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Firestorm Squad lined the quarter deck, clad in full battle armour, each dragon standing rigid, each one hyper alert. Snowstorm Squad, under the direction of Lieutenant Parker, were milling around the ship in black navy uniforms as opposed to their regular Legionnaire uniforms, blending in to better keep an eye on things without sticking out like a sore thumb. Sonja stood at Trillian's right shoulder, towering over him, her helmet tucked neatly under an arm, her broad wings held tight against her back in a formal posture. Her gaze was was almost burning a hole in the inner airlock's door as she waited for the chamber to stop cycling, the tip of her tail twitching in agitation. She liked the idea of inviting more strangers aboard the Ranger about as much as Trillian did, but there was a hot spring waiting for her somewhere down on Firmament's planetoid, so she kept her mouth shut and her irritation to herself.

Finally, after what seemed like an age of waiting for the airlock to cycle, the telltales went green and there was a hiss of vapour as the inner door slowly rolled open to reveal a very large husky with a prosthetic eye, left arm, and metal tail. Standing alongside him was another winged wolf, her hair tucked back in a neat braid, her eyes wide as she finally got to see the interior of the ship they had been pursuing. She seemed a little put off by its appearance. Of course, stripped-out, utilitarianism wasn't in Thymion's vocabulary, so seeing a tin can riddled with pipes and conduits up close was most likely a bit of a shock. Beside Trillian, Sonja let out a low growl and a few curses in Nymexian. There were several others in the airlock with them, peeking around the two like children trying to see what was going on.

Trillian groaned inwardly and a disapproving frown creased his brow as he looked them over, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, his lips parting slightly in a snarl.

''The arrangement was two of you and no more, Captain.'' He said flatly and with emphasis. Behind him, the Legionnaires shifted slightly.

Standing behind the husky and wolf was a lithe vixen with slit pupiled eyes who was staring at Trillian with open dislike, her nostrils flared. Another, shorter and plumper vixen peered over her shoulder, her sabres and horns gleaming tantalizingly in the airlock's overheads. To the husky's left was a german shepherd that carried the same aura about him as the slimmer of the two vixens. Trillian eyed them up. Vampires... Shit. Just what I need. Trillian thought sourly as dark memories started to bubble to the surface of his mind, provoked by their presence. His neck started itching painfully and he resisted the urge to scratch at an age old wound; two rough dimples of scar tissue that he had acquired after a late night brawl with one of his old academy mates that had fallen foul of one those creatures.

And finally, standing in front of the shepherd, at the husky's other elbow, was a black and white cat, the white fur spiraling in whorls like flame across the black. He looked at Trillian. His gaze seemed fixed on a point somewhere behind Trillian's head as opposed to actually on the tiger himself. There were tattoos on the other cat's hands, runic depictions of the basic elements; earth, wind, fire and water. Alchemist, shaman or warlock? He mused. But when the feline looked at Trillian, the tiger felt the weight of that gaze. This was no normal cat. He wasn't even Thymion. He was something else entirely. Those eyes were ancient, alien, and very sharp. When he moved, it was with purpose, and while lithe and small, his muscles bunched and coiled like braids of metal as he shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

Trillian paused, rallying his thoughts and cramming his anger down into a deep place where it could be exorcised later. He would vent it in a sparring chamber with someone who wouldn't mind giving as good as they got. Maybe one of the Tuvenese combat drones if he made it that far. But for now, he had a towering behemoth that stood almost 8ft tall before him. The husky was built like a brick house, and his cybernetics were on display.

''Billy, I presume?'' Trillian remarked.

Billy saluted crisply, clicking the heels of his digitigrade boots. Trillian returned it and then pointed out the arangement in a tone that brooked no argument. The husky had the good grace - and sense - to look sheepish about it.

''Angelica spoke to them, too. Afterwards, it was difficult to keep them from following me. I can't exactly control them as well as Angelica can... at this time we all seem disoriented. I can't explain why, but it feels like we forgot something important.''

''Regardless of your relation to Her Grace, you will stick to the agreement or get off my ship. Too much has happened, not just this month, but in the last few years, that has put my crew at risk and I will not tolerate any more. And regardless of what influence Her Grace was under at the time, she is still a guest aboard my ship and I will not put her health at further risk, no matter who you are. Is that clear?'' Trillian stated flatly, a borderline feral gleam in his amber eyes as his anger mounted. He connected his wetware to the airlock's systems, ready to order the inner door to slam shut and the docking collar to be blown free. He would not be bullied by Thymion again.

