《Dream Cycle: Book 1 - A Dream of flight》


 Chapter 1: The Fall

    Steven had, just very recently in fact, done something bad. Really bad. A more morally conscious mind might say heinous, though Steven wasn''t particularly moral or conscious, speeding down the winding Boulder mountain road at close to a hundred miles an hour, one hand pressed against his bleeding stomach, the other clenching the wheel. His eyes glanced up at the rear view mirror every five seconds, nothing behind him but road and beyond that forest.  He hadn''t thought this far ahead. He didn''t think he''d need to.


    Thoughts flashed through his mind like film reel, a tempest of incoherent noise. Home. He''d go home first. Was it smart? Probably not. Definitely not. But Steven, paranoid and always in expectation of some nebulous dread and doom much like his father was, kept most of his cash under his mattress, believing it to be safer than the bank. If he was going to be on the run, he needed money. Everything required money, even crime.


    When Steven pulled up in front of his small suburban house, clone houses lined up next to it for blocks, he was surprised by how serene the scene was. He wasn''t exactly sure what he was expecting, but he was at least anticipating cop cars outside his house. But the only vehicle there was his mom''s 2005 autumn green Subaru Outback, parked in front of the driveway, dents in the hood from hail that his mom swore every tax season she''d finally get fixed.


    Steven parked his old Ford pickup a little down the block, not wanting his mom or sister to see it. It was inching closer to dusk, the sun beginning to set and a soft, golden glow cast over the mountain town. Before getting out, Steven grabbed a black hoodie from the back seat and pulled it over his now ruddy white tee, groaning in the process. He also grabbed his Vanilla Colorado Rockies baseball cap, tossing it over his obsidian hair then depatring his truck.


    Steven weaved down the suburban street like a ninja, at least that''s how he''d like to think he appeared. When he reached his house, he jumped (in reality fell over, that''s what happens when you opt for the computer lab instead of gym class everyday, kids) over the old and rickety white picket fence, the dewy grass of his backyard greeting his face with a thud.


    After dusting himself off a little, he climbed up the ponderosa pine tree which sat next to his bedroom window, and leaped to the window ledge. He always kept his window open a crack for fresh air, especially during spring when the breeze was nice and the air seemed sweet. All this intense motion of course only caused Steven''s already gaping wound to stretch open even more, the leap from the tree to the window causing Steven to emit a moan that could only be compared to the orgasam of a frail man.


    When inside, Steven cried briefly for a moment on his maroon carpet, then quickly came to his senses and got up. He hoisted up his mattress, underneath a stack of cash, a box of condoms for sensitive skin (never used, unfortunately), a half-eaten bar of shrooms and his father''s pistol.


    Steven looked at the pistol, his chest heaving as his breath became heavy. He fell to his knees, beginning to weep. Not the cute, movie weeping either. He sobbed like a mother in mourning, snot dripping from his nose. He put his face in his hands.


    "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What did I do-"


    "Steven?"


    Steven jerked his face around, Sarah standing in the entrance of his room.


    "Oh, hey Sarah", Steven said, sucking his snot back into his nose and wiping his face with his hoodie sleeve. "W-what are you doing?"


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    Sarah only stood, looking at Steven, the setting sun sneaking through the window and reflecting on her dusky brown hair. A trait from dad.


    As Sarah looked at Steven, it wasn''t anger in her eyes. Just disappointment. Which made it all the worse.


    "You''re on the news", Sarah only replied.


    Steven sniffed, nodding his head.


    "Yeah, I figured."


    Sarah leaned against the doorframe, her teddy bear ''Professor Mango'' bumping his head against the door.


    "Are you leaving?"


    Steven nodded his head.


    "I have to."


    "Mom''s in her room. She''s been crying the last twenty minutes or so. It''s scary. I don''t know what to do."


    Steven forced a half-smile. "You''ll think of something", he said.


    Sarah didn''t nod, or reply, her gaze lowering to the carpet.


    "...are you a bad person?"


    Steven put his head down. He opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. He grabbed the cash and pistol and threw it in a backpack that lay on the floor, zipping it up and putting it on.


    "I-I gotta go now, Sarah."


    Steven walked to Sarah, crouching down on his knee. He placed a hand on her shoulder.


    "Be good, Sarah. I-I love you."


    Steven reached out his hand, but Sarah leaned in, wrapping her arms around him.


    "Okay. I will."


    Sarah unwrapped her arms and pulled back, Steven crying.


    "I mean it. I love you."


    Sarah nodded her head.


    "I know."


    Steven planted a kiss atop Sarah''s head and got up, returning to the window. He jumped from the window ledge and to the tree branch, the branch snapping and Steven falling to the ground.


    "Steven", Sarah screamed, running to the window. When she got there though, she was met with a strange sight. The blades of overgrown grass blowing slightly, and Steven  nowhere to be seen.


    ***


    Steven wondered if he was perhaps in hell at first, blackness encompassing him like a blanket. He was raised Christian, Pentecostal specifically, but abandoned religion long ago. He teetered back and forth between agnosticism and atheism, occasionally returning back to religion when his luck in life was low.


    "God?", he spoke aloud to the void. No response.


    "Satan?", he said aloud. No response.


    Perhaps reincarnation was the truth, and this darkness was just his mother''s womb.


    "...mother?", he asked. No response.


    Like yanking off a blanket, the darkness disappeared, only to be replaced by a blinding white light.


    Steven blinked repeatedly, like Paul blinded by the light. When his vision finally came to, he found himself looking at an expansive mural. Within the mural was almost a story, told in images instead of words. A shooting star, emerging from the void. A giant serpent. Architecture which seemed to defy logic. A lion. It continued, but Steven lost interest when he suddenly came to the realization that there were people in the room.


    The room, which would be more aptly described as a throne hall, was massive in size and scope. The floor was gold, with oyster white pillars erected every fifteen feet or so on both sides. Men, guards, Steven assumed, were lined across on both sides like the pillars, stoic and unmoved. They donned charcoal steel plated armor, and held in their arms mechanical rifles which seemed to hum. Their helmets arched up on each side, the shape of which was like a wing. The only opening in their helmet was a small window which ran across their eyes. On their backs were strapped silver katannas, the handles adorned in red leather with strange engravings. In the center of the chest piece was an insignia of a lion with horns like a ram, three swords above his head like a crown.


    Across the room sat a large, translucent crystal throne, a girl seated in it. Her towheaded hair stretched almost down to the floor, and atop her head was a golden helmet with wings on each side, much like that of the guards. Her skin was pale, and her cheeks flushed and ruddy. At her feet sat an enormous lynx, ram like brown horns spiraling from his head and two, gigantic white wings from his back. The girl looked at Steven, her eyes of dusky complexion and in them a ruthlessness, but also desperation.


    "Oh great hero", she spoke, her voice like silk. "The galaxy is in great peril, and our people face annihilation. Will you help us?"


    Steven looked at the girl, and the room, his mouth agape. He looked down at his stomach, and realized he was bleeding even more, then fell back against the gold floor, unconscious.

 Chapter 2: The Fall Part 2

    They say the stone, which in reality was a strange, black crystal of circular shape and form, with what seemed to be rushing dark oceans inside, was forged by a group of kings, alchemists and heroes long ago. Forged out of a dying star, and passed through a black hole. Ancient, and bygone alchemy casted upon it, strange technology entwined within it, the origins of which was long forgotten. Though its design and craftsmanship were complex, bordering on the point of absurdity, its purpose was simple. Almost childlike.


    To test the mettle of man.


    The stone would be placed in the hands of one deemed a hero, or warrior of renown. Should they hold the stone for more than a minute, they would have passed the test. The orb had judged them worthy. Should they fail, they would be burned alive. Igniting in stange and eldritch fire, which consumed both the body and soul.


    Steven, now awoken after passing out for several minutes, one of the guards lighty kicking him in the head, had gotten a stange sap poured over his wound, which seemed to speed the healing process, and was now awaiting his time to hold the stone. Steven, of course, knew that he wasn''t a hero. In fact, he was quite the opposite. Should this group of strange individuals (possibly demons, Steven hadn''t quite ruled out the possibility he was in hell, and this was some sort of hazing initiation) discovered what his last deeds were before leaving earth, they would have thrown him before the lynx.


    "The orb, my lady", said one of the guards, emerging from one of the towering corridors, a golden chest in hand.


    The girl nodded her head.


    "Even though we are sure you are the hero that was foretold, and the firmament gate wouldn''t have opened had the blood not been deemed worthy, the test is required. It is law, as well as tradition. Sir Hugh, you may proceed."


    The guard nodded his head, turning for Steven. His weighty footsteps echoed in the hall as he walked to Steven, setting the chest down next to him with a thud. Another guard came forward, two, seven inch black stone keys in his hands. He handed them over to Sir Hugh, who stuck them in the two keyholes atop the chest. He turned them, a vein on his face and grunt from his mouth revealing that the act required more strength than appeared. The box hummed a moment, then, like a puzzle piece, the top and sides began to fold and shift, after a final click the top opening, revealing the orb which was partly covered by a white blanket. The keys ejected up, Sir Hugh removing them.


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    "Your turn, lad", Sir Hugh said, rising up from the ground.


    Before stepping away, he looked at Steven, his eyes hard, but a kindness underneath. Subdued. He nodded his head before turning away.


    Steven looked at the orb, then around the room. This was too much. What happened before...what he did, was already too much. This was bringing it beyond the pale.


    Steven remembered a conversation he had with his mother, Barbra. It was during the high peak of August summer, when the sun seemed to scorch the land with a vengeance. They were behind on rent, their front left tire had just popped on their way home from the grocery store, and Steven had just revealed hours earlier that he was fired from his gig as a moving man. They sat in silence briefly, then, almost simultaneously, burst out into laughter. Barbra said she found a throughline through life. The worse it got, the funnier it seemed to be. Senseless and meaningless cruelty ascending to absurdity.


    It was ironic. Steven loved animes, especially ones about average joes being transported to another world, where herodom and glory awaited. Here he was though, in a strange land, surrounded by strange people, and he''d never felt more miserable in his life.


    Steven exhaled a heavy breath, deciding on picking up the orb. He knew he was no hero, and felt a strange relief that he would at least die. Hopefully, permanently this time.


    Steven inched his knees towards the chest, grabbing the orb and removing the white, silky cloth which coddled it. It was cold, and hummed and pulsed with quiet power. He continued to hold it, the seconds going by and the crackling of the orb increasing. But still cold. The girl leaned forward in her throne, her eyes wide and the very oxygen seeming to be sucked out of the room as if ejected into the void of space.


    Then Steven felt a terrible, horrific searing pain in his palms, and his hands ignited on fire. The fire crawled up Steven''s arms as he writhed and wailed in pain.


    "Enough!", the girl shouted. "Remove the rob."


    A guard came forward, picking up the white cloth and carefully taking the orb, placing it back in the chest, the chest automatically beginning to close.


    "The healer?", the girl yelled. "Where is he?"


    An older, chubby man with a receding hairline donned in a maroon tunic shuffled into the room from one of the hallways, a brown glass bottle in hand.


    "I am here, my lady. My apologies."


    He came to Steven, crouching and pouring sap from the bottle onto his hands and arms.


    "Your lady", the healer said, observing Steven''s still scorched and bleeding arms, which filled the room with the smell of burnt flesh. "The Elder tree sap...it''s not working."


    "Take him to the infirmary", the girl shouted.


    Two guards came forward, one hoisting up Steven''s legs, and the other his maimed arms. Steven went unconscious, for the third time now today, but before he did, he thought of his last words to his sister, and his heart was filled with shame.

 Chapter 3: The Fen-Har Wraiths

    The Fen-Har Wraiths, which is to say death itself, were a specialized legion of soldiers from the Ten-Harian Empire. Taken from their mothers as early as birth, they were raised on artificial moons which orbited the planet Tebar. The Ajar galaxy was known for its chaotic and oftentimes hostile makeup. Planets which were toxic, and others whose structure seemed hostile to even the suggestion of logic, stars which went supernova and solar storms that seemed like battles between the gods. Tebar was close to the supernova blackhole, Kedar, which caused discrepancies in time and gravity, most notably of which was severe time dilation. Due to such close proximity to the blackhole, the passage of time was much slower, and the lifespan of the Fen-Har Wraiths was greatly increased. Rumors which spread through the galaxy like radiation whispered of members that may be centuries old.


