Vivian watched the equipment vendor, a heavyset man with three chins and fading hair, as he disappeared into the spaceport crowd. He’d just finished setting things for the final goods to be loaded onto the Cudgel.

Maven sat in front of the terminal aboard the warship Eisle, stunned by the report she was receiving and trying hard not to laugh. “They did what?”

Jayson heard the train before he saw it. It started as a rumbling, just enough to shake the ground.

“You’re sure?” “That’s the sixth time you asked me that question, Jim. Do I need to draw you a picture?”

“What’s he doing?” Yeol whispered, tilting his head to the side with a frown. His eyes were locked on the spectacle in front of him. His face was a mask of awe tinged with fear as he watched the robed figures move about the courtyard.

Hey, so this is something people have been requesting for a while, and I was finally able to make it work!

Jayson awoke to agony. He groaned and clenched his eyes, willing himself back to unconsciousness. It did no good. His body ached, but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his head. It felt like someone had grabbed his skull on both sides and tried ripping it in half.

Vivian paced impatiently in the modest hotel room, waiting for Bartholomew to arrive. She was impatient. Evelyn’s Grace was up in orbit above, and no matter how confident she acted in front of Wade, she understood what it meant.

Maven Ophidian stood on the bridge of the newly renamed Crusader Class Warship Eisle, formerly Evelyn’s Grace. She’d picked the name that morning, hating the name ‘Evelyn.’