''We have a right to see her, too!'' The lithe vixen piped up hotly.

"Mom... no..." the plump vixen said urgently in a harsh whisper.

Trillian turned a glacial gaze on the vampire and stared her down then looked back to Billy when she glanced away moodily, ''What say you? Do you want to see her now or not?''

A moment of irritation flickered across Billy's expression before amusement set in. The vampire's protests had been silenced with a glare and an unspoken challenge. It was the first time someone had done such a thing and come out on top. Billy cast a glance over his shoulder to look at the brooding vixen. She was staring hard at Sonja, her expression hostile. He looked to the tall, muscular dragoness. Clad in her battle armour, she looked even bigger, like a two-legged battle tank made of flesh and bone. She was staring ahead, a bland, uninterested expression her face, but her posture spoke of a waiting violence and the glow deep in her eyes spoke of unspeakable power.

Her gaze slowly met the feline's eyes. Trillian could see a silent battle happening between them. A battle not of strength and power, but of the will and wit. And then Sonja looked away, not in defeat. But for a millisecond Trillian thought he saw her grin, the same grin she displayed before killing an enemy. The feline returned his gaze to the spot it was in before, his expression a little disturbed. Billy cleared his throat uncomfortably. He had seen the exchange as well. He looked to Trillian, taking a moment to really study him and decided that here stood a man that was best off not being provoked. Billy figured the tiger didn't need 14 heavily armoured dragons to cause damage for him. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself judging by the golden shine deep in his amber eyes and the hint of needle sharp, silvered teeth whenever he opened his mouth to speak.

Billy turned back to the others and a heated discussion broke out. It was cut short as their own comms summoned them back to the ship to prevent combat over visitation. They finally relented and stepped back out into the boarding tube. The outer airlock door sealed up behind them, leaving him and Rosemary standing alone in the airlock chamber. The last to leave had been the lithe vixen, with a death glare at the dragoness.

''I apologise, Captain Spears. Things have been a little... odd since we dropped back into realspace. Like a fog cleared out of our ship.'' He sucked down a breath, straightened up again and asked, ''Permission to come aboard, Captain?''

''Granted.'' Trillian said, a small kernel of relief blooming in his chest. Billy had pushed his luck once, most likely to test the water and he didn't seem to be intent on doing it again.Regardless, Trillian kept contact with the airlock, just in case one of the others tried sneaking aboard. There nothing quite like sudden, violent decompression to change someone's mind.

''You both have twenty-four hours, Standard, before you need to leave. We have a schedule to keep and need to be at Firmament by tomorrow evening.'' He looked at Rosemary, sizing her up. Whatever hostilities she had, she kept them well hidden.

''Ah, I apologise again. This is Rosemary. She's the only one outside of immediate family that Angelica is close with. She's also head of security aboard the Hope.'' Billy said.

She curtseyed primly. The way the word close was spoken said a great deal; Rosemary and Angelica weren't just friends. Trillian nodded to Sonja, the great, red dragon seemingly noticing the two Thymions for the first time. Rosemary instinctively stepped back, her mouth forming a small O of fear as she looked up at the Legionnaire who was now silently studying her. Even Billy didn't seem too pleased to be noticed by Sonja.

It was a common occurrence, when people met her for the first time. But it passed soon and the pair seemed to calm down as they looked at each other, coming to some kind of silent conclusion.

''This is Major Shira, head of ship's security and also commanding officer of the ship's Legionnaire detachment.'' Trillian said and quietly waited for the inevitable reply from Sonja.

''Greetings. You will behave yourselves, I trust?'' She purred, a wash of warmth rolling from her tongue as she spoke. It was not an option. The question was presented in a way that told them they would behave or suffer the consequences.

''We have no intention of misbehaving, Major. We only want to see our sweet girl. Nothing more.'' Rosemary stammered, her eyes wide and a little glassy.

Sonja nodded in approval, turned to the rest of Firestorm Squad and barked sharply at them in a foreign tongue. They relaxed in unison, six of them leaving quietly when Trillian had led Billy and Rosemary away from the quarter deck.