    The Fen-Har Wraiths would never, bar extreme or unprecedented circumstances, leave the Tebar moons. The Ten-Harian Empire would plant gateways throughout space, especially near military stations of enemy states or empires. The Fen-Har Wraiths would then activate it, transporting entire ships and legions to Tebar, where they would more often than not be decimated by the ferocity of the Fen-Har, and the shock of the warped spacetime. Other times, the Fen-Har would transport them to a nearby solar storm, engaging with the combatants in the midst of a raging tempest.


    The latter had happened in this instance, when Steven was transported by some strange flightcraft that resembled a beetle to an infirmary, he was surrounded by chaos and burnt soldiers who wailed in agony. The air drenched in the odor of burnt and soon to be rotting flesh.


    "What happened", Sir Hugh said, walking beside Steven as he was pushed through the cluttered and frenzied halls on a levitating silver board. A soldier wearing a blue flight suit walked with them.


    "We were on bound for a possible squirmish near the Outer Rims, joint operation between theNodeann and Anaxian space force, when a Fen-Har portal bomb was activated. Took us straight into a solar flare storm near the Tebar sector. Bastards began their onslaught right away. One of the Anaxian fleet ships was able to boom us back, but not before we suffered heavy losses."


    "Fen-Har Wraiths? Near the Outer Rims?", Sir Hugh said.


    "I''m as shocked as you are, sir. Fen-Har and marauders don''t mix. Blood and oil."


    "Were they working in unison?", Sir Hugh questioned.


    "We don''t know anything yet, sir, but I''m inclined to believe so. Stranger question yet is why."


    They reached a room, the healers ushering Steven in. Floating, watery but solid surfaces holding maimed men filled the room, a sickly smell greeting them upon entrance. Healers stood over them, their fingers weaving through the air like a conductor, white energy stretching from their fingertips to the men like spider-webs.


    "This one", the soldier said, looking at Steven. "He was caught up in the portal bomb as well?"


    Sir Hugh shook his head. "No, her Lady Helen requested that he be given first class care though."


    The soldier nodded his head.


    "Healer Kira and healer Samuel, see that this man is well tended too. I''m putting you two in charge of his recovery process."


    Healer Kira and Healer Samuel came forward, bowing slightly and putting their palm to their chest.


    "Yes, Lientunent Howardson."


    "Howardson?", Sir Hugh said, a slight smirk breaking out on his lips. "From the dwarf-star wars? The pilot kid?"


    Howardson smiled, leaning his face down in mock bashfulness.


    "Yes sir. I''m honoured that tales of my exploits have traveled so far as the Anaxian Empire, muchless fell on the ears of the great General Hugh."


    "You flatter me", Sir Hugh said, not fooled by Howardson''s act and amused at his gumption.


    "You started it", Howardson replied.


    They stood briefly for a moment, Sir Hugh reaching out his hand.


    "Let me know when they''re done. I consider his life now in your hands. Remember this."


    Howardson gripped Sir Hugh''s hand with vigor, shaking it.


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    "Of course, I''ll see that he''s not harmed, and that his recovery be to its fullest, possible extent."


    Sir Hugh nodded, letting go and walking down the hall. Howardson leaned against the doorframe, a twinkle in his eye and a crack in his lip.


    ***


    When Steven began to come to, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It smelled like ash, and dirt, and sweat, and something dead layed on the scorching desert floor. The second thing he noticed was the warm sensation he felt coursing through his body, weaving through his torso and stretching through his limbs. The third thing he noticed, his eyes now slowly blinking open, his vision blurry, was the ceiling lights above him. Steven''s heart sank so far it threatened to fall out his back and to the floor. He was alive. Again. Like Cain, he wondered if he was cursed with life.


    "Finally awake", said a male voice.


    Steven looked around the room. Healers stood across the room, their eyes closed as they wrote in the air with their fingers, white weaves stretching from them to him as well as several other men in the room. Across from them, a tall and lanky uniformed man with dusky brown hair, his small, beady eyes almost black and reminiscent of a falcon. His nose was sharp, and his mouth was cracked in a seemingly permanent half-smirk.


    "Um...yeah, I guess I am. W-who are you?"


    Howardson stood up, buttoning up his top two upper buttons as he walked to Steven. He outstretched his hand.


    "Lieutenant Howardson of the Nodeann space fleet, at your service."


    Steven observed Howardson a moment, before taking his hand and shaking it.


    "Steven."


    "Well, Steven", Howardson said, letting go of Steven''s hand. "The healers are approaching the end of your mending, I''ve already contacted General Hugh, he''ll be arriving shortly and you''ll be on your way."


    Steven nodded his head.


    "Oh...ok. How long was I out?"


    "A Little under a day", Howardson said, walking to the wall and pressing a button.The metal walls went up, revealing windows behind it. A sprawling night city sat outside, countless lights from buildings and towering structures that stretched past the clouds and crafts which flew through the air swirled and mingled together like fireflies at night. The city seemed to stretch on forever.


    "Holy shit", Steven muttered, his eyes wide and mouth so agape his lower jaw threatened to depart.


    "It is indeed...beautiful", Howardson said, gazing out the window, the show of lights reflecting in the darkness of his eyes. "Even now."


    Howardson looked at Steven.


    "You are from here, correct? Anaxian?"


    "Um...I''m from earth, actually."


    Howardson''s brows furrowed. "Earth?"


    "Yeah, it''s um...it''s in the milky way galaxy."


    Howardson nodded his head.


    "Milkyway galaxy. Hm. I don''t believe I''ve heard of that sector."


    Howardson observed Steven, his gaze fixating on his left forearm, which was still slightly burnt.


    "Your wounds. The burns. They were quite severe, more so than any solar flare wound I''ve seen. How did you come to acquire it?"


    "I, um...", Steven muttered. He wasn''t sure what to say, but felt as if he shouldn''t reveal how he came to be here. "I-I got it from a dragon."


    Steven wasn''t sure if this was gonna work, but he sure as hell hoped. This world was strange enough, who''s to say what''s beyond the pale?


    "A dragon?", Howardson replied, his brow arching up. "Dragons haven''t been seen in at least a century, much less on Anaxian."


    Fuck.


    "Well", Steven said. "Hugh received intel that they''ve returned. Her Lady Helen ordered us to look into the matter further, and, well-", Steven looked at his forearm, now mostly healed. "The rest is history."


    Howardson observed Steven.


    "Hm", Howardson simply replied. "Dangerous times indeed."


    A beep emitted from Howardson''s watch, Howardson glancing at it.


    "It seems General Hugh is here."


    Steven jerked up, oddly relieved that the gruff knight had come to relieve him from this conversation. "Oh!"


    Steven jumped from his bed, hoisting up his white gown which he wore. He walked to the door, Howardson beside it.


    "Well", Steven said, reaching out his hand.


    "Well", Howardson replied, gripping it tightly. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Steven. I feel we''ll meet again."


    Steven nodded his head, smiling, his mind thinking god I hope not.


    "For sure."


    Howardson released his grip, giving Steven a (quite hard) slap on the shoulder as he departed the room. Steven began to leave as well, but turned around, getting one more look at the view through the window. The city was drenched in dark, but seemed to glow. It was beautiful, and stirred up in Steven feelings he''d never felt before. Awe, and true, unbound freedom. For the first time in a long, long time, Steven felt slightly okay.


    "Anaxian", he whispered to himself, his eyes wide and the city shimmering in them.


    "Lad", Steven heard behind him. "Good to see you well."


    Steven turned around, Sir Hugh standing outside in the hall.


    "Time to go."


    Steven only nodded his head, departing with Sir Hugh down the halls.


    ***


    The lanes outside the orbital ring were always a nice place of reprieve from the general chaos and unsavoriness of life for Lieutenant Howardson, the Alaxian suns not too far off. He preferred to always travel in his fighter jet, partly in case violence was needed, and partly because it was a solar powered model, the steel doors sliding back to reveal windows, allowing for rays of light and warmth to stream in. Howardson gazed out the window doors to the bright sun, Henar, only turning his face when the strain became too much. Underneath him was Anaxaian, the lights of all the cities still visible, as well as the oceans. He always liked Annaxian, it was colorful, and blue, unlike Nodeann.


    Howardson inched his ship closer to the portal, one of the crafts in front of him beaming through, the gate growing to a blinding light then back to translucent black. Howrardson opened his comms system, after a moment a woman answered.


    "A call from the Lieutenant Howardson? To what do I owe the pleasure?"


    "Elleuh, are there any Blue Whale hunters nearby in the Annaxian sector?"


    "Mm..yes, the latest logs show one. He should be on the Tephin moon."


    "Good, good", Howardson replied, his eyes lost in thought." Ask if he can carry out an assignment for me, with generous pay of course."


    "Of course. What should I relay?"


    A smirk broke out across Howardson''s lips.


    "Ask him if there''s been any sightings of dragons."

 Chapter 4: Secrets in the Orchard

    Sir Hugh closed his eyes, remembering the words of his wife. Breath in. Exhale. Breath in. Exhale. Forceful at first, then shallow. Gentle. As Hugh did, he found the frenzied chaos and tension of the room start to lessen.


    "-you''re fucking crazy if you actually believe that. And that''s a big if, not exposing this for the gargantuan grandstanding it really is", Flaxen spat.


    The Council Hall, which often doubled as a war room, sat on one of the small islands that floated above the Anaxian sea. Through the towering window walls, the clouds sat just outside, birds flying by so close the wind from their wings threatened to brush the glass. A giant, ashen stone table sat in the center of the hall, ten chairs positioned on each side vertically, and five horizontally. Of the thirty seats, only twelve were seated.


    "No grandstanding at all, actually", said Lawrence, an older man, and though his body had given way to some fat, and his ashen hair receded, his figure and countenance gave whispers of a once young man of might. "Just truth. And balls. Something I know you and your boys don''t like, or possess."


    Flaxen leaned back in his seat, his mouth breaking out into a cruel smile, his tongue sliding out and wiping across his lips. His thick, black rimmed glasses had slightly fallen down, a common occurrence, and his left eye now stared naked at Lawrence.


    "...where do you get your pants, general?"


    Lawrence chuckled.


    "Where is this going, lad? We haven''t the time, nor frankly the energy, for your long winded metaphors. Flatulence would be a better use of our time, at least we''d be clearing our bodies as our mouths engaged in fruitful debate."


    A few, scattered chuckles came from around the table. Flaxen nodded his head, his smile not faded from his face.


    "Well, I only ask because...you push us into this war, this spat...this quibble with the Outer Rim riff raff. You push us to take fleets of our ships, who are already strained in their war with both the Ten-Harian Empire, the Ne-Hido fishermen, and the dwarf-star uprisings. Endeavors whose success is...questionable. All endeavors though highly encouraged by you, and your council. The billions we''ve bleed, this year alone. It''s almost unprecedented. Maybe a more learned man than me would know for sure. Learned man like yourself. But I do have to ask: where do you get your pants? Because as the empire bleeds money like one of the soldiers down in the infirmary, another causality thanks to the war you backed, you steadily encourage it in endeavors that''ll magnify that times ten...it''s almost as if it''s your money. And I have to ask, with money like that, the weight...it adds up. I''m surprised there''s not a gaping hole in your pocket. Well, maybe it''s in your back pocket...I don''t mean in the same way Harry probably has-"


    "Don''t you mention my son''s name", Lawrence spat, his face flushed red and neck veins close to popping. His meaty hand clenched, so tight it hurt himself.


    "-but maybe it''s just where your ass is. An asshole pants hole."


    Faxen squinted, his brows furrowed as he leaned in quizzically.


    "...unless...do you have an asshole opening on your pants where you asshole is, general? You always were quite close with Harry. And given Harry''s...romantic disposition...I ask this respectfully of course."


    Lawrence jerked up, his chair falling backwards. He slapped his cup off the table, glass shards scattering across the white marble floor.


