Prison ships had no names, merely designations. Kathen had clocked this one as the 178748-A. It had been emblazoned on her hull for all to see as he and the few other inmates from the local jail were lined up, one after the other, outside. It had been a chilly morning on Galvorin III, the dew still sticking to the grasses, the clouds overhead promising a light rain. Colonists had watched from windows and half-opened doors, for it wasn't every day that so many inmates needed to be expelled and sent to a prison world.

A prison world, to await trial.

A trial, that would maybe come in a hundred years.

If he was lucky.

Kathen's stomach roiled at the thought. His jaw was set as he merely stared at the ray-shielded walls, hunkered in a corner, waiting for a more cynical fate. The 178748-A was a silent bird, the din of her engines hardly ringing over the sobs of a fellow prisoner the next cell over, the stomping metallic boots of Federation soldiers as they patrolled down the ship’s halls. Kathen had to strain to even hear them rippling beneath the floor.

And so, he waited.

He'd already spent two days in Galvorin III's jail. It was a small colony, a single town of around two hundred people, and like many outposts in the Outer Reach, they only held their prisoners for so long. Unless there was an official trial by the sheriff, justice and punishment was done off-world. Prison ships trawled the Outer Reach, and it seemed there were almost as many here as there were mercantile vessels and seed ships.

The bottom line was, Kathen had already spent two days in jail.

He could wait for a few more.

After that, though, he was going to need to get crafty. He didn't exactly desire spending the rest of his life on some blasted rock mining for gods know what.

He was on that line of thinking – wondering how to escape, how to subdue the guard without causing too much of an alarm – when the ship abruptly halted. It was a subtle shift, due to the artificial gravity in place. The ship to lurch again, signs that it was beginning to fire its thrusters backwards to halt its forward momentum.

Then that, too, died. They were floating in open space. Out of Warp.

“The hell...?” he murmured aloud.

There was the sound of metal doors barking open. Soldiers talking to one another.

Whispering, in almost reverent tones.

And Kathen soon realized why, as walking through the final door was the Prime Voice. Olendris Valm stood in full ceremonial gear, with his dark blue robes the color of Alden II's sunset and the Golden Horns of Makra adorning his shoulders. His over-large eyes slid over to Kathen's cell, and he strode forward.

“Kathen Aru,” he drawled.

“Prime Voice,” Kathen said.

The soldiers were whispering to themselves, looking upon the Prime Voice with something akin to awe in their eyes.

“How did you end up here?” Valm asked.

“...A bar fight,” Kathen said, “Some local thug was getting a bit too loud for everyone, and a bit too frisky with the barmaids.”

“And you intervened.”

“I just told him to stuff it up his arse, is all,” Kathen said.

“And then you proceeded to break his nose, his arms, and his legs.”

“...He was getting very frisky.”

“He was the mayor's son,” Valm said, “I've done my research on your little... incident, Mr. Aru.”

Kathen gave the Prime Voice a rebellious, dark look. Valm simply stared at him, his face inscrutable, his stance pillar-like. Damn, was he good at hiding his thoughts.

“You are to be released,” Valm said, “Your charges, dismissed. But know this, Mr. Aru. Your guildmaster had to spend quite a bit of time securing your freedom. He owes quite a few favors, now.”

He nodded. One of the soldiers clicked a button on his forearm, and the ray-shields dissipated. Kathen stood up, a smirk slowly smearing up his face.

“But sir,” he said, “You are the guildmaster.”

There was a quiet moment as Valm and Aru stared at one another.

It was Valm who broke first, the solid, practically ghost-like facade falling away as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that dissolved into a full laugh. Kathen laughed as well, slow at first, and then into a full-on larking. The two sounds of the mentor and mentee rang up and down the hallways of the ship.

And Valm walked over, embracing Kathen, before pulling him back and slapping him on the shoulder.

“Kathen!” he said, “You should have broken his spine.”

“Yeah, I should have,” Kathen said, “But I wanted him to keep a little bit of his dignity, you know?”

“Dignity?” Valm said, “There was no dignity in that man. Walk with me.”

He swept away. Kathen followed closely behind. There were, he realized, escorts waiting just out in the hall. Rhunea and Oliander, he recognized, the doe-headed magician giving him a nod in recognition. Oliander, as always, was quiet, though the golem put a hand on Kathen’s head in an awkward, clubbing pat.

“Hey, easy,” Kathen said, “It took me days to get my 'do like this.”

Rhunea let out a snort, and from seemingly out of nowhere she drew out a comb and began attacking his long, sunny hair. They awkwardly stumbled after Valm, Oliander bringing up the rear, as they made their way down the prison ships. Valm took a left, then two rights, and though this was his first time onboard the 178748-A, he walked as though he had lived within her for years.

He had designed her line of ships, after all.