"Please. Forgive Rose. She hasn't become accustomed to military standing, Major," The husky said with a gentle at ease type posture. Sonja nodded at him. Trillian watched Billy walk, seeing the traces of a once well disciplined soldier, a man used to walking in a line under fire. There was little that could hide that. But the cybernetics spoke of old wounds and with the open flight suit, Trillian could see the burns where fur wouldn't be growing back.

~~~~~~

The medibay was quiet. Third shift had taken over, the Ranger entering its nighttime phase. The only member of staff who worked First Shift was Jashen and he sat at the small front desk just inside the door. He stood up, greeted Billy and Rosemary, and then guided them through the cramped medibay to the far end. Tucked inside a separate room were 6 EHPs, three tanks to a wall, facing each other. Sitting in the corner was a being made of what appeared to be crude oil, his blank face swirling slowly with a rainbow of colours. He was in Legionnaire armour and he sat on a stool in the corner, staring blankly at one of the EHPs. It was the only one that was occupied, its control panel lit up with a series of telltales, the faint gurgling of an air pump the only thing to be heard.

Jashen walked up to it, pulled a datapad out of a pouch on his belt and started taking notes, updating the medical files. Only when the orc was satisfied with the readings did he turn to Corporal Marsh. Billy and Rosemary looked on as the two exchanged a flurry of words, their meaning indecipherable.

''She's barely lucid, but she's ready to accept visitors. Apparently, our own psychics have been keeping her amused with tall stories and historical anecdotes. You have twenty-four hours with her and no more. She has two more days until I'm willing to even consider letting her out of the EHP. Whatever that thing was that had her enthralled did a real number on her, mostly on a psychic level, so her thoughts are still misaligned to a degree. You'd do well to remember that. If she falls asleep, leave her be. If she wakes up, talk to her as much as possible. Conversation, jokes, even lessons help to rebuild the mind. And when I tell you to leave, you leave. Is that understood?'' The orc said.

Billy nodded, ''Yes, I understand. Thank you.''

''She's pregnant-'' Rosemary began.

Jashen cut her off, ''The kid's fine. No need to worry about that.'' He moved away, heading across the medibay and to his office. Rosemary visibly sagged as she relaxed. Knowing the child was fine did wonders for her stress.

Trillian murmured something to Sonja and to Marsh, and the two took up post outside the EHP area, a sound dampening barrier flickering to life across the wide, arched entrance that seperated the EHP area from the rest of the medibay.

''I'll be on the bridge if you need me.'' Trillian said.

''Aye, Captain.'' The two Legionnaires replied.

~~~~~~

Billy slowly approached the EHP, peering at the metal slat that was at head height. He gingerly reached out and slid it to one side. Inside, suspended within the murky blue liquid, a rebreather covering her nose and mouth, was Angelica. A quartet of small, silvery nodes were glued to her head in various areas, thin wires trailing from them. Her hair and feathers were matted from the viscous fluid, but she was resting, her expression serene. Behind him, Rosemary put her hand to her mouth in shock, a small, anguished whimper escaping her lips. Billy pressed his hand gently against the tank, the alloy it was constructed of smooth and shiny, cool to the touch as if he was touching something made of ice.

The EHP was a crude construction; a tall, fat silver-grey cylinder attached to curving rails. Thick, ribbed pipes ran into it at all angles and a small medical computer was bolted to a thin pole that protruded from the bulkhead wall, sticking out between EHPs. The tank, like the rest of the ship's interior, was an ugly thing, built with function in mind, not beauty. But it was keeping Angelica alive and it was helping her heal. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. But they kept coming, leaving dark trails in his cheek fur as a small voice slid gently into his mind, questing for acknowledgement and comfort. He mentally reached out to Angelica, giving her just that and he slid to the cold, hard floor, his knees giving way as grief and relief churned through him like a tidal wave.

Beside him, Rosemary sat down and together they shared the moment as the Ranger ticked and hummed around them, pressing them deeper into the Tuven Sector. On the bridge, Trillian watched the Hope's Blade as it turned over control to the Ranger's computer.