    "You say one more goddamn word about my son and I''ll shove these shards so far up your ass they''ll be ticking the top of your skull."


    Flaxen threw his hands up in defense, his face in mock shock.


    "Whoa! This is a council meeting, general. Spirited debate. Nothing more. Of course I don''t mean to cause offense. We''ll keep the banter to a minimum."


    Lawrence stood, his breath labored as he eyed Flaxen, the intensity so that if it were possible lasers would beam from his eyes.


    "It''s okay, General Lawrence. Young Flaxen seeks to vex us all", said High Alchemist Samuel, whose towheaded hair was long and thick even in his primeval age. He tapped the table with his long and boney finger. "Please, rise up your chair and sit."


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    "See, General, I vex-", Flaxen began to say before Samuel cut him off.


    "You would do well to cease with any further hijinks and juvenile shenanigans the remaining duration of the meeting, council member Flaxen. Should another temper arise, I won''t intervene."


    Lawrence picked his chair up, returning to the table.


    "Now, with all that being said", Samuel said, stroking his beard. A tick when things weren''t going well. "Council member Flaxen is correct: We are currently spread too thin. Between the Fen-Har, and the complete blunder of the dwarf-star situation, which is now an almost unparalleled catastrophe, our resources are being pushed to their absolute limits. Perhaps they''ve already passed them. Though I''d rather not let the mind wander that far, least it suggest even worse, more troublesome conclusions."


    Samuel coughed, shifting in his seat.


    "Not to mention, King Tegar still has not been found. Though a possible alliance between the Ten-Harian and Outer Rim marauders is greatly troubling, and in due time vengeance shall be ushered, any inkling of resources we have left to spare should be allocated solely to the King''s location and rescue."


    Lawrence sighed, leaning back.


    "I agree. That is sound."


    "What say you, Sir Hugh? Though you have been quiet, the tightness of your brows slips secrets that much thought is being had."


    Sir Hugh''s lips broke out into a small smile, his gaze still on the table.


    "As if being looked at by God", Sir Hugh responded, looking up.


    "Not God. Just an old man that has cycled around the great suns far too many times now. It''s funny, my father, the late Lord Rebar, once said to me that old age makes for clearer vision. I always thought it a contradiction, but now I see. More than my younger self ever could. Which begs me to repeat my question: what thinketh thou?"


    Sir Hugh sighed, shaking his head, his countenance lethargic.


    "The mess we find ourselves in...is almost unparalleled. The taking of the King...my mind thinks thoughts about this, but nothing fruitful. Rushing tempest of incoherent noise."


    Samuel nodded his head, his eyes looking over Sir Hugh as he stroked his beard.


    "And what of the boy? The hero summoned from beyond the firmament?"


    "...since the orb summoned him, and he passed through the veil, we believe him worthy, but our initial training and testing was disrupted by the orb burning him."


    "You mean?"


    Sir Hugh nodded his head.


    "He failed."


    Silence overtook the room.


    "And how is he alive then?", asked General Dubar, a narrow man with greying hair and worn, leather face, wrinkles decorating it like waves in the ocean. "Does not the law and tradition say if one fails the test, they must continue to pass through the fire?"


    Sir Hugh closed his eyes, sighing.


    "W-we grabbed the orb before it reached that point and saved him."


    A gasp erupted simultaneously across the room.


    "You broke law which has been in place for millenn-", Dubar began.


    "I broke millennia old law, because we are living in unprecedented times, General. And the protection of the empire, and safety of my people, is all that concerns me."


    The room was silent. Samuel sighed, standing up from his chair.


    "Very well. We have discussed much, and much yet further is still to be discussed, but tensions and passions run high today. It is understandable. We shall reconvene at another time."


    "What about the announcement of the King''s disappearance?", Flaxen questioned, rising out of his seat."Are we still on schedule to do that?"


    Samuel shook his head. "No. Delay it. Until we are certain of the King''s location, and have brought about a plan to rescue him, it is better to keep the lie going. Fearful citizens would only exacerbate our issues."


    They processed out the hall, which was doorless, passing through a towering square opening to the outside port, crafts lining the launch pad.


    "Walk with me, Sir Hugh of the King''s Guard", Samuel said, Hugh looking up at him.


    They walked towards an orchard, trees stretching on for miles, purple and red fruits hanging from them. A green, reptilian creature that resembled a Gecko with wings came and snatched one of the purple furits, just as quickly as he appeared, flying off.


    "You planted a fair share of this orchard with your father when you were a lad", Samuel said, his gaze lost in the greenery.


    "Mm. That I did", Huh replied, a slight smile forming on his face.


    "You know, Dubar and a few other council members would object to a child being brought here. This is a place for serious business, they would say. Adult debate. Not for children to play."


    Hugh chuckled.


    "Gidion protested, however. He has a green thumb, he''d say, then he''d point, look, look at how it''s grown since he''s been here. The boy knows how to tend a seed."


    Hugh laughed even harder, a deep, warm belly laugh.


    They walked in silence, basking in the light and tender warmth of the suns.


    "Gideon, in many ways, was a prophet. Perhaps more so than any warlock or sage. He saw the coming catastrophe, the crumblings in the foundations. No one listened, me included."


    "Great Sage Sam-", Hugh began.


    "Things are deteriorating. Fast, Sir Hughes. Fast. I believe that King Tegar was taken by the Femorian Empire."


    Sir Hugh came to a stop.


    "What?"


    "I have reason to believe that Prince David kidnaped his majesty. I need you to quietly look into this, let the loudest you be but a whisper."


    Samuel and Hugh stood still.


    "Is this understood?", Samuel asked, his voice like flint.


    "Yes, High Alchemist Samuel."

 Chapter 5: Flight Lessons & Abandoned Hopes

    "Again", Hugh said, Steven''s face greeting the ground with a thud.


    Steven grabbed his sword and rose from the padded floor of the palace training room, which was located on the second floor of the structure. The room was surrounded by fortified glass windows, the ocean waves visible just outside the cliff end tower.


    He raised his white long sleeve tee, wiping his mouth, blood staining the cuff.


    "You''re being too rough", Steven said, rotating his shoulder.


    Hugh grinned, readying his sword.


    "You sound like my son. I''ll tell you what I told him. Fight back, and take your vengeance."


    Steven smirked, readying his blade.


    "When you''re ready, old man."


    Hugh grinned, quickly stepping forward and thrusting his blade at Steven, who parried it.


    "Good, very good", Hugh said, stepping back and circling Steven.


    Steven eyed Hugh like a hawk, after a moment Hugh coming forward with another attack, Steven successfully blocking it. They continued to circle each other.


    "You''ve been doing well in your trainings. You must be practicing even when I''m not here, I can tell."


    "Yeah, well, not much else to do", Steven replied, his eyes still set on Hugh, who moved like a predator.


    "Well, whatever you''re doing, keep at it. At your current pace, within another month or two, you won''t be a complete novice."


    Steven smirked, a small chuckle sneaking through his lips. As he did, Hugh stepped forward again, striking at Steven twice. Steven barely blocked the first thrust, and on the second fell to his backside. Hugh stepped forward, reaching down his hand.


    "Up and at ''em, kid, still got a lot more to do, and the suns have only begun to rise."


    Steven sighed, taking Hugh''s hand and standing up.


    "Another two months", Steven said, setting down his sword. "Funny."


    "Alas, I wasn''t trying to be. Don''t take it too hard though, for someone who''s wet behind the ears, you''re learning incredibly fast. Have I seen students learn faster? Yes. But we must take all our accomplishments as what they are: our own, and take pride in them."


    Hugh gave a slap to Steven''s back and they walked out the room, into the towering halls of the castle.


    "...the sages, the high alchemist...well, it''s just when they talk about a hero called, it''s implied there''s something special about them. Some great ability. But it seems as if I''m lacking that. Forget average, I seem subpar."


    Hugh chuckled, his gaze lowered to the grey stone floors.


    "...it is true, that the called hero''s of old were said to be warriors of renown. Mighty men, whose deeds were comparable to that of the gods."


    Hugh''s eyes observed a painting which hung on the wall, coming to a stop. In the painting an older man with long, fine, white hair, a crown atop it. His hazel eyes sat sunken in.


    "This is King Lenor, her lady''s great, great grandfather. Perhaps one the most skilled fighters and tacticians the Anaxian Empire will ever know. He didn''t lead a successful military campaign until he was twenty-nine, after the Second Great Galactic War broke out. His older brother, King Fwenar, died soon after the war started, and everything fell to Lenor. All the pressure. It revealed diamond underneath."


    Hugh observed the painting a moment more before returning to his stroll.


    "So basically what you''re saying is that I had better hope for a third galactic war to break out?"


    Hugh laughed.


    "That''s one way to look at it I suppose."


    They continued down the halls, a variety of people coming and going. Healers, maids, guards and knights. They turned down another hall towards the left, at the end an open door that led to a large balcony era outside.


    "Come", Hugh said, proceeding down the hall. "Space force crafts should be taking off right now."


    They walked down the hall, a gentle breeze permeated with the smell of salt and sea greeting them. The ocean stretched on, seemingly unending. Above it, a few scattered, levitating islands like clouds.


    "The islands", Steven said, looking at one which was shaped like a dagger. "How do they do that? Float, I mean. Is it a natural phenomena? Or artificial?"


    "Both", Hugh replied. "Those islands are about as old as the planet itself. The mineral and rock in it, its composed heavily of a magnetic substance. Causes it to do what you see now. They used to float higher, much higher. Overtime, the field has weekend, both in part due to entropy, and the pollution that often ills progress. We''ve made artificial material that''s simialr to its natrual makeup which has slowed their fall."


    Hugh gazed out at the sky, a certain melancholy beneath his eyes, almost imperceptible.


    "One day though, they will fall."


    Steven began to open his mouth, but was cut off by a loud mechanical sound. The hanger doors which sat a little away on the seaside cliff opened, their size enormous. A craft emerged, proceeding down the runway. It reminded Steven of a plane, except slightly larger, onyx black and four wings instead of two. A hum emitted, which grew in ferocity and vibration, until blue streams of fire shot out of the four wings, the ship speeding down the runway before diving off the precipice, a crack like lighting, expect louder, thundered when it shot past the clouds and into the great blue. Another soon emerged, following in the other''s path.


    "Where are they going?", asked Steven, holding one finger slightly to his left ear, the boom deafening even from here.


    "Na-Hatian moons. Really just an asteroid belt, most of the asteroids and small planets there are majorly composed of water, much like Anaxian. Only difference is, there''s an abundance of Ordaxian stone there."


    "...Ordaxian stone?", Steven repeated.


    "A mineral blessed by the gods, if there even is such a thing. Its properties allow for increased healing, increased stamina, incrased strength, increased agility, increased speed, and most importantly, it''s one of the best fuels in the galaxy. Those crafts shooting for the stars, guess what''s powering them?"


    Steven wasen''t sure rather or not he was supposed to reply, but took the safe bet.


    "...ordaxian stone?"


    Hugh nodded his head.


    "We went to war with the Na-Hatian moons, as is the path for empires, and won. They''ve been our colony for a little under two centuries now. The last seventy years though, they''ve begun rebelling, as is also the path for colonies. Acts of terrorism, guerrilla warfare, assassinations. It''s quite the debcal as is, but what makes it worse is the strength of the fighters thanks to the ordaxian stone. The Na-Hatinan fisherman spend most of their life on the ocean, in constant contact with the water whose oceanfloor is covered by the stone. Demons. That''s the only way I can describe them."


    Steven observed Hugh a moment before turning his sight back to the ocean, and the sky, and the crafts which took off like lighting.


    Hugh looked at Steven, who don''t notice, his gaze so immersed by the ships.


    "The ships", Hugh said. "You like them."


    Steven looked at Hugh, then back to the ships.


    "Yeah, um, my dad used to make and collect model planes, made it a hobby for me as well growing up. He always wanted to be a pilot, but you know, as things often go, it just never happend. I think model airplanes were kind of an outlet for living out that dream."


    Hugh considered Steven a moment, nodding his head as he turned his gaze back for the sea.