“Now,” Valm said, “Your little business on Galvorin III is finished, correct?”

“Aye, sir,” Kathen said, pushing away from Rhunea for a second, “The colony's piracy problems are at an end.”

“And you decided to stay awhile for the drinks?” Rhunea chuckled.

“Yeah,” Kathen said, turning to face her as he walked, “They were good. The weather there's perfect for Saltorin brandy.”

“Indeed, Mr. Aru,” Valm said, “But perhaps you could try thinking with your head, and not with your fists for once.”

“All due respect, sir,” Kathen said, “My head and my fists were in agreement. I really took my time thinking this one through, you know.”

“All two seconds,” Oliander said, in his grating, gravely voice. Rhunea snickered.

“Well,” Valm said, approaching an airlock, “Be lucky we found you in time, Kathen. I would rather not have to pick through every prison world for your name.”

He clicked a few commands into a side-panel, and the airlock opened. The connection between the prison ship and the Sovereign Melody held, and Kathen could see the familiar gray tunnel that was the Melody's transit bridge. Specifically designed to dock with other ships, transit bridges were among the most common means of transporting goods between two vessels. Long ago, he had read that teleportation technology had existed that made these interactions a breeze – a click of a button, and you were on the other ship. But knowledge of how to make such devices had faded with time, and only a couple ships in the galaxy still possessed them, more oddity than luxury. The Melody's transit bridge was a ropy one, overtly long to accommodate the old warbird's great size, snaking out from beneath her hull like entrails. They walked across, trading a few words, the lights dimming down to a cyan glow. Rhunea continued combing at Kathen's hair, and they were halfway through the bridge when she deemed her work done, and left him be.

It was still a tangled mess.

Soon enough, they were within the Sovereign Melody herself. She was an ancient warship, one of the first that Valm had designed during his years as a shipbuilder, and he had commanded her for so long it was second nature to the Prime Voice. He had, upon the Melody's retirement, saved her from the scrapyards, turning her into the premier flagship of Pagan Chorus. Where Valm went, she went, like an overly large puppy.

Valm had looked disappointed indeed when Kathen had brought that up.

They walked up to the bridge, dodging past their fellow guildmembers, permanent fixtures of the Melody who were guildfolk in name only, in actuality former military veterans whom Valm had attached to Pagan Chorus as his crew for the fleet. They very rarely actually planeshifted and went out into the multiverse, only doing so when Valm commanded a mission personally.

Which, considering his position as head of the Federation government, was rare indeed.

They saluted Valm as they walked, giving nods to Kathen, Rhunea, and Oliander as the four of them made their way through the ship. But it was when they approached the lift that the group separated.

“Well,” Kathen said, stretching, “I'm going to my quarters. For a shower, some actual hot food, and to find something to wear that's not prison clothes.”

“I don't know,” Rhunea said, “I think orange suits you.”

“Har,” Kathen said, “Permission to leave your side, sir.”

“Of course, Mr. Aru,” Valm said, “Get some rest. Rhunea, Oliander, with me. I want to go over a few reports you had about that activity on Methusaleh.”

“Mrm,” Oliander rumbled.

“Sleep well, Kathen,” Rhunea said.

“Will do,” Kathen said. He stepped back, giving them a wave as they stepped into the lift. He made for his quarters, rounding a few corners, heading up a couple of ramps, until he was on the ship's fifteenth deck, which was primarily taken up by living spaces. His own room was on the left, past Old Scar's (when the grizzled piece of jerky was actually traveling). Password protected, after a little debacle with Jelethen, and he changed the password every week. Kathen keyed it in, walking into the relatively sparse space. Valm allowed for very little decoration aboard his ship, and the only bit of liveliness Kathen had managed to sneak on was a small flower sticker he had placed on his shipboard's computer monitor. Aside from that, there was a bed, a desk, and a bathroom with a shower.

Home was the guildhall on Milky Dawn, not here. The message was clear for everyone.

The Sovereign Melody was not so much an overly large puppy as she was an attack hound, a wolf for Valm to use against his enemies. All of the ship's setup was built for that singular will. There was little time for commodity.

But there was enough of it, as Kathen cast off the orange prison uniform and stepped into the bathroom. He took a nice, long, hot shower, feeling as though he was sloughing off the rigors of the past few days with each brush of lathered soap, dirt and grime and dried blood funneling into the drain, to be filtered by the ship's water system and expelled into open space.

There was an extra change of clothes. He pulled them on, feeling the warm fleece cover him like a blanket as he sat down on the bed. With showering came relaxation, at last a chance for his bones to begin aching and his muscles to un-tense. There was a knot in his stomach, one that had been there ever since the bar fight, and now that he was somewhere safe he could feel it unravel, leaving a sore spot behind.

“Yeah,” a voice said, “It could have been worse than an upset tummy.”