They had effectively surrendered.

~~~~~~

Billy lost track of how long he spoke to Angelica and how many times she fell silent. All he knew was that she was safe and alive. Rosemary remained there, sitting beside him, singing to her softly in a psychic way. The young woman was calm, quiet, and finally soothed as her family were close. Billy was only mildly psychic, able to sense presence and strong minds from those within a certain range. Rosemary was a vastly more powerful Thymion wolf, with 20,000 years of practice. But she restrained her mind. While others would notice her power, feel it if they were psychic, they would not feel it pressing on them.

In a lull as Angelica slept, Billy spoke to Rosemary. "Do you... do you think she remembers what we look like? What we sound like? What our scent is?"

Rose closed her eyes, smiling. "If she didn't, she wouldn't picture us in her mind. She knows us, loves us. She will never forget us. And she will never forsake us." She softly stroked Billy's ear as he leaned into her. They watched together, feeling the occasional caress of one of their crew as they answered questions about the Empress. Angelica's dreams were becoming coherent, and her skills were returning. She could dreamwalk again, crafting for herself a dream world that gave her happiness.

~~~~~~

Owen looked away from his sensors screen and glanced at the chrono. Shipboard time, it was 6AM. Local time, it was 11AM. The Ranger was already syncing with itself with the local MediaNet and traffic control nodes. Hopefully, the Hope's Blade was also syncing up to the system as ships that shunned the local MediaNets and time zones often found themselves at an increasing loss for what to do the deeper into the sector they went. It would, to Owen's mind, be the second sensible thing the Thymion ship had done that day.

He looked down at his communications screens. His inbox was quickly filling up with news bulletins, advertisements and spam mail alike. There was a few messages from Shadow Stalkers High Command, sent straight from Blackwell's primary ansible system. They were addressed to the captain of the ship, but Trillian was still asleep and the ferret was loathe to wake him up so soon. The tiger was in desperate need of some sleep, as they all were. If the captain fell apart, then so would everyone else. It had almost happened just a few days ago with the last mutiny attempt and Owen was damned if he was going to be thrust into the position of captain again any time soon. The captain of a ship was the kingpin that held everything else in check and firmly secure, a solid anchor for the crew. Third Watch would be over in two hours, so Owen set to the task of sifting through the packed inbox, eliminating the advertisements and spam, and leaving the news feeds and articles in place.

Not much was going on in the Tuven Sector, not since they had driven away the Sovvu pirates who had sought to take Firmament for themselves. The cost of victory against that fleet had been heavy, but Firmament was a major shipyard, dealing in both military and some specialist civillian vessels that other shipyards couldn't cope with. In the grand scope of things, the loss, whilst a heavy weight to bear, had not been in vain. Firmament's front line had been held and an invading force had lost its only opportunity to capture a tactically sound area of space.

Owen's gaze drifted from the Tuvenese news to another article, one about the current state of the Sterwil Federation. His brow knitted. A cold pit formed slowly in his stomach as he read. Had they emerged in Sterwil space like originally planned, they would be screwed by now. The Connarum Sector's military might had been vastly underestimated by Sterwil and the Federation's subterfuge had been violently thrown back in their faces.

The Connaru had recently won the first decisive battle of their renewed war with Sterwil, taking out their second largest automated deep space re-supply depot, mauling Sterwil's primary supply chain that allowed them to go deeper into space, away from their borders. Freighters, luxury star liners, passenger ships and military ships alike had all been cut off from a much needed rest stop.

Sterwil had pulled their victim card, retaliated swiftly and without remorse. A heavily populated agri-world on the fringes of the Connarum Sector had been wiped out, the fertile land sterilized. Owen kept reading, engrossed in the article. Naturally, a lot of it, if not all, was fluffed up for the sake of entertainment and fear mongering, but it was all there, the kernel of truth that propped up the journalist's words; The Connaru had targeted the re-supply depot as retalition, all right. During the tentative peace talks, Sterwil had apparently inserted some of their own into sensitive areas of Cannarum's manufacturing facilities. Shipyard production was delayed due to order errors, new colonies were given bad equipment and here and there, freighter convoys fell prey to mysterious enemies. It had been the Connarum people who had retaliated, not Sterwil, and because the truth was slowly coming out, bit by bit, the Federation was coming apart at the seams; entire star kingdoms, empires, allied star systems and loner worlds were jumping ship, some even siding with the Connarum Sector, others coming to Tuven, whilst the rest simply announced their borders off-limits to everyone until further notice.

Owen leaned back in his chair, his attention fixed to the screen as he soaked up as much of the NewsNet as possible. The more he read, the more he realised that the Connaru were most likely to come out on top. With how weak the Sterwil Federation had become in such a short amount of time, it would be amazing if Sterwil itself would ever be able to recover from the mess they had caused; hundreds of years old, the Federation had become bloated with its own power and sense of grandeur, slowly rotting from the inside, out. The economy in the entire galactic arm would suffer for years after the Federation's collapse, but, Owen remembered, economy collapses of such a grand scale had happened countless times before and each time, the wound had healed and people had kept their heads down and worked through it. To the working classes, the Galactic Council meant nothing; they were just another bump in the road to surviving another day.