    "It''s good", Hugh said. "To share a passion with your father."


    Steven nodded, his gaze unmoved from the runway and enldes ocean, which threatened to pull him in.


    "Yeah...I guess it is."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Hugh''s lips cracked into a grin, and he slightly chuckled to himself, Steven notcing and looking over.


    Hugh stared at the ocean, a smile plastred on his face.


    "Want to learn to fly a ship?"


    Like a child on Christmas, Steven''s eyes lit up.


    "Hell yes."


    ***


    The ship hangar was Herculean in scope, the ceiling almost as high as the clouds are from the ground, and the room stretching for what seemed like miles. The atmosphere was electric, soilders and crewmen going to and fro, an omnipresent chatter in the air.


    "Look", Hugh said. "Over to your left."


    A row of twelve men donned in what seemed like early nineteen hundreds scuba diving outfits, with strange rifles holstered on their back stood at attention. A tall and hefty man that seemed to be a general of some kind, his hair ruddy and face pale and flushed, paced in front of the men, talking loudly.


    "That''s General Abby, leader of the Kinfar unit. A specialized unit bred for fighting the Na-Hatian fisherman."


    "Bred for?", Steven repeated.


    Hugh nodded his head.


    "Four decades ago, the king saw fit to pass a bill that would allow for the creation of a specialized embryo program that would make for enchaned specimans, specially for moving and figting underwater. You''d be hard pressed to come across meaner group of bastards."


    Just as Hugh utterd that, one of the soldiers turned his head towards Steven. A moment later, General Abby followed suit. A smile broke out on his face as he walked towards them, bellowing.


    "Well I''ll be damned, if it isn''t the great bastard Sir Hugh."


    Hugh chuckled as Abby came forward, Abby throwing his arms around Hugh, Hugh doing the same.


    "How have you been, old friend?", Abby inquired, pulling back.


    "Bitter...tired...unable to find sleep which continuously eldues me. Blessed though to have cycled the great suns once more."


    "Aye, I feel that", Abby replied.


    Abby tunred to look at Steven.


    "Well I''ll be, is this the great called hero?"


    Steven tentatively outstretched his hand.


    "S-steven."


    "Ah", Abby said, yanking Steven''s hand so hard his arm almost dislocated. "The stammer of a hero."


    Hugh chuckled, and so did Steven after a moment.


    "So", Abby began. "What brings fine lads such as yourselves down here? I hope it isn''t due to longing for conversation, this whole hangars gonna be empty within the next thirty minutes."


    "Actually", Hugh said. "I was wondering if young Steven here would be able to borrow one of your training ships, with me spearheading of course. Or at the least tag along in a training course with some green behind the ear recruits."


    Abyy ran his meaty palm over his mouth, his eyes in thought.


    "Mm...I do have a fighter jet that isn''t currently in use. A solar ten model. Older, but a classic. They don''t make ''em like that anymore."


    Abyy lips cracked into a grin, and he turned around for the Kinfar unit.


    "Of course, you could always tag along with the Kinfar. If you don''t mind a little underwater warfare."


    A rock found itself lodged in Steven''s throat, but Hugh laughed.


    "Maybe next time. Steven here is still finding his way around with a blade on land, water may be a bit too much."


    "Ah", Abby said with a hearty belly laugh. "A real rookie eh? Seems you got your work cut out for you, Sir Hugh."


    Abby turned, poniting down the hangar.


    "Should be door twenty-eight. Code is Etar fifty-five. Keys should be on the jet dashboard, if not, ask around for Lieutenant Anderson, he''ll show you to them."


    Hugh placed his hand on Abby''s shoulder.


    "Always a pleasure, Abby. I want to catch up more, if we ever find the time."


    Abby placed his hand atop of Hugh''s, nodding, a grin plastered on his face.


    "That''s the thing Hugh. We never will. That''s why moments like these are such a treasure."


    Hugh nodded, Abby removing his hand. Abyy looked at Steven, reaching out his hand.


    "Feel the wind beneath your wings kid, only tip I can give you. You''re either cut out for this, or you aren''t. Until we meet again."


    Steven took Abby''s hand, shaking it.


    "Thanks...until we meet again."


    Abby grinned, nodding his head and releasing his hand, departing back for the Kinfar, and the war that awaited them on the Na-Hatian moons.


    Hugh and Steven made thier way across the hanger, passing the numerous rushing soldiers, pilots, technicians, generals and crewmen that ran to and fro. They arrived at gate twenty-eight, and after Hugh had entered the code on the small computer that sat to the side of the hangar door, the metal wall lifted up, revelaing a jet inside. It was admiral blue, scratches and dents decorating the exterior like battle scars do a soldier. It had four wings like the craft Steven had seen launch earlier.


    "A little dinged up, but still a beauty", Hugh said, him and Steven walking in.


    "...little dinged up", Steven repeated, his gaze focused on the enormous craft.


    Hugh walked to the front left side, a small window like square opening and a blue ray quickly washing over Hugh.


    "Welcome, General Hugh", a woman''s voice said.


    "Requesting scan and logging of pilot Steven Grayson as well."


    The blue ray shot back out, running down Steve''s body.


    "Welcome, pilot Steven Grayson."


    The door opened horizontally, a sizable cockpit inside.


    "C''mon", Hugh said, stepping inside the craft.


    Steven followed Hugh inside, the stairs wide but Steven''s lanky legs making for easy ascension. The cockpit had a long control panel, a large monitor stretching acorss the front, underneath it buttons and panels. Two chairs sat at the front, two more at the back. Above the monitor and panels was a large, glass window.


    "Whoa", Steven said.


    "She''s a beaut all right", Hugh said, pushing buttons. He pushed a small, green button, a closet door opening acorss the room. Inside, four flight suits that resembled black haptic suits. "Grab a flight suit", Hugh said, walking away from the control panel and towards the closet. "May be a wee uncomfortable at first, but you''ll be thanking the gods in the event a breach happens."


    Steven walked towards th closet, oberving the flight suits. Two were space black, one dark, ashen grey, and the other dark blue, much like the ship itself. The suits all had name tags beneath their left breast.


    Sesbasian, Akian, Aleena and Etar. Sebastian''s was the one that was dark blue, and the one that caught Steven''s eye.


    "Can I use the blue one? Sebastian''s?"


    Hugh nodded.


    "Sure, makes no difference. I''ll nab Etar''s", Hugh said, grabbing the ashen grey suit which hung from a hanger. "Name remnids me of one of my buds from academy."


    "Mm", Steven replied, holding his suit up and studying it. "...how eaxtacly do I put this on?"


    "Look", Hugh said, turning around his suit. At the back was zipper that stretched from the neck to the buttocks. He unzipped it. "Unzip it, then put your arms and legs into the suit as best you can. Afterwards", Hugh pointed to small, white button on the cuff. "Push this and it''ll seal itself around your entire body automacitly."


    "Thanks", Steven said, still somewhat confused.


    "You''ll have to be naked first, though", Hugh added.


    Steven frowned.


    "Oh."


    "Relax", Hugh said, slapping Steven on the back. "You have nothing to be ahamed of, I''m sure men from your planet are just like us. Two pensis right? One at the front, and one at the back?"


    Steven''s mouth went agape as he looked at Hugh, who stared at him with a brick face. After  moment. he burst out into laughter.


    "I''m fucking with you", Hugh said, walking away.


    "Oh", Steven said, chuckling.


    "Don''t be ridiculous", Hugh said, heading for the restroom. "Everyone knows it''s two in the front."


    Hugh pushed a button, the restroom door opening, Hugh waking into it and the door proceeding to shut. Steven was left to ponder if this was a joke or not.


    After Hugh had returned, his ashen flight suit glued to his body, and Steven went in and in turn put his on (after stuggling briefly to get his arms into the sleeves) they donned black helmets with glass fronts and positioned themselves in the two front seats. Hugh sat to the left, and Steven to the right. Hugh backed out of the storage room and into the main hangar.


    "You ready to see the stars, kid?"


    Excitement bubbled deep in Steven''s stomach, and he felt almost giddy. He was almost in unbelief, not because of the absurd situation he now found himself in, but at the sheer joy he was now experiencing.


    ***


    "Look at this", John, aged forty-nine, said to Steven in his study, quite soul music playing from his record player that sat on the oak table. He walked with Steven, then aged eleven, alongside his many shelves, some filled with books, but mostly model planes. He led him to a dark blue one which sat alone.


    "Vought F4U Corsair. Fighter aircraft from the Second World War. One of the best fighter-bombers that ever was, or ever will be."


    John looked down at Steven with almost childlike awe in his eyes, and it was contagious, Steven''s eyes lighting up as well.


    ***


    "I''m ready", Steven said.


    Hugh proceeded down the hangar. The comms beeped, after brief static a man''s voice speaking.


    "Blue whale, you are go for takeoff."


    "Roger that", Hugh replied, pushing a series of buttons so fast Steven couldn''t keep track. He pulled a lever and the jet began to move. Fast.


    "Whoa", Steven said, being pushed back against his chair.


    "Powerful, isn''t it?", Hugh said, turning to Steven with a grin.


    "Yeah."


    They gained speed as they neared the opening, briefly passing Abby who waved. They emerged outside.


    "Hold on to something", Hugh said, pulling back the lever.


    Like lightning. Or the blink of an eye. That''s the only way Steven could describe it. One moment, they were on the cliff edge, the other ascending through the bright blue.


    "Oh shit!", Steven exclaimed, getting a laugh out of Hugh. Steven looked out the front, and could see clouds which were only feet in front of him, birds and strange creatures which flew by, unbothered and unimpressed. Above him, space.


    "C''mon", Hugh said. "I have an idea."


    Hugh turned the levers, and the ship bolted upwards. After a second, they were no longer in the atmosphere, or on Annaxian. A gigantic ring was ahead of them, rows of spacecrafts in front of them.


    "I''m going to boom us to the Esse sector, it''s near Nodeann. A smaller nation. Beautiful views for flying, though."


    "A-are you sure?", Steven asked. "I''m honestly fine with flying here-"


    "My son loved flying in Esse, you will too. I guarantee you."


    Steven studied Hugh''s face a moment, catching a brief sadness that crossed his eyes. So fast it was almost imperceptible. Almost.


    Steven nodded.


    "Yeah, okay."


    They inched closer to the ring, crafts there one second, the after a blinding white light, gone. A group of jets suddenly appeared, booming by in front of them. Hugh pulled back the lever, slightly slowing down the craft.


    "What was that?", Steven asked, leaning forward.


    "Mm...not sure. Antsy cadets possibly. Still, they should know the importance of adhering to safe traveling guidelines."


    They continued to draw forward, a large craft that seemed to be carrying cargo of some sort booming through in front of them. Before Steven knew it, they were next in line. A man''s voice spoke through the comms.


    "Destination code."


    "Esse, sector 1-5", Hugh responded.


    The transparent black began to glow white, Hugh no longer inching the ship forward as the ring itself began to pull them in like gravity. Steven squinted as the light reached a fever pitch of brightness."


    "You should close your eyes for a sec", Hugh said, squinting. "Ideally, you should have warp goggles, but closed eyes do the job just fine."


    A booming, bellowing screech rang out. Like a cry, but mechanical. Five, spider-like brown crafts appeared, flying by over the ring.


    "Shit", Hugh yelled, eyes wide as his face was washed in the white of the ring. "Fen-Har!"


    They rained down strange, blue fire upon the ring, the structure exploding. One of the blasts hit the blue whale, alarms blaring as Steven''s side of the ship was almost torn open.


    "No", Hugh yelled, pulling back the lever to no avail as they were pulled into the white. Hugh turned to Steven, real and true panic in his eyes. "Hold on to my arm." And Steven did.


    The craft was pulled into the white, which began to shift into a spinning, swirling grey. Then obsidian black. Steven felt as if a hand had taken ahold of his soul, and was attempting to pry it out of his body. The black shifted to dark maroon mixed with colors so strange Steven didn''t think there were words for them. Steven''s brows furrowed as he looked at his hands, which seems to swirl as well, almost like liquid though solid. Steven looked at Hugh, eyes wide with fear.