“Merry,” Kathen said, “Reading my surface thoughts again?”

The air over the computer's desk fluctuated as Merry Curiosity surged into being. Green, taking the form of a praying mantis that hovered a few inches over the table, she glanced over at Kathen with holographic eyes. It was a new form for her, one which she had been experimenting with for the last few weeks.

“Really, Kathen,” she said, “I'm surprised you didn't come out looking worse. That guy at the bar was twice your size.”

“And fell twice as hard,” Kathen replied, “Really, it's not that hard. You just got to learn where to knock.”

He gave her a smirking glare.

“Could have used your help, when the militia came,” he said, “I was almost sorted into some prison world or other.”

“I would have found you,” Merry said. She pounced from the table, leaping towards the bed, melding mid-air into a new form, a butterfly that flitted through the air for a few moments, before lighting onto Kathen's shoulder, “Really, I would just have to go through a couple of records-”

“Hack a couple of records, you mean,” Kathen said.

“Look through,” Merry said, “Would you want me to save you, or not?”

Kathen let out a light laugh at that.

“I've been learning from Truthspeaker, you know,” Merry said, “I could do it. It wouldn't even take me that long.”

“A few years, maybe,” Kathen said.

“It's either five years while I go through everything, or a hundred before your trial,” Merry said, “Pick your poison, pal.”

“I'll pick the five, ma'am,” Kathen said, “But seriously, you couldn't have even warned Valm?”

“I was!” Merry said, “Do you realize how long it takes me to send myself to another planet? Across the galaxy?”

“...It could've been a holonet message.”

There was a moment of silence. Merry had not realized this.

“You know,” Kathen continued, “For an all-knowing AI, you really don't think these parts through.”

“Y-Yeah,” Merry said, “Well, you could have, should have-”

She let out a huff.

“Sorry,” she growled.

She fluttered off of his shoulder, melding into a form that Kathen was more familiar with, the standard Delluran Avatar that she had taken on when she had first signed on with the guild. Humanoid, with four thin, whispery arms, though the lilac skin of her creators was painted over by the green of her holographic light. The long hair emanated out as she lay down on Kathen's pillow.

“Well, that's one dipshit who’ll think twice before he goes flaunting around,” she said, “You really broke his legs?”

“Well, yeah,” Kathen said, “As I said, if they're taller than you, you gotta knock them down to your size. It was pretty easy after that.”

Merry chuckled at that.

“I missed you, Kate,” she said, “I'm glad you're back.”

“Glad to be back,” Kathen said. He moved back, shimmying so that he could rest his back on the wall, feeling a wave of relief thunder through his body, “Work like that is nice, but it's definitely rough.”

“Doesn't help that the beds they provided weren't comfortable,” Merry said.

“I bet they are, when you're not locked up,” Kathen chuckled, “Hope I didn't freak anyone out?”

“Nah,” Merry said, “They started placing bets on whether we'd ever find you again. Bluebell suggested putting up lost pet posters.”

“Is that all I am to him?” Kathen said, “A lost puppy?”

“You've got the energy,” Merry offered, “There's a look in your eye, like you're lost in a market.”

“I...” Kathen blinked, “I don't know if I believe you.”

“It's there! Look!”

She hopped up, alighting into a butterfly once more, one that began fluttering to Kathen's face, before expanding in size into a viewscreen. Kathen saw his own face mirrored on the other side.

“It's your eyes,” Merry said, “See how big and gooey they look?”

Kathen merely smiled, giving a sigh and shrug.

And then, with one hand, he flicked at the hologram. Merry Curiosity lost her entire composure, scattering into a thousand green dots that flung out like a stale cough, before reforming back into her Delluran Avatar form, all eight eyes glaring at him. Kathen leaned back, closing his eyes, that same satisfied grin still on his face.

“Anyways,” Merry said, “Valm's talking to Rhunea and Oli now. He's saying that he's glad you're back.”

“Merry,” Kathen warned, “We've talked about this. Don't eavesdrop.”

“I know, I know,” Merry said, “But he's saying you're going to InterGuild along with his retinue.”

Kathen's eyes shot open at that.

“Oh?” he said, “InterGuild?”

“Yeah,” Merry said, “Said that you were in the running to accompany the team there-”

“Yeah, I knew that,” Kathen said.

“I know,” Merry said, “Anyways, he said he was impressed with your mission on Galvorin III, bar fight notwithstanding.”

“Me,” Kathen said, and he found himself sitting in disbelief.

“Oh, one more thing,” Merry wore a smirk, “He says he'll tell you in the morning, once you've gotten some rest.”

Kathen let out a low chuckle, one that grew into a full laugh. Merry drew back a bit to give him some space.

“You're thinking of Antular, aren't you?” she said.

