, look at this one, it sounds easy enough. Go to Selech, pick up some files from a lab, scan them and deliver the scans to a handler. Then take the files to the Vex-Cha on Onygrine. Kind of like a delivery service."

"Yeah? Onygrine's where we're supposed to be goin' anyway." Hunk leaned over his shoulder. "Huh. That does look pretty solid."

Grin. "I think we have a winner. Lance can be an official delivery driver."

"He'll love that." Laughing, Hunk checked the reference number for the contract. The fine print said to find its associated paper and take it with them. He found the page and rolled it up with a flourish. "And no boxes or flirting!"

"And nothing that will make the Commander skin us alive."

"Always a plus." Grin. "So, whatcha think… get back to the ship before we manage to get in trouble?"

"Yeah, we should head back." Cam looked at the paper in the big guy's hand. "Maybe drop by the intel clearinghouse, see if we can pull a map or something?"

Hunk nodded. "Let's do it." He picked up the pace a bit—he was going to be so happy to get back into the crazy low gravity—but he did manage to wave to Valeesh as they reached the door. "Thanks for the help!"

At the same time, Cam clicked out thanks and have a good day. Or at least he was pretty certain that was what he'd said. It may have been thanks and don't fall in a river, but he supposed that was a nice thing to say also.

Whatever he'd said, Valeesh clicked a cheerful farewell in return, and they headed out. For once, they'd had a mission that had gone pretty well.

*****

Staggering from the ruins, weak and overwhelmed, Alfor nearly fell into the arms of the first knight to reach him. He could hear the tunnels collapsing behind him; he'd gotten out just in time.

"Your Majesty!"

"I was successful." He spoke quietly but with urgency, still not quite confident he might not pass out any moment. "We must find a way out of here. Tell me the situation." He could see glimpses—the storm, the burning wreckage, the weapons fire—but they were chaotic. Even in top form, it would have taken him awhile to get a handle on things.

Sondar, the leader of the original detachment he'd brought with him, approached and bowed his head. "Reinforcements have been pouring in for both sides. We believe the Drules know you are here, or they wouldn't be committing such forces. Casualties are high."

The king nodded slowly. "What paths can we use to escape?" Fighting their way through wasn't an option. Even if they could be confident of victory—which they couldn't—every soldier's life was precious. They couldn't afford to lose any more than necessary; really they couldn't even afford to lose the necessary.

"There are two paths that we don't believe the sinycka have covered. One goes up onto a terrace just below the gryphon lairs. It's easier to move people through, but more exposed. The other is an old dried-up riverbed that isn't likely to be dry at this moment." He looked up at the stormclouds. "It will be much slower, but provides better cover."

Alfor considered the options. Usually he'd have favored the faster escape. The more quickly they could detach, the better, and disappearing into the mountains could come next. But there were things within that particular mountain that he didn't dare risk the Drules stumbling across, and he was pretty certain he knew the path Sondar was talking about. It was too close… and very exposed. His original detachment, with their carefully chosen camouflage, might be able to traverse it relatively safely. The others much less so.

"The riverbed." He pulled the hood of his cloak up, covering his crown. Wearing it at all had been a calculated risk… but the image of the Arusian crown being abandoned, even for a moment, would have immediately cratered morale. Besides, he'd had no idea if it would help his cause with Li-ten. What he knew was it wouldn't help his cause now. "Rally our people, but we can't let the enemy realize where we're going."

"As you command, sire." Sondar turned, barking orders to the nearest combatants. The storm would work in their favor until they actually reached the river.

Alfor took a moment to adjust his cloak, leaning over a large rock and shivering. He wanted to take the pendant out and look again, but didn't dare. What he'd seen in the ruined temple still filled him with awe… so much that focus was difficult, especially in his weakened state. Every time thunder crashed through the valley, he thought he heard a growl or roar beneath it. The images kept playing through his mind…

The Arusian forces were starting to circle inward, taking a defensive formation without clearly appearing to do so. Those of the original detachment were on the outside edge, letting their camouflage shroud the movements of their comrades. If all went well, they could fall back and vanish before the enemy knew what had happened.