    "Hugh."


    Steven was sucked out the ship and pulled into the swirling and raging cosmic tempest.

 Chapter 6: Flight Lessons & Abandoned Hopes Part 2

    When Steven awoke, the first thing he noticed was the searing, scorching heat. The second thing was the smell of salt. A caw rang out, and something began to peck at Steven''s feet. He blinked his eyes open slowly, squinting at the bright sun which hung above him. His skull pounded, and he felt nauseous. Steven groaned, leaning up and looking at the perpetrator which accosted his feet. Instead of a seagull, which he was expecting (perhaps somewhat foolishly), it was something that could only be described as a kola bear mixed with a lizard. Two, small bone-white horns poked out from its furry head, and a scaly tail protruded from its likewise furry backside. Leathery wings flapped against the hot and dry wind. The creature, which Steven had never seen before (so far having not ventured from Anaxian) picked at Steven''s boots, seemingly trying to pry them off. Steven gave a slight kick, not too hard, and the creature took a few steps back, eyeing Steven. A low growl began to emit from its stomach, and it opened its mouth wide, a red, burning furnace igniting in its belly. Steven''s eyes went wide.


    "Holy shit", Steven spat, quickly staggering up and running right as the creature unleashed a stream of fire. Steven ran for a good dozen feet more, before stopping and turning around. The creature huffed and puffed, pacing back and forth on its legs and fists as it eyed Steven. The low growl began again, and it prepared for another attack.


    "Zef! Netur-da!", a rough, male voice shouted. Atop a grassy hill stood a small figure, donned in a tattered, black cloak with vintage, metallic goggles and a wooden staff.


    The koala-lizard turned for the figure, releasing a snake like hiss. It flapped its wings, lifting off the sand and flying for the figure with its claws outstretched. The rumble in its stomach began again. Like a cowboy in an old western, the figure flung back its cloak, a belt lined with weapons on their waist. The figure removed a pistol from its holster, aiming for the creature which was now only several feet away and firing. A beam of blue energy fired out, hitting the koala-lizard midair. The koala-lizard crashed into the sand with a thud, tumbling for several feet before finally coming to a stop. It stumbled up like a drunkard, swaying back and forth before rising its fist to the figure as if in curses and flying away.


    Steven approached the figure.


    "Thanks."


    "Zef! Kim-luffar!", the figure shouted out, aiming their gun for Steven.


    "Whoa", Steven said, putting his hands up and stepping back. "I mean no harm. I''m just..."


    Steven looked around, a blue ocean behind him, and sand ahead of him, beyond that grassy hills.


    "I think I''m lost", Steven said.


    "Kemar Jundti!", the figure said, approaching Steven. Two other figures came over the hilltop, one wearing an ashen colored robotic suit of some sort, which seemed too large for his body. Over it was likewise draped a tattered, black cloak. The other was a tall and lanky figure, wearing a flight suit much like Steven''s, except obsidian black, the material worn and weathered. The figure stopped a few feet from Steven, observing him for a brief moment.


    "Zay effar?", the figure said.


    "Um...what?", Steven replied.


    The figure reached into the satchel that hung from its belt, rummaging for a moment, gun still aimed at Steven, before removing a small tube. The figure threw the tube on the ground, cracking it. Black liquid spilled out, and a withering, twitching worm of some kind began to crawl away. The figure quickly picked it up before it could become lost in the sand, walking to Steven. They outstretched their hand.


    "Kep feude far."


    "Um...", Steven said, eyeing the worm with barely disguised disgust. "D-do you want me to eat that or something? Cause I''m not that hungry, I actually just ate-"


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Kep feude far!", the figure shouted, stepping to Steven and slamming the worm in his ear. The creature quickly burrowed its way into Steven''s earlobe, a moment later Steven feeling a pinch somewhere deep within his skull.


    "Ah! Fuck!", Steven spat, putting a hand to his ear as he stumbled backwards.


    "Kep Etar keper-fucking idiot is probably useless to us anyways. Wait, look at his face..can you understand me now?"


    Steven groaned, looking up at the figure.


    "W-what the fuck was that?"


    "What do you mean? It''s a translation worm. Duh. Are you such an idiot that you don''t even have one?"


    "A what?"


    "Translation worm", the figure sighed, taking off their helmet. A young girl was revealed to be the source of the gruff voice. The sun reflected on her coffee hued face, dusky eyes that reminded Steven somewhat of Sarah. "It''s a worm, man made. It goes to the cerebral cortex part of the brain that''s mainly responsible for understanding speech and attaches itself there. Permanently. It literally thrives off translating languages. Also gets extreme sexual gratification from it as well. Some theorize its in a constant state of orgasm."


    Steven considered this a moment, realizing that since he never left Anaxian, which had a global translation system via the satellites which hung in orbit, he never had need for a translation device. He also thought of the worm burrowed deep within his brain now, permanently there and constantly orgasaming. That part could have been a joke, though. At least that''s what Steven chose to believe.


    "Um...okay. Thanks for the help...I guess", he finally said. "W-where am I? This isn''t Anaxian, right?"


    The girl laughed, a mean scoff departing her mouth.


    "No, this isn''t Anaxian. Far from it. This is Hin-ful, in the Outer Rims."


    The other two figures approached, pulling back their cloaks and removing weapons.


    "And we didn''t come to help you", the girl said, putting her helmet back on.


    "We came to rob you", she said, the gruff voice now returned.


    Steven''s eyes went wide, and right as began to turn and run, the man in the obsidian flight suit aimed his pistol at him and fired, Steven being blown back by a blue energy beam and landing with a thud on the sand. The girl approached, standing over him. Steven looked up at her with bleary eyes, half-unconscious.


    "Load this dumbass up", the girl said, lifting up her boot and stomping on Steven''s head, Steven going unconscious.


    ***


    When Steven was unconscious, he experienced a strange dream. He lay alone, naked, in a large, white room. The room so large, no ceiling, no walls, no nothing except the all encompassing white could be seen. He turned his face left, then, like a blink, when he turned his gaze back forward there sat a gargantuan, ashen gate. Steven inhaled a sharp breath, pushing himself backwards across the white floor, which was cold against his skin. A metallic groan rang out, though the space had no apparent walls, seeming to reverberate. It was deafening. Steven threw his hands over his ears, groaning in pain. After a moment, it ceased, silence returning. The sound of a lock turning emitted, and the gate doors began to open, the sound of which was like the moving of oceans. Opposite of the doors was a moving, almost liquid black, which never passed the edge of the gate. Steven gazed at the sight before him, and he was filled with fear.


    "...are you a dreamer?", said a child''s voice. A boys, soft like silk.


    Steven gazed at the dancing obsidian.


    "...a dreamer? I...I don''t know. W-what''s a dreamer?"


    Silence followed Steven''s question.


    "Someone like you. Someone like me. The wanderers...the lost. The doomed. Doomed. Like everything will be. Like everything always has been. Dammed and doomed."


    Steven stared at the endless, shifting black, and his fear slowly left, strange sympathy replacing it.


    "D-don''t say that. Sure, things may be bad, but they can always get better."


    Steven''s brows furrowed at his last sentence, shameful hypocrisy feeling him like air does a balloon.


    "...no...there is no better. There is no change. There is only the eternal, unstoppable wave. The entropy."


    A massive, reverberating roar was emitted from inside the black, a moment later something emerging out.


    Steven would struggle to remember what he saw for years, only, when the moment was right, and true annihilation threatened all, would he remember. But for now Steven''s eyes went blinding white, as if his eyeballs were replaced by mini suns, and he seized and convulsed, screaming before going unconscious.


    ***


    When Steven awoke, he found himself tied to a chair aboard a spacecraft. He seemed to be in a storage room of some kind.


    "He''s awake", said a voice. Steven turned his head to the left, the figure in the oversized and mismatched metal suit leaning against the wall.


    "Roger that, just a sec", said the girls voice from his belt radio. A moment later, the door slid open, the girl coming it. She smiled, approaching Steven and stopping just a foot away from him.


    "Now that you''re up and bright-eyed, I thought we might ask you a couple of burning questions we have. Starting with: are you an Annaxian solider?"


    Steven began to open his mouth, before sighing, his head rolling back.


    "I would''ve just taken my chances with the goddamn koala."

 Chapter 7: The Lazy Wolf

    "So", the girl said, dragging a chair towards Steven and sitting down in front of him. "What brings an Anaxian solider to Hin-ful?"


    Steven sighed, rolling his head back.


    "Nothing. Just an accident."


    "What type of accident?"


    "I was going through an orbital ring when Fen-Har attacked. I guess it messed something up with the portal and brought me here."


    The girls brows furrowed.


    "Where was this?"


    "Anaxian."


    The girl scoffed.


    "Now I know you''re full of it. Fen-Har? Coming to Anaxian? Nope, never in a million years. You''d be hard pressed to get them to step foot outside of their Tebar nests."


    Steven sighed.


    "I know, I know. But it''s the truth. I was going through the portal, when they came out of nowhere and launched an attack. Next thing I know, that thing is attacking me."


    The girl observed Steven, her hazel eyes moving up and down.


    "Where''s your ship?"


    Steven shrugged.


    "Hell if I know, I was sucked out the ship. Hence my current predicament."


    The girl studied Steven a moment more, before sighing and slumping back in her seat.


    "Peter?", she asked, looking at the metal wearing figure across the room. He nodded his head.


    "Somewhat common phenomena when booming under attack", Peter said. "Apparently, that''s how my uncle died."


    The girl sighed even more.


    "Well, Steven, it looks like you are indeed useless. Maybe we could-"


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    The girls radio emitted static, a moment later a man''s voice speaking.


    "Lazy wolf, this is Doug. What''s your cargo?"


    The girls eyes opened wide.


    "We''ve already reached Vargur?", she hissed at Peter.


    Peter shrugged.


    "Yeah, like a minute ago. Ric told me", Peter said, tapping the comm on his helmet.


    "I-", the girl began, before sighing and putting her head down.


    "Wha-", Peter started to say, before the girl cut him off.


    "Just shut up", she said, grabbing her radio and putting it to her mouth, a click and brief sputter of static later, speaking into it.


    "This is Captain Mozzie of The Lazy Wolf, cargo is the usual. My crew, some odd bits of equipment here and ther-"


    "Smart ass," Doug said. "What are you bringing in?"


    The girl looked at Steven, who shook his head.


    "Mm...a possible Anaxian soldier. A pilot."


    After a pause of silence, Doug spoke.


    "Okay, and? Unless he''s a top level guy, what value does he have to us? You know how dime a dozen Anaxian soldiers are around these parts? I know you''re a little too young for a whore house, but when you''re of legal age you should really hit one up. I guarantee you the Anaxian soldiers you see there will surpass your available finger count."


    Mozzie pulled the radio away from her, sighing once again. She lifted it back to her face.


    "We...we have some Ordaxian stone."


    Peter jerked forward, his armor clanging.


    "Mozzie!", he shouted through a whisper.


    "Mm...okay...", Doug responded, subtle surprise along with piqued interest in his voice.


    "We''ll sell it to you for eighteen Heigons."


    A brief pause.


    "Mm...how about fourteen?"


    "Sixteen", Mozzie responded. "Final offer."


    A raspy chuckle departed the radio.


    "Alright, deal. Clearing you through."


    The radio clicked. Mozzie released a tight sigh and put the radio down.


    "We really need that Ordaxian", Peter said.


    "And we''ll restock", Mozzie spat back.


    "What about him?", Peter said, nodding at Steven. Mozzie eyed Steven a moment.


    "We''ll bring him in. Even if the usual suspects don''t want him, maybe someone will. Perhaps they''ll want him enough to trade for Ordaxian stone."


    "Or", Steven said, interjecting. "Here''s another idea, and just spitballing here, but maybe you could just let me go?"


    A mean scoff left Mozzie''s mouth.


    "And why would I do that?"


    "It''s...the right thing to do?"


    "And the right thing benefits me how?", Mozzie replied.


    "Clear conscious?", Steven said with a shrug.


    "Ha", Mozzie replied, turning for the door. "Bring him out to the deck, but make sure he''s bound."