“I am,” Kathen said, “First thing we do when we get back to Milky Dawn, we're talking to him.”

***

It took the Sovereign Melody three days to reach Milky Dawn, tracing a passage through the Warp from the Outer Reach to the Post-Colonial. Valm delivered the news about Kathen's selection as part of the delegation going to InterGuild as they ate breakfast together.

“It's a small group,” he had said, “Oliander’s going, as is Almogra on my behalf. Bluebell, as well, since he expressed wanting to meet with a colleague from Scenia. That leaves you as my fourth choice.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kathen had said, “I won't let you down.”

“I know you won't,” Valm said, “But see to it that you don't, nonetheless.”

Excitement grew, like a leech, on Kathen as the ship drew closer and closer to Milky Dawn. He had a habit, seeded when he was young and had just joined the guild as a junior associate, of running to the bridge and powering on a small observation panel as the Sovereign Melody dropped out of warp. Squinting at the small viewscreen as his adopted homeworld came into view.

Milky Dawn. An apt name, because it was almost always covered in a dense, creamy layer of clouds. Landmasses could be seen far below, five continents, the southern two mossed over with forests, the largest one with a desert that spanned half of its surface, the northernmost landmass caked with ice. It was as pristine as one could get in the Post-Colonial, not choked by factories or recovering from the countless glassings the Federation had performed in this part of the Silver Eye.

No, Milky Dawn was sparsely populated by Pagan Chorus, who mostly stuck to their guildhall on the northernmost continent. A few small towns dotted nearby, farms where food was grown for the guild's benefit, as well as a shipyard up north. A couple of small outposts were stationed on the other continents, staffed by one or two of Valm's soldiers.

But besides that, Milky Dawn was a quiet place, home to nature and her ecosystems and little else. No sapient life save for what had been brought by the stars. Untarnished by wars. A paradise.

Kathen's homeworld, and he was proud to admit it. His heart swelled just seeing that gray little ball on the viewscreen.

A few hours later, and they were breaching the atmosphere, making their way down to Mausoleum. The old cathedral stood, both comforting and foreboding in the way old buildings were, with its myriad towers standing tall and sharp and scraping the sky. Mausoleum was alive, growing and shifting and changing as the years wore on, expanding its rooms to account for new guildmembers, moving hallways and stairs for those looking to make their travel through the guildhall quickly. Other times, the walls would close in, trapping would-be invaders and sending them through a maze with no exit. Mausoleum had been planted on a cliff that overlooked the sea.

The ocean today was black, marbled waves crashing against the cliff-side below, a natural orchestra that filled Kathen's memories and were the first thing that came to mind when he thought of the guildhall.

The Little Geezer landed just outside Mausoleum's entrance. Kathen, Rhunea, and Oliander stepped out. Already the Sovereign Melody had gone back into the cold expanse of space, shooting off towards Everlasting Truth.

It was mid-morning. The deep, horn-like bellows of kwyzir echoed down below. They were crawling on the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff, claws hooked into stone as their long beaks searched around for shellsquid and barnacles. Edercaws sang through the air, their harsh, reptilian screeches snarling in open air as they wheeled about, looking for food in the seas down below.

“Kathen.”

He turned, a smile on his face, salty, cold wind blowing through his hair. Rhunea was facing him, Oliander already lumbering over to the guildhall.

“Breakfast is probably laid out,” Rhunea continued, “Come inside when you get a chance, alright?”

“Aye,” Kathen said, “I'm going to see Antular. Don't wait for me, alright?”

“Make sure to eat something today, at least,” Rhunea said, “That's an order.”

“Fiiine,” Kathen said, “I will. Promise.”

“An order, Mr. Aru,” Rhunea said. She returned his smile, before she turned and began walking towards Mausoleum.

“Put it in as a reminder, Merry,” Kathen said, turning to walk along the cliff's edge, “I need to eat something. And send a reminder to Runie, too. Send her a hundred.”

“Will do,” the AI's voice rang in his head, courtesy of an implant in his brain he had gotten as a birthday gift long ago. He could almost feel Merry's coding away as she put the reminders into place, a sort of phantom vibration in the back of his mind.

He walked along the cliff's edge, dew and mud and grass caking his boots with each step.

“Scanners indicate a light rain later today,” Merry said, “He might be inside. You know, for that leg of his.”

“Nah,” Kathen said, “When has he ever not taken a morning walk? That leg'll slow him down, make it easier for us to catch up to him.”

He broke into a brisk jog, his lungs filling with the icy air, a familiar exhilaration that did nothing but spurn him onward. Merry peppered updates in his ear as he ran, news on the weather, on recent missions, who was in the guildhall and who was offworld, and what the meal plan was for the next week.

“Well, tomorrow’s going to be a sunnier day, so that’s good. That hurricane down south is breaking down into a storm, should be washing over us in about a week.”