All was not going well. The echo of engines became audible throughout the valley. Realizing something was happening, unwilling to risk their prize slipping away, the Drules were trying to deploy their air cover through the storm.

"…Never mind subtlety." He looked up at the sky. It was raining hard enough to disrupt the wide-beam lasers of the Drule fighters, but if they got close enough that wouldn't matter. Not to mention spotting for the ground troops. "We have to get under cover before they reach us. Go!"

The ranks surged. Racing through the rain and the wreckage, the knights stormed the pass towards the riverbed. Alfor himself stumbled in his exhaustion, only to have two of his warriors grab his arms and nearly carry him forward. For a moment, it looked like they might make it…

Someone yelled something, a panicked cry barely audible through the rain. It sounded like someone calling his name, perhaps calling for help. Instinctively, Alfor stopped and turned to look for the voice, pulling free of the knights assisting him and causing his cloak to briefly fall away. For a moment he froze. He was too tired, too distracted, and his mind was left too sluggish. He knew he needed to recover his camouflage and run. He just couldn't seem to move.

Three things happened in rapid succession. The first was a massive bolt of lightning striking one Drule fighter and arcing through two more. Though the craft themselves were unharmed, their pilots were not; flash-blinded, the three fighters collided with a roar that drowned out the thunderclap. Fire began raining down on the valley, oily wreckage setting brush alight despite the rain.

Second, a Drule sniper on one of the slopes caught sight of Alfor's crown glinting in the firelight. Immediately, he dropped his sights over the king—making sure to go for the chest rather than the head. King Zarkon would want the head intact, especially with how long Arus had resisted. He squeezed off two shots, scorching plasmapoint rounds whistling through the rain as twin streaks of blue light. He had no time to see if the shots had landed true; a chunk of burning metal forced him to move.

Third, a new sound began to echo through the valley, indignant shrieks that pierced through the storm. Shadows were detaching from the mountain, gliding down from the caves with remarkable swiftness. It seemed the battle had disturbed the gryphons.

For a moment, the battlefield went still, the combatants on both sides staring into the sky in shock and confusion. The tide had just turned, it must have, but nobody seemed fully clear how.

It became clear when King Alfor crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide, but no longer seeing.

Chaos erupted.

Any remaining semblance of subtlety disintegrated. The Arusian ranks broke, some knights charging the Drules in a fury, others still trying to bear their king to safety. The enemy may have taken his life; they would not be permitted to take his body. The Drules responded by pushing forward themselves, ready to overwhelm this last stand, but the gryphons were falling on them with razor-sharp beaks and talons. Even the fighters were being harassed by the angered beasts. Clearly they were no match for steel and fire, but their swarming was impeding the already-obscured vision of the pilots.

Slinging the High King's body over his shoulders, Sondar tried to call the troops to order, but the situation was deteriorating too rapidly to effectively regroup. Most of those who tried to rally to him fell as they crossed the open parts of the valley. The few who remained, he looked at seriously and shook his head. "We deny our King to the Drules, at any cost. Cover the retreat. Diya Kopora!"

The other knights nodded. It could well be their death warrant, but they would do their duty. For Arus.

"For the King!"

*****

The collapse had been gradual. Parts of the tunnels had been cut off, forcing Miralna to retrace her path, only to find where she'd come from sealed by new debris. With every breath she'd expected the rocks to fall directly on her, and once she'd come across the cold hand of another scout who had met that fate. But giving up was out of the question. Giving up was death. She moved on.

After what felt like hours, she heard the first trickle of water. Rain was making its way into the ruins. And where rain was coming in, there might be a way out… following the sound, she came to a stream, and flashes of light began to penetrate the darkness. Pulling her sword out, she used the hilt to carefully help burrow through the rock, holding her breath with every inch.

Abruptly, she broke into the open air. But for a moment she was certain she'd gotten lost. The valley was empty except for small fires, bodies, and… feathers? What had happened here? What may have been the sound of skirmishes in the distance caught her attention for a moment, but she needed to get her bearings before she could be any use in battle.