This collapse would be no different than the last one or the one before it.

''What a shit show...'' Owen murmured to himself as he thought about it.

''Sorry, Sir?'' Ikan asked. He was an Allosaurus, still young and halfway through his Advanced Sensors training.

Owen waved him off, ''Just making an observation on the current Sterwil - Connarum war.''

''A real mess.'' Ikan commented idly, looking at his own screen. He, too, was reading the news, just like everyone else.

''How's the Hope's Blade? Still safely attached?'' Owen asked, closing the NewsNet and turning his attention back to the two ships.

''Docking clamps are still in place and the tube is secure. She's moving along at our pace, Sir, without any sign of mischief.'' Ikan replied automatically.

Owen checked his chrono. One hour until First Watch and therefore one hour left on the Hope's Blade's visitation rights.

''How're we doing, Mister Hartman?'' Trillian announced suddenly. He strode onto the bridge brimming with energy, his amber eyes containing the familiar gleam of a recently acquired stim shot.

''Ship's sound, the Hope is still in place and four hours ago we received a message from the Tuvenese war tug, the Harmony of Tildaan. She's five hours out and has an escort force of two heavy cruisers and a multi-role destroyer. Lead warship is the heavy cruiser, Ootlan Fesh and they're ordering the Hope to take up an orbital position off of Firmament's coreward arm once we're in-system.''

Trillian sat down heavily in his chair and brought his systems online, ''Ah? Not pleased, I take it.''

Owen shook his head, ''They're not happy about a foreign warship dropping out of an FTL corridor they are not equipped to deal with behind an allied warship. Especially since they went straight into a hostile posture the moment their systems cleared of static.''

''I can understand that. I'm still not pleased about it myself, even in the new light of things.'' He looked at Owen, his brow furrowed slightly, ''Do you keep getting the feeling you've forgotten something?''

Owen slowly turned his attention away from his screens, ''Yeah... Kinda. I woke up this morning thinking I had to report for duty aboard the Trident.''

''Trident hasn't had a crew rotation in five years, nearly.'' Trillian replied a little off-handedly.

''Yeah, I know. It's just... weird.'' The ferret mumbled softly, idly scratching behind an ear.

''So, what have I missed?''

Owen proceeded to give him a quick, detailed run-down of what he had discovered in the news about Sterwil. Trillian browsed through the news feeds himself, nodding as Owen spoke, his eyebrows raised, his ears forward. A look of relief and amusement warred across his face.

''The Synthenoid Empire's pulling back to Andromeda. Their Empress has ordered them all home...'' Hopefully, he thought, they don't bother paying me a quick visit before they leave...

''No doubt they want nothing to do with the fight this time round. Especially if it means fighting for the losers. I doubt their egos could handle being beaten by a bunch of snakes.'' Owen said. He flicked the messages addressed to Trillian across to him.

Trillian opened them and went silent, the smile fading from his lips. His eyes took on a more golden shine and his whiskers pressed forward in distaste, ears canted.

''Once the Hope's Blade has detached from the Ranger, I want everyone in the wardroom and the PsyNet in place.'' Trillian said softly so that no one could hear but Owen, ''Grand Admiral Steelfang and Grand General Vinetail are upending High Command and raising hell.''

Owen kept his expression perfectly placid as eyes started to swivel in their direction in curiosity.

''Aye, Captain. The moment the Hope falls in line, I'll tip Second Watch off their bunks.''

''Excellent work, Ex.'' The tiger replied softly. He glanced at his chrono. An hour had already passed and First Watch were starting to trickle onto the bridge, relieving Third of their duties for the day. Trillian watched them trudge in. They needed a good rest, a hot meal and several rounds of stiff drinks. ''Captain Wolfen's time is up. It's time to give them their orders.''

''I'll do it, Sir. I need to head to the medibay anyway now you're here.'' Trillian cocked his head in question, ''Long shifts and a lot of stress make for some cruel headaches. I'm hoping Jashen has something left in his cabinets.''

Trillian settled back into his chair and nodded for Owen to go ahead.