“Neat,” Kathen said.

“Oh! Machi came back from her mission to Teleros. Maybe you could find her, we could get that rifle she borrowed from you back.”

“Probably a good idea,” Kathen said, “Valm gave me that gun, remember?”

“I do,” Merry noted, “Ah… Shipments from Irdinia. Which means Kyn will be eating well, I would think. Isn't around half the guild allergic to Irdinian red pepper? You too, right?”

“Merry, do me a solid and shut it for a sec.”

“Why?” Merry said, “What, you mad that you're allergic? Well, I'll have you know there are supplements that-”

“Eyes forward, dumbass,” Kathen said.

Merry complied, concentrating through the implant to see through Kathen's eyes. There was Antular, the old man sitting on a particularly well-worn outcropping of stone. He was a Impellian, an ancient race, one whose lifespan was tracked in centuries and who had been among the first to leave their homeworld for the stars. He was feathered, though age had stolen their luster and glow and molted them gray. A long, thick neck ended in a bare head and a short, toothed beak. His tail billowed behind him, and had always reminded Kathen of a feather duster, the way it was splayed and mottled. Between his overly-long claws, Antular held a walking stick, knobby and ugly-looking, long enough to reach from his head to the ground. He held it between two blade-like claws now, a serene expression on his face as he looked out towards the sea.

Kathen approached, sitting down beside the old reptile. Merry leaped out, realizing herself into being as her Delluran Avatar, standing on his shoulder like a four-armed fairy.

Together, the three watched the sea. Its waves. The churning of black and white, the mixing of brine and cold.

“So you're back,” Antular said, and Kathen's heart sank. Once, he remembered his old friend's voice being hale and hearty, despite his great age. Now, it was weak. Whistling. As though his voice box had simply given up and called it a day.

“I am,” Kathen said, “Nothing crazy. Just a couple days in a cell, almost got shipped out to a prison world.”

“You know,” Merry said, “The usual.”

Antular turned with the speed of a continent, creaking down to look at Kathen. His yellowing eyes moved to the AI dancing on his shoulder.

“Ah!” he said, “Merry Curiosity. Good morning, my friend. I did not see you there.”

“All good,” Merry lied, “How's the weather up there, old man?”

“Fine, actually,” Antular said, and a dopey smile drew up his face. Kathen snorted at the Impellian's sarcasm.

Those ancient eyes slid back to Kathen.

“I spent thirty years on a prison world, I'll have you know,” he said, “I wouldn't recommend it. They keep you there for as long as they can, and not even a trial on Everlasting Truth can save you.”

His tower-like neck rose back up.

“They're meant to keep you there, lad, so don't you ever get mixed up in anything illicit. Keep your beak clean.”

“Kate doesn't have a beak,” Merry said.

“Your nose, then,” Antular said, “Goodness, you humans and your lack of beaks. What has the galaxy come to?”

He let out a low, huffing chuckle at that. Kathen simply rolled his eyes, turning to lean against Antular's rock. He could feel the old man's breathing, deep and scarred, through the rock.

“I've got some good news, Antular,” he said.

“Take it from an elder, lad, there is no such thing as good news.”

“I'm going to InterGuild.”

“Why, that is good news!”

“I've been doing my research,” Kathen said, “It's being held in the Flyleaf Forest. Big library plane, just as large as any library world here in the galaxy.”

“I'm sure there's quite a bit of reading to do there,” Antular said.

“There's a specific one I'm looking for, though,” Kathen said, “It's called the Dyriptium of Karn, talks about a region of the multiverse called the Frauds-Echten Squall.”

“Ah, a rare set of planes, then,” Antular said, “I've heard of the place. Done a bit of research on it.”

“One of the planes there,” Kathen said, “It's known for its medicinal herbs and plants. Seems to be made out of them, if you can believe it.”

“I didn't take you for a doctor, lad,” Antular said.

“I'm going to find a plant for your heart,” Kathen said.

The old man froze. Kathen looked up to see that Antular had gone rigid, his great, glassy eyes staring out towards the sea. He was frowning. The only sound came from the waves below and the edercaw's calls.

“You...” Antular's voice trembled, “You don't have to do that, lad.”

“I do, though,” Kathen said.

“You should be thinking of your own career, when you go to InterGuild,” Antular said, “Contacts you can make out in the multiverse. People you can meet. New comrades. Allies. Future prospects for joining the guild.”

“I could do that,” Kathen said, “Or I could be helping you.”

“I don't deserve it,” Antular said, and he turned to Kathen, “I am an old man, and old men have the weight of the world on their shoulders. I've done too much to deserve something like this.”

“And I don't care,” Kathen said, “You're sick. You're... I don't want you to be like this, alright? Not if I can find some way to... to... to stop it.”