    After being released from the chair, and cuffed (Peter saying that if he even attempted to escape the cuffs would detonate and blow his hands off) Steven found himself in the main deck, Mozzie in a pilot''s chair along with the man in the pilot suit. Outside, what could only be described as a firework show. Webs upon webs of asteroids and artificial structures, all quasi-bound together, the assortment of lights emitting off each one making them appear like lights wrapped around a Christmas tree. Outside of the sprawling light, an endless canvas of black. Mozzie glanced at Steven, a smirk breaking out across her lips as she noticed Steven''s face.


    "Welcome to the Outer Rims. Home of ruffians, scalawags and ne''er-do-wellers."

 Chapter 8: Thieves Part 1

    After passing through a checkpoint of sorts, The Lazy Wolf approached an asteroid that seemed more like a moon and began their descent through the atmosphere, strange creatures that resembled stingrays, except much larger (the largest one Steven spotted close to the size of a Sperm whale) flying by in the murky green clouds.


    "What are those?", Steven asked, nudging his elbow for the creature that floated by outside.


    "Fays", Mozzie replied, her focus mostly on the path ahead of her, lowering, rising and turning the levers, along with Ric. "They''re indigenous to a lot of the asteroids and other bodies around here. You see that mist?"


    "Yeah", Steven replied.


    "This being an asteroid, the atmosphere is of course artificial. Unintended sides effect, however, was its effects on the fays. It used to be, you wouldn''t see a fay larger than a Kumbah-"


    Mozzie briefly turned around to Steven.


    "That''s the creature that nearly killed you on the dune, by the way. I know your lot doesn''t see much of them over on Anaxian."


    Mozzie turned her gaze back forward.


    "But regardless, it used to be they weren''t that large. Then, come the artificial atmosphere, along with whatever other effects came from terraforming the asteroid, they suddenly began to sprout in size. On some of the asteroids further out, in the truly lawless and barren sectors, there''s reports of some the size of ships."


    Steven stared out at awe at one that was slightly smaller than the whale sized one he saw earlier, and imagined one the size of a ship.


    "Are they dangerous?"


    "Only if you agitate them", Ric said, his voice monotone as he shifted the ship sideways, passing like a blade between two fays.


    "Hm", Steven only replied, thinking it best to cease his line of questioning.


    After they descended through the atmosphere, they arrived at a sprawling, neon cityscape. They lowered for a hangar, after landing, exiting the craft for the harsh winds and rain. The air smelled of smog and electricity.


    "Move", Ric said, giving Steven a shove.


    They left the hanger, a six foot something tattooed man with a cybernetic arm lowering his gun and stepping aside. When outside, the raging elements clawed and pried at Steven, the wind so great it threatened to push him back.


    "Where are we going?", Steven shouted over the tempest.


    "To see a man named Paul", Mozzie responded.


    After getting into what (Steven assumed) was a taxi (the craft which was shaped like something between a sedan and a chopper lowering down from the clouds and thunder onto the wet city streets), they shortly arrived at a towering, obsidian structure.


    "So", Steven began. "This Paul, he some type of monarch or king?"


    Mozzie''s chest heaved, a hearty chuckle escaping.


    "No...no king or monarch. Unlike Anaxian, we consider ourselves a free people here. No kings or queens, just the rule of the triumphant."


    Mozzie turned back to look at Steven, who sat sardined between Peter and Ric.


    "Are you one of the triumphant, Steven?"


    Steven looked at Mozzie, then shifted his gaze out towards the towering structures and thundering sky.


    "No...I don''t think so."


    Once they landed, they entered the building, which appeared to be a casino, and took an elevator to the top floor. A female, robotic voice began to speak.


    "Tired of Sqaugiens sneaking onboard your ship and taking your food? Try our new Sqaugien repellent system: Sqaugien be gone. It''s simple: attach a Fleporian electric eel to your nervous system, and once your spinal fluids have properly fertilized the-"


    The elevator door dinged, and Steven found himself in a large and luxurious office space. After a moment, the door to the left of the room opened, and a tall, flaxen haired man in a white suit came in, two guards behind him.


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    "My apologies Ms. Mozzie for being late. Had some delinquents causing a scene. Poor temper management and low intelligence, combined with loosing a hefty sum of Heigon, never a good mix."


    "Ne''er-do-wellers", Mozzie replied.


    "Exactly", the main said with a chuckle. His eyes landed on Steven.


    "My, my, seems you have an Anaxian pilot in your captivity?"


    "Yes, he apparently crashed here while booming. Claims it was due to a Fen-Har attack."


    The man''s eyebrows rose.


    "On Anaxian?"


    Mozzie nodded.


    "So he says."


    The man stepped towards Steven, after observing him a moment outstretching his hand.


    "Paul."


    Steven stuck out his elbow, his hands still cuffed.


    "Steven."


    Paul stared at Steven''s elbow a moment before shaking it as best he could.


    "Pleased to make your acquaintance."


    Paul walked to his desk.


    "Free him, if you will", he said.


    Mozzie''s mouth opened, and the beginning of a word sputtered out before she groaned, motioning for Ric to free him.


    "So", Paul said, pulling back his chair and sitting. "Mozzie, what brings you here? I''m hoping that it pertains to your...arrears?"


    Mozzie swallowed, Steven noticing that her hands began to fidget.


    "Um...well, no. I''m close, though. Closer than I''ve ever been. I was- I wanted to know if there''s any buyer for an Anaxian pilot. If not, we also have some salvage from a dwarf-star battle. Android parts and whatnot. Hard to come by nowadays."


    Paul studied Mozzie a moment before chuckling.


    "Mozzie, Mozzie...Anaxian pilots. Android parts. While good finds...it won''t get you much. Anaxian solders are plentiful here, just look for their bastard children running in the streets. As for the androids, scorched and destroyed material is of no value. Unless you can tell me it''s relatively intact?"


    Mozzie sighed, her shoulders slumping. Paul nodded his head in faux understanding.


    "I see."


    Paul released a sigh, leaning back in his chair.


    "I do have a proposition for you that will free you of your debt, and who knows, maybe even leave a little left for disposable income. If you''re interested."


    Mozzie nodded her head.


    "Alright, let''s hear it."


    A grin snaked across Paul''s lips.


    "Are you familiar with the Zhar clan?"


    Mozzie nodded.


    "Yeah, gun runners. Quite a powerful family, or so I''ve been told."


    Paul nodded.


    "Correct. Tomorrow, they''ll be getting a package from the Jebaur clan. So dangerous is this cargo, that none of the Jebaur will be present for its delivery. Instead, they''ll be using a team of mercenaries. They won''t be delivering it directly to the Zhar estate, but to a moon near the edge of sector eighty-five. A base of the Zhar clan. Like the Jebaur, mercenaries will be acccepting the cargo, which they''ll then deliver to the Zhar clan on their home planet Gefen. I want you to interpose in this transaction, steal the cargo, and report back to me."


    Mozzie''s mouth went agape, and she stammered for a brief moment, incoherent sounds coming out.


    "I...stealing from the Zhar clan? In sector eighty-five? From mercenaries? T-this is crazy. This is suicide."


    Paul leaned forward in his chair.


    "This is a way to pay off your debts."


    Mozzie began to open her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes darted.


    "H-how do we even go about this? Just stroll in, take it and leave?"


    Paul smiled.


    "Excellent question as always, Mozz."


    Paul nodded at the two guards, the one that stood to the left speaking into his comm.


    "Bring them in."


    "You''re familiar with the Hartshorn brothers I assume? Pair of two young ruffians, around the same age as yourself, who have made a name for themselves working with the mercenary group Skinned Lion?"


    Mozzie nodded her head, uncertain of where this was going.


    "Yes, I''m familiar. Excellent strategists supposedly."


    "Supposedly", a young ginger haired boy said with a scoff as he came out the door, another ginger haired boy next to him, though slightly taller. "I''m crushed that you would say that. I consider myself at least top three. Maybe five, if I''m feeling humble."


    Mozzie''s brows furrowed.


    "W-what are they doing here? Last I heard they were doing an operation out in the deep blue with the Mongolian fisherman."


    "Listen darling", the shorter one spoke once more. "We''re all over the place, you know? High value men such as ourselves."


    "I sent a team and kidnapped them", Paul said. "It was...an arduous affair-"


    "We saw it coming hours before", the short one interjected. "Something smelled fishy."


    "-but", Paul continued, giving a sharp look at the shorter one. "in the end, it worked out. The Hartshorns owe me a debt, much like yourself, Mozzie. I feel this would be not only a good way for them to pay it off, but also get something I greatly desire."


    "Which is...?", Mozzie replied, a coldness in her eyes and voice.


    Paul grinned.


    "The sickle of the Hunter Wolvesbane."


    A sudden silence and dread filled the room, as if an airlock had been opened and the void of space coming in. Mozzie stepped back.


    "Y-you can''t be serious. This is...this is crazy. Stealing from the Zhar is bad enough, but from the Hunter Wolvesbane? I don''t know how the Jebaur got it, but when he discovers we took it, he''s going to kill me, he''s going to kill you...he''s going to kill everybody."


    Paul put out his hands in pleading.


    "Calm down, calm down. No, he won''t. I have a plan."


    "Which is...?", Mozzie replied.


    "Of no concern to you, unlike the plans of the Hartshorn brothers", Paul said, gesturing at the taller brother. The taller brother stepped forward, his movements robotic and face and voice monotone.


    "The Jebaur and Zhar clan both believe we are still working with the Skinned Lion, and as such, have hired us to help oversee the dealing. We''ll be with the Jebaur''s mercenary team when they come to deliver the sickle to the Zhar, and will create an opening for Mozzie and the Lazy Wolf. On our signal, you''ll come in, snatch the sickle, and boom back to Leken, a nearby moon using Fen-Har portal bomb tech."


    Paul gave a round of applause.


    "Bravo Hartshorns, I''m glad to have you with us."


    Mozzie looked at Peter and Ric, her gaze eventually landing on Steven. In them was a deep sadness, and Steven, if only for a brief moment, felt some strange sympathy for his captor. Mozzie turned back to Paul.


    "Alright, we''ll do it."

 Chapter 9: Thieves Part 2

    The moon Leken, which was originally organic, created by the initial explosion of energy and following expansion, or by a great battle between the twenty-four gods depending on your creed, had been since, long ago, damaged during the Second Great Galactic War. Widely considered a geographical marvel across the galaxies, in part due to its unique makeup and close boom proximity to most neighboring galaxies (boom technology operating as a web of sorts between areas containing certain energy and high gravitational pull), it was rebuilt a hundred and fifty years after the war had ended, or in calendar verbiage 150 PSW (Post Second War).


    As the nature of things seem to be cyclical, and history favors familiar events, in another seventy years it would again be destroyed. This time in a proxy war between the Femorian and Nodeann empires. It would not be reconstructed this time. One of the greatest structures built during the reconstruction era, the Millennium Clock, which stood at nine hundred and seventy five meters, now lay destitute and destroyed, its circular shape undone and resembling something of a crescent moon. Mozzie thought it was ironic, in a way, as The Lazy Wolf lowered onto the top floor of the broken clock, that Leken, a moon itself, held a structure which resembled a crescent moon.


    The crew proceeded out, walking across rusted black marble, their figures like wraiths against the black. Another craft, obsidian and more sleek and slender than The Lazy Wolf''s, sat a little aways on the crescent. They approached the craft, Mozzie inserting a square, narrow key into a keyhole on the side and the hangar opening, the group proceeding in. Mozzie and Ric sat in the pilot chairs, starting up the ship, Peter in the back next to Steven. A deep hum began to emit, and an array of lights came on.


    "Hartshorns we are go."


    Mozzie let go of the comm button. No response, save for the silence. After a moment, static greeted them, then a voice.


    "Roger that, Lazy Wolf. Wait for our signal."


    ***


    The Andar, a mercenary group originating from the Nodeann Empire, or Kafar galaxy, were having quite the unfortunate week. First, they were chased through the Phohonean sector, a shared space between the Femorian Empire and Nodeann Empire, by law enforcement and military from both sides after trying to steal from the highly regarded King James of the aforementioned Femorian kingdom, who lay invalid due to old age, and empire close to invalid due to war, debt and overspending. Though the young prince David would, and possibly rightfully so, disagree.