Looking around, she hissed softly as she caught sight of Lord Skoren's body. He had fallen where he'd first issued his challenge. The sacred blade was some distance away, half stuck in the dirt; it looked like someone else must have wielded it somewhere in the madness. Miralna gritted her teeth. It was a poor omen, but this battlefield was far beyond omens.

There was noise from her left. Movement. A pair of Drule soldiers appearing from a nearby pass. They were carrying something… she knelt behind a rock, praying to the Golden Gods for their Golden Mark not to give her away. They were looking around themselves quickly, even nervously, but there was an air of triumph around them.

As they came closer, she could see they were carrying a body. An Arusian body, slumped and lifeless, wearing a crown…

…No.

She didn't stop to think. She didn't hesitate for a moment. Snarling in rage, she raced from cover, seizing the sacred blade and tearing it free of the earth. "You dare, sinycka?!" Despite their alertness, her sheer intensity seemed to startle them, and the body they were carrying slowed their attempt to draw their weapons.

The sword of the gods seemed to blaze with power as it cut through the first Drule soldier; she barely felt a hint of resistance. The second soldier shouted something at her—she didn't speak Drakure, but it sounded like a taunt. Not that it mattered. Drawing the blade free she cut down this enemy just as easily, then caught King Alfor's body as it fell.

Checking his pulse told her what she'd already known. His body was cold and heavy, and the golden marks on his cheeks—the blessing of the Golden Gods upon every Arusian—had gone dull. Shivering, she lowered him to the ground.

What do we do now?

If the Drules had seized the body, there could be no knights to speak of left alive. That she was certain of. With no knights and no king, what hope did Arus have? She felt tears forming, and reached up impatiently to brush them away. There wasn't time for tears. But what else was there now?

So far as anyone knew, the Princess and Prince were still alive. She had to get back to them. She had to get the body to them. Whatever would happen next, only the Crown could decide. And they had to know…

With the sword in one hand, the king's body over her other shoulder, she started looking around for any kind of shelter. What she saw instead was more Drules approaching from the pass. The second soldier she'd killed hadn't just been mocking her… he'd been calling for backup.

Dovoyat pol.

Setting the body back behind the rock she'd used for cover before, she pulled the king's cloak over his head and steeled herself. If she could just hide him, just cause enough of a scene to distract them, just deny the body to the enemy… it would be enough…

A shadow fell over her. And in a soft flurry of wings, a black and gray gryphon landed by her side.

"What…?" She stared at the creature in confusion. Gryphons preferred the remoteness of the mountains for a reason; they never approached people. But it stepped closer to her, sharp eyes fixed on hers, a regal intelligence shining there.

Suddenly there were more of them. The skirmishes she'd heard in the distance… the Drules had been fighting gryphons? It didn't make any sense. And what made even less sense was the great beast before her giving a slight nod, then gripping King Alfor's arm with one powerful talon.

Was she really going to argue with something that could rip her open with a single strike? At least it wasn't a Drule. And there was something… a crackle of lightning running up the back of her neck, the look in the creature's eyes…

"Go on," she whispered, stepping back. "Keep him safe from them."

With a fierce cry, the gryphon seized the body and took to the sky. Four others came to flank it, blocking sight of the body from the ground. A few more were keeping the Drules occupied, though they were disengaging… as if they'd done what they came here to do.

They weren't here to save her, that was for certain. She had to go. Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from the gryphons until they vanished into the dark clouds above… something fell where they'd vanished. A glinting bit of gold, dropping from the sky and slamming to the ground at the feet of some of the Drules, snapping and twisting on impact.

The crown of Arus was broken.

Staring silently, Miralna looked down at her hand. She could try to deny that to the Drules as well. She could choose her duty to the Crown, and make an ill-fated effort to spare that symbol from humiliation. Or she could choose her duty to the sword… and flee with a symbol of victory, to fight again.

With one last look at the departing gryphons, she turned and ran.