His jaw was set. Antular stared at the young man for a long time. Merry, feeling awkward, had disassembled, flitting back into Kathen's implant. The wind blew, rippling Antular's feathers, ashen waves upon his scaled form.

“Lad,” Antular said, “What's happening to me, it's just life.”

“I... I know that,” Kathen said.

Memories played in Kathen's head. Of his first days in the guild. Of being a child, laughter shrieking through the guildhall as he ran, Antular swaggering after him, scooping him up in those great claws and carrying him as though he was nothing but a sack of air. He had been old, even then.

But nothing like this.

“We all have to go down the river at some point,” Antular said, “All of us. No matter how mighty you are, no matter how powerful, at the end of the day, there's an end of the day.”

“I know,” Kathen repeated, though his voice was strained.

“Don't think of me when you get to InterGuild, lad,” Antular said, “You've got the future ahead of you, and the chance to really shine. Brighter than any star, Kathen. You shouldn't let an old mop like me keep you down.”

“I know,” Kathen said, “But I don't care.”

Antular sighed, and a small, grateful smile crept onto his face.

“There's no stopping you, is there?” he said.

“I've lied to you before, old man,” Kathen said, “And I'd do it again. Especially for something like this.”

“...Very well,” Antular said, “Refuse the future, then.”

“I think I will,” Kathen said, “Anything for a friend.”

***

Old Scar was the chief security officer for Pagan Chorus. A military term, for a military man. He was well named, for he was in his fifties, ancient for a human, with a patchwork quilt of scars that ran from his back to his face, dried pink lacework on sun-tanned skin. Some of them were ritualistic, from the brutal homeworld he had come from, somewhere in the Outer Reach. Others were from combat.

Most of them were from combat.

He kept his hair down, revealing a bald, lumpy head. Old Scar was a full foot shorter than Kathen, but he was far broader than the younger man, corded with muscle, veins bulging out of arms, his hands welted over from a lifetime of holding plasma rifles and rayswords. He glared up at Kathen as he entered the training room. It was a simple stone box, with training dummies in each corner and a single mat in the center. Two windows were on the eastern wall, placed nearly up to the ceiling, cool air from outside drifting in, the barest hint of clouded sky shining through.

“You have your weapon?” Old Scar asked.

Kathen nodded. He unlooped the raysword from his belt, clicking it on. A clear, glass-like blade protruded from the metal handle, leaf-shaped and broad. A bit shorter than most other blades, it was more designed as a ceremonial tool. But he used it all the same, for it was a gift from Valm. Old Scar's gray eyes darted to the sword, then back to Kathen. His frown deepened.

“You're late,” he said.

“Sorry,” Kathen said.

“No time for warm-ups, then,” Old Scar drew close, drawing his own blade. Kathen's jaw set as the two began circling one another. Due to his height, his reach was greater than the old man's. They both knew this, as Old Scar deliberately began trying to close the distance, hunkering down like a leopard, his eyes hardened and set.

Under usual circumstances, Kathen would be the first to attack.

But he decided against that.

He noted a slight step in Old Scar's gait, overly wide. A feint, perhaps, a trap to invite Kathen's opening strike. Their usual dance would then play out, as it always had, a series of slashes and grunts, of the scream of ray-shields singing against one another.

But Kathen did not take the bait. Not this time. Old Scar's frown flickered for a moment.

And then, faster than anything Kathen had ever seen, he struck. Kathen leaped back, bringing his blade up to block the first strike, the second, a third. All in rapid succession, as Old Scar pressed his offensive. He was like an anchored whirlwind, his legs sure and steady, only moving when he was repositioning himself, his arms flying every which way, pure power behind each and every strike. His was not a duelist's style, with its tricks and its ripostes. He wielded his blade as though it were a club, trying to smack Kathen's sword out of his hands.

There was a moment of this, of the offensive Kathen could not hope to counteract, and then it was over. Old Scar's blade sailed sideways, the flat of the rayshield crashing against the back of Kathen's hand. He let out a grunt of pain, his raysword clattering to the ground as Old Scar's fist shot out, delivering a shot into Kathen's stomach. He fell, twisting ‘round the bruise.

Old Scar was already walking back to his original position.

“You're late,” he said.

“I said,” Kathen coughed, “I was sorry.”

“You're not taking this seriously,” Old Scar said.

“I am now,” Kathen said. He stumbled up his feet, forcing down the dull pain.

“You gave up the advantage,” Old Scar said, “You had the opportunity to attack, but you didn't.”

“I could see the trap,” Kathen said.

“But you weren't ready for my attack,” Old Scar said, “You were ready to pounce. To take the initiative. But when you could, you didn't. Again.”