    After booming to the Na-Hatian moons, believing that their pursuers would lack the conviction to follow them there, their gamble was sadly proven false, and they found themselves not only in battle with the joint military of the Femorian and Nodeanns, but pursued by Ne-Hido fishermen. There, they found themselves going from moon to moon, the oceans as deep as abysses, and waves which seemed more like mountains. On the third moon, their ship, The Iron Wing, was destroyed, cut in half by several Ne-Hido fishermen who descended down from one such wave, a massive slab of Ordaxian stone shaped into something like a sword in their hands, and dove through the armpits of the craft, destroying it, a few of the fishermen themselves dying in the process. One, who dove through the front exterior and managed to semi-destroy the dashboard shouting "Se-em Vidar" upon being shot by Captain Hermes and falling to his death. Se-em Vidar in New Linguistic Collectivism (the foremost language of the Anaxian, Nodeann and Femorian empire, recognized as the default official tongue for most known galaxies) meaning "death to the slavers."


    After The Iron Wing plunged into the ocean, they found no reprieve as a Nodeann space force unit had found them, diving for them like a hawk does prey. As tables turn quickly, and chance ultimately controls the fate of every man, the Nodeann fleet quickly found itself the prey, as a Ne-Hido ship arose out of the rushing blue, raining down fire upon the Nodean crafts. Of the Nodeann crafts, which were seven, five were completely destroyed, cannon fire tearing them apart, the salvage that remained washed away in seconds by the ocean. One managed to escape, blue jet fire roaring as it turned from the expansive blue below and towards the blue above, cannon fire still shooting from the Ne-Hido fishermen ship but the craft eventually disappearing. The last, the seventh, was partly damaged, falling into the ocean. The Andar left the wreckage of The Iron Wing, swimming for the Nodeann craft. Upon entering through a hole in the side, they quickly killed the crew and seized the ship.


    Hank, the resident tech expert and repair specialist of The Andar, quickly dispensed a Ten-Harian web weaver, a kind of glue for structural damage in ships, against the walls near the torn open section, strange obsidian symbiotic material crawling across the gap and sealing it. Captain Hermes held up the head of a dead pilot to the retinal scan, the ship coming alive. They quickly rose out of the waters and departed, fending off attacks from the Ne-Hido ship before disappearing over the tidal wave and into the familiar black of space.


    Around Negmen, a sector close to Nodeann territories, they were again ambushed by a fleet of Nodeann space crafts while getting caught in a coronal mass ejection from one of the Kafar suns. As red tsunamis erupted around them, several, obsidian, bullet shaped crafts emerged out of the crimson tempest. The controls of the stolen Nodeann craft gave out, disrupted by the field of the CME. They fought valiantly, but nonetheless were quickly overtaken by the Nodeann crafts.


    Then, like the sighting of an angel from religious myth, The Deformity, the craft of the Jebaur clans oldest son, Zen Akar, descended out of the fire that raged in the cold black. Like its name suggested, tendrils of shifting, almost liquid metallic tentacles shot out from its body of jutting and ragged iron and Ordaxian. In under a a minute, the Nodeann crafts would be destroyed, torn asunder. The Andar would then be boarded, several members of The Deformity coming aboard the vessel, among them Zen Akar. With his face concealed by a worn, maroon oni mask, he slowly surveyed the ship, then, after a moment, spoke.


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    "We have saved you from certain death, and in return you shall perform a task for us. Do you agree?"


    Hermes, who lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from a gnash on his forehead, stared for a moment, before nodding.


    "We do."


    ***


    The dust, which had started up around sixty years ago and hadn''t let up, blew across the plains, the smell of which carried faintly of ion. Daniel briefly scrunched his nose. Vindal, like most moons in the sector, used to be a hub of industry, men and women from across the Nodeann and Femorian galaxy coming in the millions for economic opportunity. As the proxy war beaten the Nodeann and Femorian empire raged, however, it would soon find itself, like most other nearby moons, caught in the crosshairs. And as is true of most conflicts, the innocent are favored to suffer the most. Daniel thought of his father''s farm on a moon not too afar off from Vindal, where they would toil the ungiving soil everyday, from dusk to dawn. He thought of this, as the hot wind picked up, brushing by his face as if in mockery and malevolence. He thought of this as his radio gasped static, and the rough voice of Barron Dongal spoke.


    "The Andar are here, just boomed in. Near the cluster asteroids of Desvin."


    "Well", Daniel said, rising up from against the wall of the derelict house he leaned against. He dusted off his worn obsidian gloves, before the dust could fall from them to the porch, the wind snatching it and scattering it across the plains. "Let''s go up to meet them."


    ***


    Hermes slowed the approach of The New Iron Wing, a gift of the Zhar clan, next to a particularly large and dented asteroid.


    "The Hilgreen gang are en route", said a woman, Tera, her voice soft like silk, as she approached Hermes side. "They''re meeting us halfway."


    Hermes studied the dead stars that sat afar off, echos of light reflecting in his pupils.


    "Good. Prepare for descent."


    Hermes walked to the dashboard, lifting up a black helmet and setting it over his head, a click and hiss of air emitting. Two, small white wings sprouted, one on each side.


    ***


    The Hefty Beetle, the craft of The Hilgreen gang, which was called that due to its dense build and armor, weaved through the web of asteroids and stopped about two kilometers from The New Iron Wing.


    "They''re here", said Thomas, the pilot.


    "Roger that", Hermes said, Hank attaching a jet pack to him. "Hartshorns, how do we look?"


    The Hartshorns sat in two chairs in the middle of the deck, monitors sat up in front of them and giant mechanical goggles that constantly extended and withdrew, tapping on the panels before them in a fluid, nonstop flow.


    "Pretty, pretty good if I don''t say so myself", responded Jack Hartshorn. "The asteroid belt is proving to be good cover, and there''s no activity within the nearby vicinity. We did see movement about several kilometers north of here, but we''re going to chalk it up to most likely the passing of a merchant ship. Gaborian mining is of course still big on some of the moons here. They didn''t scan us, so no worries there also. As for The Hilgreen gang, their weapons system is down, and we''re reading only the body heat of the five members. I think we''re in the clear."


    "Good", Hermes said, sheathing his blade. "Ishmael, if something so much as has whispers of peculiarity, fire at will."


    Ishmael, a tall and lanky obsidian haired man who sat at the weapons control panel nodded. Tera handed Hermes a long, black box, Hermes taking it. He looked at Tera, and only nodded before proceeding into the airlock, the first set of doors opening with a hiss then closing behind him.


    "Opening second barrier in 3", Hank said, pulling a series of switches. "2...1."


    The doors opened, and Hermes was sucked into the void. He moved through space like a newborn in water, the momentum pulling him. He pulled a lever towards the lower, left side of his jet pack, a low hum reverberating within his helmet and a sudden uptick in speed following. Through the web of asteroids and long destroyed structures, he saw who he assumed to be the captain of the Hilgreen gang, Daniel Hilgreen, donned in his traditional, uniform green space suit, a bulky, ashen mechanical helmet from the Second Galactic War era on his head. Daniel floated towards him, effortlessly dodging the field of debris that lay ahead of him. Hermes struggled somewhat, though not too much. Daniel was a frontier man, he was from these parts. Hermes wasn''t.


    Like two pieces of space debris, they drifted towards each other. Hilgreen came to a stop at a deformed asteroid shaped oddly like a star, feet planting into the rock, gravity boots keeping him there. He watched as Hermes waddled towards him. Eventually, they floated just feet away from eatch other.


    "The sickle of the Hunter Wolvesbane", Hermes said, outstretching the box.


    Daniel observed Hermes for a moment, before reaching out his hands and taking the box.


    Like lightning, like a thief in the night, a black spacecraft, more like a missile shot by. A harpoon shot out, and took the box from the grasp of Daniel. Daniel flew back, withdrawing a pistol which he aimed at Hermes.


    "What''s going on!"


    "I don''t know", Hermes replied, attempting to locate where the craft had gone. "It''s not us."


    "Glaxel", Daniel said, speaking into his comms.


    Aboard The Hefty Beetle, in a white room, the floor covered in several feet of strange, crimson liquid, a man hung, wires and cords extending from his inside his body to the circuitry covered walls ceiling and walls. A black cube levitated above the water, two cords extending from it to the man''s eye sockets.


    "Already on it", Glaxel said.


    The room went dim, so dim as to be obsidian, and Glaxel groaned as it exploded into a disorienting swirl of blue, white and black. He turned his face to the left and to the right, then, after a moment-


    "There, I see you."


    Glaxel raised his left arm, extending his pointer finger, his nail black and overgrown. A square hole in the ship opened, a red light beaming. Glaxel did a firing motion with his finger.


    "Bang."


    A screech, like something eldritch and unholy, rang out, and a saber of red light shot out of the ship like lightning, or possibly faster. A moment later, the slender, obsidian ship found itself returned to the scene. It immediately fired, several beams of blue striking out and attacking The Hefty Beetle. The intensity of the beams would usually be enough to destroy a standard Anaxaian or Nodeann midsized battle craft, but The Hefy Beetle''s ensuing damage was only its left wing, and part of the main deck, the craft beginning to descend. A door opened near the underside of the ship, three harpoons shooting out and goring into the obsidian ship, both now descending as they exchanged fire, further damaging each craft. The obsidian ship attempted to depart, thrusters igniting, but it was no use against the density of The Hefty Beetle.


    "What are our orders, captain?", Tera said over the comms, Hermes watching as both ships began their descent.


    Hermes continued to watch in silence, bouncing slightly between two asteroids. Finally, he spoke.


    "We were hired to safely deliver the sickle of The Hunter Wolvesbane to the Zhar clan, and that''s what we''ll do. We''ll follow them down, but don''t engage for now. If The Hilgreen Gang dies, it''s nothing to us."


    "Roger that", Tera said. "Beginning descent to Vindal."

 Chapter 10: Thieves Part 3

    Mozzie and the rest of the crew sat in silence around the main deck of their new ship, palpable dread sucking out most everything else. Mozzie''s knee jerked repeatedly in the captain seat - an anxious rhythm. Ric glanced over, furtively placing his hand on Mozzie''s knee. Mozzie looked up at him, a slight smile breaking out across her lips. Ric returned it.


    Suddenly, the comms shot out gasps of static, and the quiet of the ship was somehow even greater, the crew too scared to dare inhale in or release breath. It continued for a few moments, going in and out, until-


    "Lazy Wolf you are go for departure in approximately fifty seconds."


    Mozzie immediately snapped into focus, her and Ric flipping switches as the engine began a quiet roar.


    "Sending the coordinates to you now, we''re just estimating where Hermes and Daniel will connect, but it''s as precise as precise can be, believe that."


    A string of numbers reflected from Ric''s helmet monitor in his eyes like film reel.


    "Coordinates received, preparing for boom in thirty eight seconds."


    The small, black pyramid that sat several feet away outside began to hum, crackling electricity as it levitated into the air. It spun, faster and faster, the hum growing in ferocity as well as the sparks and lashes of electricity.


    ***


    Back aboard The New Iron Lung, Jack and Hal clacked against keys, mechanical goggles on their heads that zoomed in and out incessantly. They had a rhythm, an almost language, nonverbal and only understood by the two of them. Hermes stood near the airlock, Tera attaching a gravity pack to him.


    "They''re here", said Thomas the pilot.


    "Roger that", Hermes replied. "Hashthorns, how do we look?"


    "Pretty, pretty good if I don''t say so myself", responded Jack Hartshorn. "The asteroid belt is proving to be good cover, and there''s no activity within the nearby vicinity. We did see movement about several kilometers north of here, but we''re going to chalk it up to most likely the passing of a merchant ship. Gaborian mining is of course still big on some of the moons here. They didn''t scan us, so no worries there also. As for The Hilgreen gang, their weapons system is down, and we''re reading only the body heat of the five members. I think we''re in the clear."