And they were circling each other once more, trying to find a chink in the other's stance. Kathen made the first strike, a low shot that took advantage of his greater reach. Old Scar ducked the shot, surging forward, wrapping his arms around Kathen and pushing him back. Kathen stumbled, grimacing as Old Scar's blade snaked out, battering Kathen's aside once more.

Another shot to the stomach, a final message from the old man that the spat was over. Kathen wheezed to the ground. Old Scar simply walked back to the center of the room.

“Mausoleum,” he barked, “Table.”

The guildhall shuddered, and a stone table rose from the floor. Old Scar unlooped his canteen, resting a hand on the table as he took a long drink. When he finished, he glared at Kathen's crumpled form.

“So how'd you fuck up that time?” he asked.

“You didn't tell me it was that kind of combat practice,” Kathen said, “I thought we were just using swords.”

“Bullshit,” Old Scar said, “I'm not teaching you to prance and duel like some nobleman's son. I'm teaching you how to kill, and how to do it well. No matter where you are, no matter what you have. This is combat practice, Aru. Again.”

Kathen roared, rushing forward, blade surging to life as he tackled Old Scar. Who was ready for the shot. Who, Kathen realized, had been positioning himself to catch the charge, a hand closing over Kathen's wrist and squeezing to try and force the blade away. Kathen rose up, using his superior height to wind back his head. He slammed it into Old Scar's, feeling stars dance for a moment as the security officer let out a gasp of surprise, releasing Kathen and stumbling against the table.

Kathen kept up the attack, blade flashing, swinging at Old Scar, who grunted as he parried each shot, back against the table.

There.

Kathen swept, wrapping a leg against Old Scar's, hand snaking out between the singing blades and slamming into Old Scar's chest, causing the old man to lose his footing, cracking his back into the table's edge.

Old Scar coughed as he collapsed to the ground. Kathen brought his sword to the man's throat.

The two froze, twin hearts hammering. Old Scar glared up at the young man. Then he gave a nod.

“Better,” he said, “You took the initiative.”

“Caught you off-guard.”

“That's how it works,” Old Scar said.

Kathen extended a hand, one which Old Scar took as he pulled himself to his feet. He clicked his raysword off, re-strapping it to his side as he took another drink of the canteen.

He made sure to put the table between them.

“You have to be ready for anything, Aru,” Old Scar said, “There isn't anything formal about combat.”

“I knew that,” Kathen said, “You're treating me like I'm some sort of pup.”

“Because you're acting like one,” Old Scar said, “You were late.”

“I was talking with Antular,” Kathen said.

“Antular,” Old Scar spat, “As if that's any excuse. You had a commitment to this. First thing you should have done when you got planetside, you should have gone straight to me.”

“I know,” Kathen said, “But I don't care.”

That earned him a truly icy glare from Old Scar. The veteran chewed on the side of his mouth for a second as he digested those words, then he dug out his old combat knife, flipping it in his hands absently.

“Here's the thing, Aru,” he said, “You and me, we're all alone in this sort of job. We don't have any special abilities. No powers. No magic. We're baseline, and human baselines at that.”

“I think I handle myself alright out there,” Kathen said.

“Bah,” Kathen said, “We're in guildwork, son. No such thing as alright. We're here to help keep order in the galaxy. Face off against pirates, or rogue metahumans. Beings with powers and abilities that far outstrip ours. So people like us, we can't afford to slip up, or rest on our laurels. We have to be at our best, our most ruthless, our most tenacious, at all times. If you slip even once, you're finished. That's it. The galaxy's a dangerous place, the multiverse even more so.”

With a hand, he whipped the knife downwards, burying its point into the stone table. It flickered in place, back and forth like a pendulum.

“And with everything going on, things are just going to get worse.”

“Worse?”

“You've heard of the uptick in pirate raids,” he said, “The riots in the Inner Reach. The deadlocks. The corrupt politicians bankrolling their own PMCs. Things are starting to fall apart.”

He wrenched the knife free.

“And when that time comes, when everything changes and all that's left is you and yours, you have to be ready. That's what I'm training you for, Aru. That's what Valm wants to drill into your head. Because it's going to be a lot worse before it gets better.”

Kathen was quiet, thinking on Old Scar's words. The veteran still held his knife as he walked away from the table, pulling out his raysword once more.

“You were late,” Old Scar said, “Start caring about what's outside your window.. Because we're reaching a point where it's going to matter.”

He lowered into a stance.

“Again.”

***

He spent his dinner with Valm, as was standard.

Of course, Valm was currently aboard the Sovereign Melody, heading to Everlasting Truth. But when these situations arose where mentor and mentee were on different worlds, he called in via video, and the two of them shared their meal, making conversation.