    "Good", Hermes said, sheathing his favorite blade, Black Star, fashioned out of a mixture of Ordaxian and diamond, called that because of its strange obsidian hue, like that of the ancient Nodeann star. "Ishmael, if something so much as has whispers of peculiarity, fire at will."


    Ishmael nodded, his hand wrapped around the weaponry controls like it was their natural resting place, and they ought not be anywhere else save there and ready to kill and to maim.


    Tera handed Hermes a long, obsidian box; the home of the sickle of The Hunter Wolvesbane. Tera looked at Hermes, a quick flash of something between concern and sadness crossing her hazel eyes, then, like a blink, disappearing. Hermes nodded at Tera.


    Hermes proceeded to the airlock, the first set of doors opening with the sound of a serpent then closing once Hermes had passed through. There, he was met with the second and last set of doors.


    "Opening second barrier in 3", Hank said, pulling a series of switches. "2...1."


    The doors opened, and Hermes was sucked into the cold black. He drifted forward for a while, needing no momentum save for that initial push. After that, he pulled the lever of his gravity pack, a hum emitting and reverberating within his helmet then an uptick in speed. Across the field of astroids and debris, he saw Daniel Hilgreen, who floated to Hermes without as much effort. His suit was dark green, worn and weathered, and he wore the ashen Femorian helmet back from the days of the Second Galactic War. Hermes briefly wondered if the rumors of Daniel being descended from great Femorian pilots were true.


    They met, Hermes handing Daniel the package.


    "The sickle of The Hunter Wolvesbane" he said, Daniel observing him for a moment before taking it.


    ***


    "-and one", Ric said, pulling a lever as the ship levitated off the ground of the Millennium clock, and shot towards the now several feet wide and tall field of shifting matter and electricity. They went through what seemed to be an electrical tornado for a moment, before arriving at the asteroid belt, Hermes and Daniel only dozens of feet ahead of them.


    "Peter!", Mozzie spat.


    "On it!", Peter responded, at the weapons area, hand on a lever as he studied the outside monitor. He pulled the lever, a harpoon shooting out the ship and snatching the box from Daniel''s hands.


    "Success!", Peter shouted.


    "The Hartshorns sent me the location for the second Fen-Har portal bomb, preparing for boom", Ric said, weaving through the field of rocks and long destroyed structures with the precision of a surgeon.


    "Goddamn, this thing goes fast", Mozzie said, leaning against the chair as Ric sped up.


    "Gotta give some credit to Paul, he has his connection-"


    "Lazy Wolf, change course immedia-", the voice of Hal Hartshorn said, but it was too late. A maroon beam hit the back of the ship, instead of destroying or damaging it, quickly enveloping it in a sort of field.


    "What the-", Mozzie said, before everything turned black, like the deepest obsidian, and then a strange, all encompassing and infinite white. Steven''s eyes widened, the white looked familiar, but for the life of him he couldn''t remember from what.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    After this transpired, the duration of which was seven seconds, The Lazy Wolf found themselves back in the asteroid belt near The New Iron Lung and The Hefty Beetle.


    "...what the fuck...", Peter said, looking outside in astonishment. "W-what just happened?"


    "Fire!", Mozzie yelled. Ric, Peter and Steven immediately began to rain down fire, the attacks much more lethal than any on The Lazy Wolf craft. Still, The Hefty Beetle seemed to be nigh invulnerable, after several beam shots, only the left wing and part of the main deck taking any damnge. Still, this was enough as the ship began to descend.


    "It''s not much", Peter began to say. "But seems we''ve at least partly damaged their flight capabilitie-"


    A door on the underside of The Hefty Bug slid open, and there a gigantic harpoon shot out, digging itself into the underside and side of the obsidian ship.


    "Shit! Ric-", Mozzie spat.


    "Already on it!", Ric said, straining as he pulled back levers. Still, the density of The Hefty Beetle was too great, and they began to descend with it.


    "W-what do we do?", Peter shouted, he and Steven still returning fire.


    "What you''re already doing!", Mozzie shouted, flipping switches and pulling levers. Still, the ship continued to fall.


    "God fucking dammit!", Steven spat. "Of all the fucking ways to die, going out stealing a sickle for a fucking pimp! With my kidnappers!"


    "Like this is how I want to die either, asshat!", Ric responded.


    Off to the side, Peter had let go of the controls for the weaponry, on his knees and praying.


    "Oh great and mighty all father, may you and the mother goddess have mercy on my-"


    "Dude!", Steven spat, eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets as he looked at Peter. "Are you serious!"


    "All men should be serious as they prepare to meet their maker", Peter responded, quickly returning to his prayer.


    "Peter", Mozzie said, turning her head slightly around. "Get the hell off your knees, you''re not dying today. We''re going to though, if you don''t do your fucking job."


    Peter looked up, turning his head for Mozzie, Steven, then outside.


    "Okay", Peter said, rising up. "You''re right. I''ll fight."


    Peter returned to the firing station, and together he and Steven rained down hellfire upon The Hefty Beetle as they descended downwards towards Vindal.


    ***


    "Hartshorns, any idea what that was?", Hermes said upon returning to The Iron Wing.


    The Hartshorns had since gotten up from their station, putting on combat suits and weaponry along with the rest of the crew.


    "Honestly", Jack replied. "I really have no fucking idea, but if I had to guess-"


    "Alchemy", Hal finished. "Very, very powerful alchemy. Which means, we''re either dealing with an alchemist, or an-"


    "android", Jack finished, his eyes wide as he looked at Hal in astonishment.


    "You don''t think...?"


    "Well", Hal said, finishing up attaching a gravity pack to himself and now putting on a flight mask. "Given that we didn''t read more than five, separate body heat signatures, I''m inclined to follow the evidence."


    "Androids?", Hermes said. "Outside the dwarf-stars?"


    "Stranger things have happened", Hal said. "And stranger yet to happen."


    Ishmael gave a quick sharp glance back towards Hal.


    "Captain", Ishmael said. "We''re getting communication from The Hilgreen gang."


    "Put them through", Hermes said.


    Static reverberated in Hermes helmet, a moment later the rough voice of Daniel Hilgreen speaking.


    "Goddamnit Hermes, what are you playing at? Help get this damn pest off of us."


    "Would, but don''t think I will", Hermes replied. "My only job is to deliver the sickle to the Zhar clan-"


    "Whom we represent," Daniel said.


    "True, whom you represent. Key word being represent. We''ll follow you down and carefully observe the situation, possibly intervening if it poses no threat to me or my crew."


    "Goddamn Nodeann cowards. You scum are beyon-"


    Hermes cut off the communications.


    "Daniel''s just a little rowdy", Hermes said, walking to the window and observing the two crafts spiraling. "Like most frontier men. It''s all the hard living."


    A portion of The Hefty Beetle exploded, red flame spreading out over the blue atmosphere.


    "How long until they both make contact?", Hermes asked.


    "Approximately thirty seconds", Thomas said, descending the ship, but not so far as to come too close to either ship.


    "Alright crew", Hermes said, his face covered by his obsidian helmet, but a crooked smirk most likely underneath it. "Prepare for landing."


    ***


    The Osiris, also know as the little green devil, both due to its dark green scale covering and resilient nature, its species having survived the bombings of Vindal during the war, had since began to thrive a little under twenty-five years ago. Adept diggers, they spent most of the day underground in complex tunnel systems, coming out only to hunt or scout the land.


    We come across a particularly successful Osiris, a young male who has recently found a mate. He comes out of his tunnel, seeking to find food for the both of them. If he continues on successful in this regard, the female will agree to mate with him and give him offspring. He has, since this morning, caught two Snapple beetles and one Fergy Mouse. The female seems to prefer Snapple beetles, so that is what he will particularly be searching for. That is, what he would have been searching for had two, enormous crafts not crashed into him.


    A storm of dust raged, resembling something of a tornado or tempest, sand dancing in the air.


    "Go, go, go!", Mozzie''s voice rang out. A minute later, four, levitating motorbikes departing like lightning out across the desert.


    In the moments following, the sand would start to disperse, though only a little. Hank arose out of the swirling sand, binoculars to his eyes.


    "I see them."


    "Good, let''s go."


    Six hover bikes likewise departed the dusty tempest, in pursuit of The Lazy Wolf.


    ***


    The Lazy Wolf rode across the desert plains, ironically, like wolves. Mozzie led, with Ric behind her, Peter and Steven after that.


    "What the hell do we do now!?", Peter screamed.


    "Well, we don''t lose our composure for one", Mozzie replied. "We need to contact the Hartshorns and see where we go from here. Ric, how''s our comms?"


    "Not too good", Ric replied. "We need to get to a higher elevation."


    "There should be a mesa not too afar off", Peter said. "North, I think."


    "How do you know that?", Mozzie replied.


    "Maps show an elevated land mass nearby, well, sort of nearby. Plus, my grandpa used to be a miner in these parts. Back before everything fell apart. He died, durning the bombings. I don''t know if it was here, but definitely one of these moons."


    "Ric?", Mozzie said.


    Ric nodded his head, looking at the monitor on the hover bike dash.


    "He''s right, eleven kilometers north of here is an elevated land mass, the mesa most likely."


    And just like that, a bolt of something like lightning, or hot fire, but black, shot by Peter''s head, almost hitting him. It shot into a cliff end, pieces of rock scattering.


    "Jesus!", Steven spat, ducking his head as a piece of debris flew overhead.


    Ric turned his head back briefly, off in the distance a group of bikes, more advanced than theirs, following.


    "Go!", Mozzie spat, revving her engine as her bike shot up a small, rocky incline, flying through the air a brief moment before landing back on the dirt.


    They rode across the expansive brown terrain, from the eyes of the great blue above, appearing like small, black dots, the dots behind them ever gaining ground.


    Another burst of gunfire, several shots hitting the nearby rocky terrain, the rest disappearing into the horizon. Ric spinned his bike around, aiming his wrist as a gauntlet on it opened, revealing six chambers. The chambers spun, emitting a deep hum. Ric closed one eye and squinted with the other.


    "Ric!", Mozzie shouted.


    "Keep going, I''ll catch up in a moment."


    Three booms rang out as small orbs of crackling blue energy shot forth. A blast blew by Barron Dongal, destroying a small boulder ajectent to him, another zooming by Daniel, grazing the exterior of his helmet if only by a whisper.


    "Huh", Daniel said, in a sort of slight laugh or chuckle."This one''s got a sharp eye."


    Daniel outstretched a pistol.


    "Though I''m sure not sharper than mine."


    He fired, a blast of obsidian electricity shooting forth. It crackled like lightning as it flew, hitting the front section of Ric''s craft, his bike flipping over and Ric being sent spinning through the air, Ric eventually tumbling on the ground for several moments before coming to a stop, his head hitting a rock.


    "Ric!", Peter shouted, spinning around.


    Steven (who had been lagging behind) came to a halt besides Ric.


    "Ric!", Steven yelled, after a moment leaping off his bike and running for Ric''s limp body. Ric, crouched and shuddering near the semi large boulder, caused a sight that made Steven''s eyes widen. He struggled, hosting his head up enough to only look at Steven.


    "You can''t tell anyone."


    "I...I won''t."


    Ric studied Steven''s face, a strange expression crossing it, if only briefly. Only Steven could possibly make out what it meant.


    "I believe you."


    "Ric!", Mozzie said, circling back and leaping off her bike and crouching besides Ric, Steven already tended to what needed to be done, Ric''s body covered in a piece of tattered cloth from Steven''s cloak.


    "Moz-"


    "Are you good to go?"


    Ric grunted, standing up.


    "No other choice but to go."


    "Your bike is all but destroyed, who''s-"


    "I''ll ride on Steven''s," Ric responded.


    Mozzie looked back between Ric and Steven a moment, something strange crossingher eyes, but nodded nonetheless.


    "Okay."


    Another shot blew by, narrowly missing Mozzie.


    "We need to go, now!", Peter said.


    Steven helped Ric onto his bike, seconds later the group resuming their trek. A cloud, or rather a gathering of large clouds, dust clouds, began to roll in overhead, darkening the blue. In the distance lighting began to descend.