Light-years away, yet it felt like the Prime Voice was right in front of him. Kathen had chosen to eat his meal in his room today, his entire body aching from bruises and cuts he had sustained with his sparring with Old Scar. He sat at his desk, three monitors arrayed in front of him, one with Valm's video, the other two reading out news from across the galaxy. He could see Merry dancing from screen to screen, at times a butterfly, at others a mantis, others as a Delluran Avatar.

“It's a controversial bill,” Valm was saying, “It's certainly not every day that the senate sees something like this actually make it to the floor.”

“But it will pass, you think?” Kathen asked.

“I'll need to twist a few arms in the Birdwatcher's Party,” Valm said, “But that shouldn't be too difficult. A dinner here, a gift there. Nothing major. Archkhan Emret's daughter is having her Third Fletching in a few weeks. I might help him with the funds for that, maybe provide one of my family's vacation worlds as a host.”

“Ever the businessman,” Kathen said, “One of your precious paradises? This must mean a lot to you.”

“The creation of a taskforce to curb the illegal selling of educational materials and findings,” Valm mused, “The practice has been going on for thousands of years. I mean to squash it, or at least make it far too expensive to be practical. Education should belong to those with the will and the funds to obtain it.”

“And you think that will help with the education problem?” Kathen said, “I've heard a lot of people rely on those sales to help their own schooling, especially in the Outer Reach.”

“It's a multi-pronged problem,” Valm said, “A status quo based on criminality, which has always been unacceptable. It will require a transition, one that I'm preparing the Federation for. After this bill passes, I'm hoping to force through a series of scholarships and opportunities to those without the funds for a proper education, perhaps through volunteer work or military service. It will take time. Perhaps decades, by my calculations. But we'll be in a better spot than where we are now.”

The Prime Voice cut into his food, a rare mollusk from one of his fishing worlds. He put a bite into his mouth, chewing slowly.

“You really think that's right?” Kathen said, “I mean, what about the people in the interim?”

“Those already relying on this… trade?” Valm said, “They should never have bought stolen goods in the first place.”

“Maybe they don't have a choice,” Kathen said.

“Ah, Mr. Aru,” Valm said, “There is always a choice. We all have to start from somewhere, but we shouldn't rely on skirting the law to build ourselves up.”

“It still feels...” Kathen shook his head, “I don't know. Wrong.”

Valm took a moment to answer, putting another bite of food in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“It is wrong,” he said, at length, “Everything about the system is wrong. Making it right is a painful, long process. We're up against thousands of years of deadlock, here. It's a wonder there's been much of a headway at all.”

“But you've got to do something,” Kathen said, “A taskforce will be good, but you've got to make people aware of the change. Introduce alternatives now, as opposed to later.”

The Prime Voice stopped eating his food, giving Kathen a look through the computer monitor. There was a way that Valm hid his emotions, his judgments, his thoughts, a mask that he wore when he was considering another opinion. Veil-like, as though he were a statue. His face slackened, his large eyes drifting away to stare into nothingness.

Then, he gave a nod.

“I will need to look into that,” Valm said, “The last thing we should do is cause undue suffering. Thank you, Mr. Aru. If you have any suggestions...”

“I'll let you know,” Kathen said, “But I'm not very good at thinking of those.”

“Quite on the contrary,” Valm said, “I've come to respect your opinion, when it comes to the common individual. It was your idea to go to Galvorin III, wasn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you heard of the food shortage they had been experiencing.”

“It was a bad harvest,” Kathen said, “No one should have to go hungry. No one should have their work taken by others.”

“There were quite a few people within the guild that were concerned you went out there, all on your own,” Valm said, “Old Scar included.”

“I know,” Kathen said, “But I don't care.”

Valm smirked.

“Precisely what I like about you, Kathen,” he said, “You see something wrong, you don't hesitate to try and change it.”

“Th-Thank you, sir.”

“How is Old Scar, anyways?” Valm said, “I haven't had a chance to sit down with him for a few weeks.”

“As surly as ever,” Kathen said, “He's going on about everything breaking down again.”

“Of course he would be,” Valm said, “I can't blame him. Things are getting a bit... intense.”

“So you're thinking it, too,” Kathen said.

“Yes,” Valm said, “But I have something that Old Scar doesn't have.”

“And what's that, sir?”

“The benefit of a long life,” Valm said. He put down his fork and knife once more, “I am five hundred years old, Mr. Aru. I have seen hard times. I have seen good times, and everything in between. Things are bad now, but they will get better.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I'm the Prime Voice,” Valm said, “I've led our galaxy through countless wars, including the Manticore's. I've seen economic downturn. This isn't my first time dealing with the re-emergence of rebellions and labor strikes. You'll see, Mr. Aru. Things might be bad now.”

He took a sip of wine, from his own personal stock, from his own gardens.

“But they'll get better,” he finished, “You'll see.”

There was something in his eyes, a glimmer that was not there before. As though he knew something Kathen did not.

“You'll see.”